Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set Gigi Blume (fantasy books to read .txt) 📖

run away and hide. Most guys gave girls chocolates or made a lame mixtape. This guy decided to channel his inner James Bond. I didn’t want to be the one to break it to him, but he was setting the bar a little too high for himself. What would his next grand gesture be? Eradicate world hunger? Save the rainforests?

The distinct footfall of boots sounded on the stairwell. It was Stella, and she was dressed and ready in her act-two costume—a proper pirate wench, complete with a belt three inches thick.

“Do either of you two know how Catherine de Bourgh got backstage? I had to have her thrown out.”

Will and I exchanged a wide-eyed glance. That skinny old hag lurked backstage after I dissed her to tell him off. I just knew it.

“Well, anyway,” Stella said, passing us to descend the remaining stairs, “carry on. But don’t dawdle too long.”

She wagged her brows and grinned a little too knowingly before disappearing into the shadows.

“Will,” I said awkwardly. “I’m sorry I pulled your hair.”

Fluency of speech had never been my forte, especially when it came to apologies. I don’t think I was wired for it. But there I was, blunt as ever, blurting what was at the forefront of my thoughts. He seemed to like that about me, though, as a smile spread across his face, reaching his beautiful eyes.

“I deserved it,” he replied. “I was a Jack-as-the-beanstalk.”

I burst in a peel of laughter. “I see what you did there.”

“Well, you’re beginning to rub off on me,” he said with a wink.

“I certainly hope so,” I exclaimed. “I mean…”

I was a blubbering idiot. Why couldn’t I just shut up? Blushing furiously, I noticed Will’s eyes flash over my frame with fascination—and a sprinkling of amusement.

I was saved—sort of—by the A.S.M. calling places, and Will shot me a smile as I rushed to the crossover.

Real smooth, Beth.

I joined my stage sisters in the wings and reflected wistfully on our short conversation.

‘Don’t you know?’ he’d said.

Actually, I preferred people to spell it out for me. I was always rather blunt in my communication and expected the same from others. Will, however, was too cryptic. The note, the little comments he made at the gala, the sideways glances.

I could almost feel his eyes on me during the first two numbers of act two. Not that I was any less obvious. I was rubbernecking big time during his Paradox scene with Bing and Stella. I was on the stage-left wing, which was better for watching the performance unobstructed by set pieces, but unfortunate because Will’s exit was on stage right. When he disappeared behind the legs, I thought he’d gone to the back of the house to prepare for his next entrance. Cole was all about audience interaction and placed actors in the aisles whenever he could. He called it the Lion King entrance. The pirates played up With Cat-like Tread hilariously during rehearsals, and I could only imagine what they’d do once an audience occupied the seats.

As Jane and Bing began their scene, the same one I’d performed with Will at the gala, I drifted as close to the stage as possible without being seen. Using the heavy, black curtains as a shield, I silently listened, remembering the beautiful night I spent in a fairytale. The night I danced one last time with a man I’d thought was a beast, but was really a prince, only to run away to aid a friend trapped by Gaston. Admittedly, I watched too many Disney movies.

I sighed at Jane’s execution of the soft part of the song. She had a quality of voice which floated lightly above reality and yet there was so much feeling beneath the surface. As my lips silently sang along, I perceived a white billowy shirt emerge from the shadows. Will stood on the opposite side of the stage from me, mirroring my position behind one of the legs, and watching the movement of my mouth. I observed a deep breath fill his chest (which was partially exposed, by the way), and my lips curled in response, still singing along. And then we locked eyes with knowledge of each other's thoughts. He was remembering the gala, too—the whole of his features betraying his feelings.

When Bing took over on the second verse, Will’s lips moved with the lyrics…

He loves thee, he is here…

…and his gaze never fell from mine. He wasn’t being cryptic anymore. This was as straightforward as it got. I understood now what he meant in his note.

Something else you left behind.

That something else was him.

He was something else.

Oh, yes, I thought to myself. He certainly was.

I was hyper-aware of every quickening sensation—the tingling in my fingers, the lightheaded dizziness, the relentless hammering of my heart. I parted my lips, focusing on him, beaming the sentiment right back at him and sang along.

Fa la la la la la.

The final notes sung in duet hung in harmony between us, suspended for a long moment once the applause died down. It was the part where the characters kissed, and I could see the memory play on his own lips as he curled his mouth into a smile meant only for me.

Kitty, meanwhile, was back in business, and she was doing the happy dance.

I had to go to him. Perhaps if I used the crossover quickly enough, I could reach him before he had to go. He nodded as if to say, ‘Yes, let’s meet in the middle and totally make out backstage for five seconds.’ But an arm reached to him from behind, prompting him to move into places so he wouldn’t miss his cue. ‘Later,’ his eyes communicated. And he was gone.

“Beth.” A breath of a voice whispered behind me. “Come here.”

Holly motioned furiously for me to join her and the rest of the Stanley Sisters. They were all huddled behind the metal stairs leading to the catwalks. It was a vision of long, white night dresses and mop caps against the darkness.