Falling

Chapter 4

Dean’s POV

The auditorium smells like dust, old wood, stress.

Mostly stress.

Luke is holding the wrong script. Alexa is distracted by the notifications that keep popping up on her phone. Reggie is pretending to be tap dancing. Carter is half asleep against a pillar with bags under his eyes big enough to qualify as carry-on luggage.

And Margaux?

She is standing in the centre of the chaos one bad breath away from snapping.

“Alexa, if you look at your goddamn phone one more time, it’s not a suggestion. It’s the last warning.”

Margaux clenches her teeth.

“It’s my mom.” Alexa replies in a guilty tone. She is clearly lying. It’s written all over her face.

“Bullshit!” Margaux snaps.

I clear my throat loud enough to grab Margaux’s attention. She shoots me an annoyed look.

I can’t help but find it a little funny.

“Something to say Dean?”

“You’re doing that thing again…” I say tilting my head while fiddling with my pen.

“What thing?” She asks in an agitated tone.

“The thing where you try to control eight people, who don’t care about being controlled.”

“Do you have something helpful to add Dean or are you just here to add an opinion?”

“Actually, I do have something to add,” I say.

I set my gaze on the cast and the slight bicker between myself and Margaux had caught their attention. I can’t tell if they are intimidated by me or if they just hang on every word I say because they like me. Either way, I have their undivided attention. I start by explaining to them that instead of acting out their lines like parrots, they should consider adding more emotion. After all they are telling a story not memorising words.

After my little speech we rehearse the same scene for the sixth time. This time around the scene feels more natural, deep, raw.

Margaux seems relieved that we made progress but she doesn’t play into the emotion too much. Her body language is more relaxed, I can’t tell if she’s impressed but I do note her tone is way less sharp than before.

“Captain of the football team huh?” She scoffs lightly.

“Football, theater same thing baby!” I joke, trying to keep the mood light.

Margaux dismisses the cast and they immediately boot for their bags. You hear papers rustling, backpack zips, chair clanking and chatter as they leave the auditorium.

I stay behind, of course. Margaux is wrestling with her scripts, I get a glimpse of her notes underlined, highlighted and perfectly organised, of course, it wouldn’t be her notes if they looked otherwise.

“How are you feeling babydoll?” I get an annoyed look that strikes my direction.

“Not babydoll, Margaux!”

She rolls her eyes.

“But I will admit I feel better.”

“I knew you would! Without me this play would collapse!” I say, sarcastically teasing her a little bit.

“Careful! If your head gets any bigger we won’t be able to fit in the room!” She jokes back. I can’t help but feel a slight bit of happiness that her mood had improved.

I scoff, “You’re really talented and a great leader under that sharp approach!”

“Thanks! I appreciate you saying that, I just think they don’t respect me enough, you know?”

Before I can reply, Noah’s footsteps echo in the hall as he makes his way towards us.

Guitar case over his shoulder. Same calm expression. Same effortless confidence like he doesn’t notice gravity applies to him.

His gaze is immediately fixed on Margaux.

“Margs, just a quick thought…” he says.

Margs? He gave her a nickname? What the f**k? Something about this guy makes me want to start a fight I can’t justify.

Her posture immediately changes when he enters the room. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Straightened shoulders, softer eyes, nervous fingers. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

She only does that when she’s nervous.

I don’t know why I know that.

I definitely don’t know why I care.

That’s a thing.

A thing I don’t like one bit.

Not because I am jealous, I just don’t like the prick.

“Yeah, please do share!” She replies in a voice your mom would use with her friends on the phone after she just scolded you.

“So I was thinking for the kissing scene to maybe add the slowed down version of the song we currently have?”

Her face lights up as he speaks, like actually lighting up!

“That would be so cool! I would love to hear it!” I bet you would Margaux!

“Cool! I’ll send you that version. We’re still on for tonight, right? The party?” Noah asks her.

“Yeah, absolutely, I’ll see you tonight!”

WE will see him tonight! I push back the words before they slip out of my mouth. I notice my mood is instantly sour. I am so annoyed, I can’t stand the thought of seeing them together. It makes me feel weirdly sick. I don’t like the way she switches up around him and I don’t like that I noticed.

Noah doesn’t try to impress people.

That’s the annoying part.

Guys like Luke practically perform for attention.

Noah just stands there and somehow gets it anyway.

Noah proceeds to leave, she watches him till the doors close behind him and immediately turns to me with an excited expression,

“We’re still on for tonight, right? The party?” She asks. Does she want me there? Why would she ask me? It’s almost as if she wants me to reassure her.

“Of course babydoll, you need a ride don’t you?” I reply in a teasing manner with a plastered poker face in attempt to hide my pure annoyance.

“Oh no, I wasn’t asking just because I want you to drive me, I can get there by myself..I’m really not using you for your car!” She says all concerned.

I scoff, “You can use me all you want!” I add a wink. She rolls her eyes and we proceed to gather our things and head to the car.

On our way to her dorm, the only thing she talks about is this party. She is clearly ecstatic but so nervous at the same time. She is worried about what to wear, what to say, how to act.

She keeps asking if the dress is okay.

Like she needs permission.

Like she doesn’t know she’s the prettiest girl in every room she walks into.

It’s honestly a little offensive.

I can’t fathom why she wants to change herself for this i***t. She’s perfect already. She doesn’t need to change a thing.

We get to her dorm and I assure her that I will pick her up at 6pm sharp. She agrees and hops out of the car. She basically has a skip in her walk. She’s excited.

Genuinely excited.

Which means if Noah screws this up, I’m probably going to end up committing a felony.

It’s 17:45 and I decide to head up to her dorm to go and let her know that I am here.

Anna opens the door, surprised to see me. From her expression I can tell she is clearly not expecting me.

“Hands-off Dean!” She shouts!

“One and only!”

“Come in!”

She invites me inside and I immediately step into their communal living room.

“You picking up Margaux?” Anna asks.

“Yeah, for the party.”

“She’s changed outfits three times and had a slight mental breakdown.” She chuckles.

No sight of Margaux as of yet but the books on the shelf, the vibrant paint colours and the collection of records catch my eye. It reminds me of my mother, she passed away a few years ago. She was all about art and music, she loved colour and she had an extensive collection of records. She used to play me a different record every night before bed. My mom would’ve loved this place.

The records.

The colour.

The fact that nothing matched but somehow everything worked anyway.

For a second, standing there, I can almost hear her voice telling me that every room should tell a story.

“I’m ready!” Margaux says as she walks out of her bedroom door. She is wearing a black cocktail dress which hugs her figure perfectly. A few fingers above the knees, showing off her tanned, defined legs. She is wearing heels, they’re not very high but they make her slightly taller. Her hair is loose and curled. She’s wearing makeup, not a lot, natural but it highlights her facial features perfectly.

Every smartass comment I had prepared disappears.

My brain genuinely short-circuits.

For one embarrassing second all I can do is stare.

“You look fantastic! Definitely hookup worthy!” I joke, but I am totally not joking. I am shoving down the thought that this is for another guy, an asshole mind you!

“Not too bad yourself!” She jokes back.

God help me.

She smiles when she says it.

That’s the problem.

Progress though.

She smooths down her dress for the third time.

Not because she’s worried about the party.

Because Noah is going to be there.

I force myself to smile.

Tonight should be fun.

I open the door for her and she flashes me a grateful smile before climbing into the passenger seat.

She doesn’t notice the way I’m looking at her.

Which is probably for the best.

So why does it feel like I’m driving her straight into someone else’s arms?