West draped his muscular arm over my headrest. His body language was indifferent, dripping confidence; he took something out of his front pocket—a small planner—and dropped it in my lap.

“Circle the date.”

I ignored him, still glaring at the stage.

“When you’re letting me out of the doghouse,” he explained.

I pressed my lips together, resisting a faint smile, pouring metaphorical lava over the butterflies swirling in my stomach, taking flight upwards to my chest.

They were exactly the reason keeping my distance from him was a good idea.

The man had heartbreak written all over him.

“No can do. This planner doesn’t go beyond mid-next year,” I drawled, my eyes still trained on the stage. I didn’t need to look to know planners didn’t go beyond twelve months. Tess threw her head back during a scene, trying to steal Lauren’s limelight.

The scene was cut due to the fact Lauren stumbled all over her lines.

“Dang it! She threw me off focus.” Lauren stomped, choking the manuscript in her hand.

Tess parked her fists on her waist, puffing her cheeks.

“Nothing should throw you off when you’re in the zone. I’m a method actor, Lauren. Untouchable once I get into character. I’ve been telling Professor McGraw for weeks that I should be Blanche. I was born for the role.”

Secure in her stance she’d been robbed out of the role while Lauren tried to memorize her next few sentences, Tess’ feline eyes began to wander the rows. They stopped and widened, a glint of excitement zinging through them when she noticed us. She gave us a wave.

“West! Grace! Howdy!”

I waved back. West jerked his chin forward, a barely noticeable hello, and cut his gaze back to me.

“What about probation?” he asked. “It’s my first offense.”

I shook my head. “Third. You’ve been gettin’ on my nerves since day one.”

“Damn you, woman, you think working with you is a picnic?” He bristled.

“I’m sure it’s not, but I don’t butt into your business and draw unwelcome attention to you,” I pointed out.

“What am I charged with here exactly?” He rearranged his mammoth frame in his seat, his whole body angled toward mine now.

“You made a big stink out of what De La Salle said, and now I’m this pathetic emo kid who is at your mercy. You made me look helpless. Weak. A charity case.” I turned my head, meeting his eyes.

The twinge in my chest became a full-on pull.

“So, you’re mad at me for sticking up for you?” His eyebrows pinched together.

“I can fight my own wars.”

“Bullshit. You’ve never once shown up for battle.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You are my business.” He examined me, greatly enjoying the way my entire face turned pink under my makeup.

“I figured I am. I just wonder why that is. Did you need a pet project? I thought you had plenty on your plate already.”

“Because you’re my friend.” His eyes narrowed into two slits of grim resolution. That was it. I was his friend, and I didn’t have a say in this. “When someone disrespects my friends, they disrespect me. And nobody disrespects me. We clear about that?”

I turned my head to the stage, but only because I didn’t trust myself not to launch at him with a hug. I’d never had anyone burst into my life, kicking the door down on their way in, and stick around after realizing how truly broken I was.

West was the first person to insist on being my friend, whether I was interested or not. It was unchartered territory for me. My instincts told me to push him away before he did the dumping, but every single cell in my body screamed to let him in.

He threw his arms in the air, exasperated. “Fine. You want me to back off? You got it. Either way, the asshole won’t bother you anymore, so there’s that.”

“Woo-hoo. Thanks, Captain St. Claire.” I fist-pumped the air mockingly. Now I had West’s word he wasn’t going to butt into my life. But I still wasn’t placated. If anything, after the initial exhilaration of West seeking me out publicly at the auditorium, I was even angrier than before.

I knew exactly why—Melanie—but I couldn’t tell him that.

“You realize you’re being a bitch, right? You can’t not-know that.”

I knew I was being impossible, and it killed me that I couldn’t stop. My shiny red self-destruction button was switched on, and I wanted to hit the bastard again and again with my fist, until there was nothing left of our friendship, so I could go back to being alone and invisible and safe in my bubble of nothingness.

His phone danced in his hand. He killed the call before I could see the name on the screen.

Melanie asking for a second round? Did you tell her you’re a one-night kind of guy?

“What is this really about, Texas?” He raked his eyes over my face.

Cruz Finlay, the play’s director, looked up from beside the stage and waved the script in our direction. “Excuse me, do you mind? You’re distracting my actors.”

“Your actors are distractin’ us,” I muttered under my breath. West snorted next to me.

“Grace. West!” Tess gestured at us again. “What’s happening? Are y’all here for me?”

Tess was great, but she had the tendency to think the world revolved around her. Guess it grated on my nerves so much because I used to be exactly like her.

My stomach twisted into knots. If I chose to get flustered every time West received female attention, I’d go through a mental breakdown three times a day.

West stood up, jerking my arm, forcing me to my feet.

“Here for Texas. Now that I got her, I’ll get outta your hair.”

He saluted a shocked Tess and dragged me out the doors like a caveman. I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I refrained from smacking his hand away. Once we were out of the auditorium, he pinned me against the wall, boxing me with his arms on each side of my body. His phone beeped again. He ignored it, angling his face down so his lips were dangerously close to mine.

The earthy, male scent of him seeped into my system. My heart beat so wildly I almost threw up.

“Let’s try this again. Why are you mad at me, Texas? Don’t give me the Reign excuse. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“People are goin’ to talk, now that you came to the auditorium and called me Texas in front of everyone. Hope you’re happy.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “The amount of fucks I give equals the amount of shit I give. Which is zero, in case you’re wondering. Don’t change the subject.”

“You don’t care if people think you are hookin’ up below your league?” I taunted.

“I don’t care if people think I’m hooking up with livestock. And you’re not below my league. Now, I’m going to ask you this a third and last time—why are you mad? Answer carefully. There won’t be a fourth chance. I’ll flip you upside down and shake the answer out of you.”

“You wouldn’t.” I scoffed.

His eyebrows shot up, a mischievous sneer curling over his lips.

Crap, he totally would. I deflated. “I’m not mad at you. I just want you to stop actin’ like I’m a charity case. I’ve been doin’ fine on my own, and I don’t want the attention you bring to me.”