Don't Look Behind You (Don't Look Series Book 1) Emily Kazmierski (ereader that reads to you TXT) 📖

by side on the tailgate, looking through the woodlet of trees toward the road. Crickets sing an eerie song that definitely could be used in a horror movie. I push the dark thoughts away. “About the play.”

“About the play,” Esau parrots, looking me over with his eyes hidden in shadow. “How come you changed the whole lighting scheme from what we talked about? I thought we’d agreed on it. It was done.”

I exhale through my nose. “You agreed. I never did. And you didn’t even look at my ideas. I just wanted to show you we had options.”

“It’s my play,” he says with the barest hint of tension in his tone. “I’m the director.” Not you.

“And a good director will listen to his crew when they have good ideas.”

“You think I don’t listen to my crew? What about Fiona’s suggestion about cable placement?” Now he’s definitely glaring at me a little. This is the Esau I’m used to, the one I can handle. Not the almost kind of sexy one who drives a stick shift and looks like a black-haired Aragorn with his hair down.

“Fine, you listened to that, but that was a safety issue. When it comes to anything artsy, you’re like a brick wall,” I say, tossing a hand up toward the trees.

Esau snorts. “I knew you wouldn’t get it.”

“There’s nothing to get. You’ve got a stick up your butt about this whole thing, and you won’t let anyone else contribute.”

“It’s my only shot!” he growls, surprising me.

A large bird cries and flies up from one of the almond trees, making me duck and throw my arms over my head.

“It’s just an owl,” Esau says, tracing the bird’s progress across the stars. His clenched muscles relaxe.

“I know that,” I say, uncoiling my arms.

“You’re such a city girl,” Esau says, his tone warming.

“. . . Is that supposed to be an insult?”

He shakes his head. “You drive me absolutely insane, you know that?”

“It’s one of my more endearing qualities.” I sit up primly.

He laughs.

“You were saying something about the play being your one shot?”

Esau peeks at me out of the corner of his eye, his hands tightening around the edge of the tailgate. He’s quiet for so long I’m not sure he’s going to say anything, but then his mouth opens. “This play, The Mousetrap, it’s my only shot at film school.”

“Film school?” I shift toward him, and my knee touches his thigh. I don’t move away, telling myself that I’m simply trying to annoy him.

“My parents knew my goal, so they sent me up here to live with my aunt and uncle. There’s a lot more opportunity here than in the small town I’m from. My uncle is hoping I’ll follow him into farm management, but…” He trails off. “I’ve always loved film. That’s what I want to do: direct movies.”

“And the play helps you how?”

“It’s experience directing, isn’t it? It’ll help when I fill out college applications.”

My head bobs in what I hope looks like agreement, even though I’m not sure I understand.

“Look.” Taking out his phone, he opens his social and starts scrolling through it.

When I notice that he’s continued to use some of the tips I gave him, I smile. “You’re posting on regular days. And your newer photos are so much brighter.”

“Thanks. Some bossy girl gave me some ideas.”

“Not bossy. Entrepreneurial. She makes things happen.”

My favorite owl screeches nearby, and some tiny animal squeals in terror. Inwardly, I cringe.

“She does.” He runs a hand through his hair and I have to tear my eyes away. Guys with long hair are H.O.T. HOT. Who knew? Suddenly all of my mom’s romance novels with that long-haired blond guy on the cover make so much more sense.

“About the lighting.” I change the subject, hoping to distract my inward monologue about how not terrible Esau looks right now.

“We’re back to that already?” He turns toward me, folding one foot and bumping my knee in the process. “Sorry,” he says. He doesn’t shift away.

Fizzing warmth skims my skin, radiating from that spot. What am I even doing? This is Esau Grumpy Pants Chavez I’m low key ogling.

“The lighting scheme you’re suggesting; I don’t hate it.”

“Wow, what a compliment.”

“Shut up and let me finish.”

I make a mock frown, not in the least insulted. Esau’s bark is far worse than his bite, I’m discovering. I motion for him to keep going.

“What if we combined them? Started with the soft light I planned and slowly adding harsher, more neon light as the play progresses? If we do it right, it’ll highlight the tension unfolding between the characters. It’ll be another layer of stress on the audience.” He’s ramping up to lecture me on the power of good lighting, so I interrupt, trying not to focus on the way his ear gauges gleam in the moonlight.

“Absolutely. Let’s do it.”

Esau’s eyes widen, and he points between us. “Are you actually agreeing with me on something?”

“Let me check.” I cock my head to the side and pretend to think it over. “Yes, I do believe we agree on something. One thing, but it’s a start. Now, about the blocking in act two…” I trail off, grinning.

“You drive me insane.” Esau is grinning too, and what I would give to keep him looking at me like that.

“You said that already.”

“I did.”

Somehow Esau and I have leaned closer together, our faces mere inches apart. Our knees are pressed tightly together. Hands a mere finger width from brushing. My breath hitches when Esau’s attention dips to my mouth.

He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

I bite mine.

With a loud pop, a car rumbles up the road. Whatever spell the moonlight had woven between us like a silken spider web is broken. I peer into the dark and spot it: a dark sedan driving slowly nearer and without any headlights.

“That’s odd,” Esau mumbles.

My heart is pounding in my chest. It’s Aunt Karen. It’s gotta be. She’s found out that I’m not home and has somehow tracked me here.