Kate in Waiting Becky Albertalli (best way to read books TXT) 📖

the one hand, yeah, it’s about a medieval knight secretly knocking up a lady-in-waiting. But I think it’s really about anticipation and certainty and that feeling you get when you imagine your best future. The precious secret future, the one you carry around in daydreams.

It’s a Rapunzel kind of feeling. A when-will-my-life-begin kind of feeling.

Matt’s so close to me now, by the piano, and I keep expecting my voice to go haywire or disappear altogether. But I push through, and I sound much more okay than expected. Not like I’m perfect or anything, but I get the lyrics mostly right. And Matt’s as dreamy of a Sir Harry as ever, even though he can’t quite nail the octave leap at the end of the second verse. But somehow this little vocal glitch makes him even cuter.

Mr. D is terrible at time management, so we only have time to run through “Yesterday I Loved You” once before he hands us over to Ms. Zhao. By now, we’ve already blocked bits and pieces of the scene with “In a Little While”—Ms. Zhao’s really good at squeezing little moments into the margins of full-cast rehearsals. But it’s the first time we’ve ever run through it from the beginning of the scene, and Zhao keeps stopping the action to adjust us. “Matt, step forward. Good. Kate, lean back into him and put your hands over his hands. Yup.”

Cheesy prom pose for the win. Matt keeps quietly apologizing for the dampness of his shirt, which is so sweet, it makes me giggle—at least it would make me giggle if my lungs were even kind of working. But no, apparently my entire brain and body are closed for business, except that little spot on my rib cage where Matt’s hands are pressed.

I mean. These intensive rehearsals are something. They really are.

“Okay, great,” Ms. Zhao says. “Devon’s taking all of this down, so you can sit down with him later to add the notes to your script. But I say let’s keep it moving and knock out ‘Yesterday I Loved You.’ Who’s ready for that kiss?”

Um, apparently Mr. D is. Because now he’s playing that “Kiss Me” song, the one with the line about milky twilight that Anderson swears is about semen. And wow. I sure do love associating that thought with Mr. D. I’m probably super bright red now, and even Matt looks flustered. He shoots me this tentative look, like, are you ready?

Um, I was born ready. I was conceived ready. For the kiss, though, not for Mr. D’s milky twilight. The kiss.

The Kiss.

Deep breath. I nod.

And . . . thunderclap. It catches me so off guard, I jump. “That’s a loud one,” says Mr. D.

But Zhao acts like she didn’t even hear it. “Let’s get started. Okay, Act Two, top of scene six. It’s the middle of the night. Harry, you’re there pacing. And Larken, we’ll start you”—she pauses to write something—“downstage left. Good. So Kate, you’re actually leaving the castle, running away to Normandy, but Harry hears you, and he turns around and says—Matt, go ahead and say your line here.”

Matt puffs his chest up. “Friend or foe?”

“Friend,” I say.

“Okay, great. And let’s have you both stop in your tracks. Right there, yup. Center stage. And you’ll stand there for a beat, looking at each other, and then Larken, you take a step toward him. You’re drawn to him. And you’ll say your line there, and then we have Harry’s line, and we move into the song.”

I glance up at Matt, and then back at Devon, who’s got his head down, writing, and I don’t even want to know what I look like right now. I feel like someone hollowed out my insides and replaced my bones with marshmallows. How am I supposed to survive blocking this song? Especially when this song is the only thing standing between me and the Kiss. The third kiss of my life. And since the first two were with Anderson, this is definitely my first kiss with potential. I’m standing right at the edge of my happy ending. I just know it.

Maybe this is the kiss Matt and I will tell our kids about in thirty years. We’ll line them up on the couch, How I Met Your Mother–style, and describe every single moment in detail.

Blocking the song out feels like a dream. Like I’m sleepwalking. Face each other. Now clasp your hands together. Now take a step closer and draw your hands up between your chests. Then cheat out, so you’re holding hands but facing the audience. And Matt, you step behind her again. Kate, you turn . . .

“Good,” Ms. Zhao says firmly, and everything blinks back into focus. “Okay, let’s block this kiss. Everyone feeling good?”

“Great,” Matt says, smiling. He looks straight into my eyes when he says it.

“Okay! So let’s start from where you are. Kate, you’re turned all the way into his embrace, and let’s put your arms around his shoulders. Perfect. And Matt, let’s have you put your hands on her face. Really swoony and romantic.”

“Okay.” Matt cups my cheeks. “You good?” he whispers.

I nod. “Good.”

“Hmm. Actually, Matt, why don’t you slide your hands a little farther back, just so we’re not losing her face. Good. Yes! Perfect. Kate, tilt your head up just a little bit—”

I honestly can’t believe this is happening. Like. Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. And I know it’s onstage, and I know it’s being choreographed by a teacher, but the feeling in my stomach, in that spot below my belly button? That’s real.

Matt’s lips are so close now. Inches away. I can feel his breath.

Ms. Zhao looks up from her notebook finally. “And . . . they kiss.”

“And we kiss,” Matt says softly. Suddenly his lips are on mine.

And okay. It’s not a makeout—more like a slightly extended peck. But it’s so achingly sweet, I could melt. I could seriously melt on the spot.

Matt Olsson just kissed me. He really did that. And now I’m standing here tingling from my head to my feet, and he