WILSON HS TRACK T-shirt. I could smell the cold air on him, the minty scent of his soap. He looked around again. I was in the only chair. There was nowhere else to sit except for my bed. After a beat, Pierce lowered himself onto the very edge of the mattress.
“So, what are you doing here?” It came out like an accusation. “Sorry. I was just—”
“No. It’s . . . it’s weird for me to be back here too.” He paused, looking like he’d caught himself saying something wrong. “But I’ve missed coming here. I don’t want you to think . . .”
“I don’t think,” I said, when he didn’t go on. “I don’t think anything.”
We were both quiet for a second.
Pierce lifted the folder he had pinned under one arm. “I brought you some stuff from Mr. Hall.” He held it out to me. “An updated script with all the blocking written in. So you can catch up a little over the weekend.”
The thought that I wasn’t going to be doing any catching up over the weekend flashed through me, followed by a rush of anger, and then another rush of fear. But I just took the folder, keeping my face tilted awkwardly to the side. “He asked
you
to bring it to me?”
“I volunteered.”
“Oh.”
I searched my brain for something else to say. Pierce’s nearness triggered a smear of memories, along with that hot prickling in my face and a buzzing in my stomach. It grew stronger each time I caught the scent of his skin.
Pierce didn’t speak either. I wondered if he was remembering too, or if he was just counting the seconds before he could escape without looking like a jerk. But he didn’t move.
We were still sitting there, watching each other from the corners of our eyes, when the nurse from
Romeo andJuliet
burst out of my bedroom closet. She bustled toward Pierce, her long robes flapping.
“A
man,
young lady!” She held both hands over him like he was the grand prize on a game show. “Such a man as all the world—why, he’s a man of
wax!
”
“Verona’s summer hath not such a flower,” another voice murmured, closer to my ear.
Shakespeare and his black tights were perched beside me on my dressing table.
“Nay, he’s a flower, in faith,” the nurse gushed. “A very flower!”
Pierce tilted his head. “Are you okay?”
I must have been staring into space like a hypnotized cat. I glanced to my right. Shakespeare smiled back at me. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Here.” Abruptly, Pierce was beside me, one sturdy arm sliding beneath mine, wrapping around my back. His other hand grasped my elbow. The folder fumbled in my fingers. He half boosted, half guided me across the floor and set me down on the bed, bracing me with his body. Against my side, he felt solid and warm and reassuringly real. “You don’t look okay. Should I get your mom?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Don’t. I just felt dizzy for a second.”
He didn’t let go of me. “Are you sure?”
“Totally sure.”
Across from me, the dressing table was Shakespeare-less once again. Juliet’s nurse had vanished too.
The mattress bounced softly as Pierce got to his feet. “I guess I should let you rest.”
“You don’t need to—” I caught myself, but it was already too late. “I mean—you don’t have to leave so fast. Mom’s making dinner. You could stay.”
Pierce shook his head in a way that actually looked disappointed. “I promised I’d be home for dinner. My parents are having people over.”
“Oh.”
“But ask me some other time. It would be good to catch up. With all of you, I mean.”
“Yeah.” I looked at his collar. “Some other time.”
He backed toward the door. “I’ll see you Monday, right?”
“Yes, you will. Thanks for the script.”
In the doorway, Pierce paused. “Hey. I’m really, really glad you’re all right.”
I still couldn’t quite meet his eyes. Or speak. I just nodded, shaping my lips into an almost-smile, staring at the button on his collar.
Pierce turned away. His steps