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“Oh my god,” she says, clutching at the spot where our heads collided. “Fucking ouch.”

“I’m sorry. I swear I’m not usually this awkward,” I say, but it’s not entirely true. I am always this awkward. Not that this has happened with other people or anything, but I am always awkward.

So much for building chemistry.

“Should we try again?” she asks.

“Actually,” I say, “I thought we could?—”

But the sound of a key in a lock interrupts me.

The door opens, revealing a tall, tanned guy with brown, well-styled hair and a girl about half a foot shorter than him with darker hair and a pale complexion. This must be Jessie and Mac.

“Jade, I’m so sorry. I’m not feeling good—we needed to come home. I gotta lie down. I’m so sorry,” the girl, presumably Jessie, says.

The guy holds up his hand as he passes by. “Hi,” he says with a friendly smile.

I hold up my hand too in kind of a lame wave.

“I’m so sorry, but I’ve got such a bad headache,” the dark-haired girl says as she walks past the couch. She gives me a friendly smile and a wave, but her brow is furrowed and her eyes look droopy, so I’m not the least bit offended when she doesn’t stop.

“I’m going to get you some water,” Mac says to Jessie. “Hi, Jade.”

“Mackenzie,” she says in greeting.

Jade hasn’t looked at me yet. She isn’t blushing or anything, but she does seem annoyed. She stands, gesturing for me tofollow her. I do, walking from the living room through the small dining area and down a short hallway to her bedroom.

“Feel better,” she yells in the direction of the other bedroom before closing her door behind us.

“Now, where were we?” she asks and backs me into the door. She presses herself against me, sliding her hands over my chest and up my neck. Instead of leaning in to kiss me again, she kisses my neck.

“So this is nice . . .” I say, but I’m using that word generously. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not doing anything for me.

“Mm-hmm,” Jade murmurs against my neck.

“And this is going to help us on stage?” I ask, and she pauses.

She looks up at me. “That’s the goal,” she says between placing kisses on my neck.

“Sorry. Is the goal for us to get to know each other better, or is it, like, to build a connection? I just want to make sure we’re meeting objectives here,” I say and put some space between us.

She gives a short sigh before she answers. “Building chemistry is a little bit of all those things. Frankly, in my experience, you either have chemistry or you don’t. Anastasia seems to think we can build it by spending time together. I’ve never really had this problem with anyone else, but I have slept with my scene partners before, and it sometimes made the onstage relationship a little easier,” she says.

“Which is why you thought we should . . .” I gesture between us.

“Yes, so . . . shall we?” Jade gestures to her bed, which is neat and made up with a white duvet and matching white pillows, a dark purple blanket draped over it. It’s been made up by someone who clearly makes their bed every day, not someone who threw it together because they knew they were having company.

It surprises me about her. For some reason, I expected more chaos.

“Um, well. So the thing is, I don’t— I’ve— I . . . don’t think this is working for me.”

Jade tilts her head to the side like a puppy hearing a funny sound. “Are you gay?” she asks. “Because you definitely should have said something before?—”

“I’m not gay,” I say. “I mean, like, the kissing was . . . You’re a good kisser, but I don’t feel any closer to you. Like, if we’re supposed to be getting to know each other and building a connection, just kissing you isn’t going to do it. Not for me, anyway.”

Jade leans against the bed, crossing her arms over her chest. She studies me, narrowing her eyes, pursing her lips. The silence is killing me. Like the urge to vomit, the need to explain myself comes out almost against my will.

“It’s not just you,” I say. “It’s, like . . . always like that. I know it’s weird, but I just can’t . . .” I gesture between us. “It’s like, that doesn’t happen for me unless there’s already some kind of emotional . . . Not that we— ’Cause it’s not like we’re?—”

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