Prince Charmings (BOOK ONE)

21

Friday night had my nerves completely fried before I had even walked onto the stage.

Sat in the wings I passed the time by reciting my lines and hoping that things went smoothly. Across from me stood Spencer, on his feet and pacing like a madman. The highlighter Bella forcefully applied to the cheeks of all the actors glowed in the low lighting, a sharp line down his face pulled tight due to the nervous frown. He was shitting himself, which meant I had to look calm or else both of us would tank the entire play. Realizing I had to step in, I grabbed ahold of Spencer's wrist when he circled past me.

"Wanna dip outside for a smoke? Calm the nerves down a little?" I whispered, nodding toward the back exit.

"What if we get locked out? Or miss our cue?" he asked, nervously pulling on my hold of him.

"I doubt we'll get locked out," I waved off the idea, getting to my feet and tugging him towards the doors. "And with how slowly Astrid is saying her lines, we could be gone three hours and she still wouldn't have gotten to the forest yet."

"Woods." Spencer corrected, a nervous grin on his face before he nodded. "Okay. You're right. Some fresh air will do me good."

"I doubt smoking qualifies as fresh air, but sure." I shrugged, edging the door open enough for the pair of us to slip out.

In the light of the alley, I took a moment to enjoy how ridiculous Spencer was dressed. Given the concealer had not come out of his old shirt, Bella had upgraded it to one significantly more camp. The puff sleeves dwarfed Spencer's natural muscle, and the billowing lapels looked more Shakespearean than Brother Grimm.

I barely held back a snort when I noticed a smudge of mascara under his right eye.

"What?" Spencer asked, kicking over a nondescript paper bag and revealing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Hid them here in the morning. No hiding shit in these tights."

"I can see that," I smirked. The fabric was pulled taut against his thighs in a way I couldn't help but appreciate before turning red when Spencer shot me an annoyed look.

"At least I'm not wearing lipstick," he said, lips closed around the end of the cigarette he was failing to light.

"Hey, some of us are severely dehydrated," I frowned, crossing my arms against the surprising chill of the evening.

"Rouge suits you," Spencer smirked and I kicked his calf.

"Don't make me smudge your mascara even more before we even hit the stage," I warned and Spencer groaned.

"I fucked it up already?"

"Just a little bit," I said, pinching my fingers together in an estimate of how badly he messed up Bella's hard work.

"You got your phone on you so I can wipe it off?" he asked, giving up on lighting the cigarette long enough to reach up to wipe his face.

"Whoa, wait!" I cut in, grabbing his hand and redirecting it to his side. "Look up and I'll wipe it off."

"I don't know if I should trust you," he murmured, but squinted up as I ran a finger under his eye. The skin there was alarmingly smooth, enough so that I spent a little more time than I needed to rubbing it.

"Is it gone?" he asked tightly, trying not to move his face too much.

Snapping out of it I nodded, taking a step back.

"Yeah," I said, voice a little breathless and I cleared my throat. "Yeah, you're good."

"If you can get this thing started, you'd be a lifesaver." Spencer redirected, tossing me his lighter. I fumbled to catch it, flicking the wheel a few times before the spark caught.