XYRA'S POV
It was the final day of the play and we were backstage. The air felt like it was curdling, and it was suffocating with the faint scent of stale roses from my Juliet wig. Astor fidgeted, and I saw a nervous tick pulling at the corner of his eye. I stood by the window, my back to him, the image of his lips on hers flashing in my mind like a bad replay.
"We need to talk," he mumbled, his voice cracking like an eggshell.
I didn't budge. Silence was my shield, my way of saying "Go away, I can't even stand the sound of your voice right now."
He sighed, frustration building up, beneath his carefully practiced Romeo charm. "Xyra," he started again, a tremor in his voice that sent a shiver down my spine. "Look, I get it. You're mad. About the kiss, about Ethan, about…" He seemed to s
