Chapter Ten
Ida
Can Faye hear the pounding of my heart? It slams against my ribcage with such fury, I’m afraid its foolish antics might be visible to the naked eye. But Faye just stands there, waiting for me to deliver my lines—the ones leading up to our kiss. At least, this time, she’s expecting it.
We recite our lines and then I lean in. Am I acting? And if I’m not, is that some sort of violation? A brazen breach of boundaries? I don’t much care as her gentle, flowery scent overtakes my nostrils and her lips part a fraction for me. We’re not supposed to touch each other while we kiss, only our lips briefly press together, after which our characters break apart, one much more mortified than the other.
Acting or not, Faye’s lips are impossibly soft against mine, and being so close to h
