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Realization filled his blue eyes. “Tatiana.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that I’m talking about Tatiana,” I said, though my wink told him the truth.
He smiled ruefully. “A good actor would be able to work through a bad co-star.”
“But…”
He considered me for a minute, like he wasn’t sure how much he could say. Sizing me up as someone he could potentially open up to. It took another drink before he finished the sentence. “But, Tatiana doesn’t make it easy. Half the time I feel like she’s reading her lines like she’s on a soap opera. It’s totally different than the type of projection required for the stage.”
I grinned from ear to ear. Hearing him vent to me was like seeing a little piece of who Braden really was, and it validated everything I already believed.
“It’s so good to hear someone else admit it!” I said. “These past few weeks have felt like one big practical joke, where nobody wants to admit that the lead is awful.”
“Not a practical joke. Just off-broadway hell.” Braden spread one of his hands. “But at least we’re all in hell together.”
“That’s not really comforting to a girl trying to get useful experience on her resume,” I grumbled. “Why doesn’t Director Atkins see how bad she is?”
“Oh, he probably sees it. He’s just not in a position to do anything about it.”
I waited for him to make a joke, but he was serious. “The stage director has the final decision on all casting decisions,” I said.
“That,” Braden replied, “is not entirely true.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s complicated.”
“What’s complicated about it? Tatiana is a bad actress, bad dancer, bad singer. See? Simple.”
He shrugged, unable to give a satisfying answer. “I was being serious about what I said earlier. You’re a much better actress than her. I felt real chemistry between us during our scene.”
I took a sip of beer to try to give myself a second to think. He was confirming what I’d already thought, and that filled me with more happiness than getting to do the scene at all.
Feeling confident, I raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh, I know what you felt during our scene.”
It took him three heartbeats to realize what I meant.
“Oh,” he said, his handsome face turning three shades of crimson. “I was, uh…”
I reached across the booth to touch his hand. “I’m just teasing!”
“Guys can’t help it,” he said. Was this beautiful guy actually bashful? “We get excited for, like, no reason. Even if our jeans rub a certain way. It doesn’t matter if a woman is hot or ugly.”
“Which am I?” I asked casually.
He grinned. “You’re not the ugly kind, Nadia.”
It was my turn to blush. I took another drink of my beer and decided that this maybe-date was going pretty well.
Braden ruined the moment by glancing at his watch. It was a reminder that he was just killing time with me until his Tinder date arrived.
Sure, his date was me. But still.
“So who are you waiting for?” I asked. “Your girlfriend?”
“Nah, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Nice sidestep. “So it’s not a date?”
