Juliet Immortal

audience will want to see her in this scene.”
    “Thanks, Ariel. Thank you, Mr. Stark! You two are the best.” Gemma gives me a giddy thumbs-up.
    “Right.” Mr. Stark shoves at his glasses and heads back to his seat. “Just be good this weekend, people, or I’ll have to sponsor the yearbook instead of drama club next year. And I hate that layout program.”
    “All right, let’s pick it up from just before Maria’s entrance.” Hannah wrinkles her nose at Gemma, who isn’t hiding how pleased she is to have gotten the better of the other girl. “Shannon, back up the music.”
    I ease into the wings, ready to get back to work, but stop when I see someone crouched by the flats, washing a set of brushes in my dirty water. Even in the darkness, I know who it is.
    Ben
. Something in my gut twists and for a moment I’m dizzy, weightless, as if the floor has been ripped from beneath me, but I don’t know which way to fall.
    I shake my head. This has to stop. I can’t go to pieces every time I see his face. I have to pull it together, be a good influence, make sure he commits to the love of his life and lives happily ever after.
    “Hey, what’s up?” I ask, managing a semi-normal tone.
    “Hey.” He stands up, fan brush in hand. “I came to help. If that’s cool?”
    I nod, try to smile. “Sure. That’s great.” It is. This is the perfect chance to make sure he knows I’m on Team Ben and Gemma, and maybe find some way to help make things better between them.
    “I couldn’t work art into my schedule, but the teacher said Ariel could probably use some help finishing the sets for the play. I figured that was you, so … yeah.…” He smiles. “You paint all these by yourself?”
    “Yeah.”
    “You’re crazy good.”
    I blush, even though most of the work isn’t mine. “Thanks. You like to paint?”
    “I live to paint,” he says. “But I don’t want to mess anything up. If you don’t—”
    “No, I can definitely use some help,” I say. “And Gemma will love that you’re here. She’s onstage right now, but—”
    “Yeah. I know. I heard.” He turns, pulls another brush from the water and dries it on my towel. “That was cool of you to cover for her like that. I’d wet myself if I had to get up in front of a bunch of people.”
    I shrug and crouch down beside him to grab my palette, watching him mix cadmium white and a hint of yellow on his. “It’s only for one night.”
    “It’s still cool.” He lifts his brush but hesitates before touching it to the flat. “Do you mind if I do some highlights on this side?”
    “No. I mean, yeah, that’s fine.” I eye the area in question. His instincts are dead on. The bricks need something to counter the dark shadows I added. My respect for his skill grows as he works, adding texture and depth with deft touches of his brush.
    “So I have a favor to ask,” he says, visibly relaxing as he paints. I remember feeling like that, like the brush in your hand is a magic wand that banishes every care, leaches the worries from the day. “Come to dinner at my house tonight. My brother wants to meet you.”
    “Me?”
    “Yeah. He was pissed when I came in late last night and he saw the broken window. He doesn’t believe I was rescuing a damsel in distress,” he says. “So I think you should come to dinner, show him your damselishness.”
    “My damselishness?”
    He grins his crooked grin. “You’ll like my family, and even if you hate them you’ll love dinner. My sister-in-law is making ribs.” He pauses, catching my eye. “You eat meat, right?”
    “Yeah.” Just the thought of ribs makes my mouth water. I missed lunch, and I’ve been so
hungry
since entering Ariel’s body.
    “So you have to come. Her ribs are crack for meat eaters.”
    I shoot him a look. “Sounds dangerous.”
    “Nah, I’ll help you get your fix if you get addicted. She makes them all the time. My brother loves them, and she says food is the secret to a happy marriage.”
    “Food is the secret to a happy life.” My stomach growls in agreement, making Ben laugh.
    “See, you should come.”
    Ariel’s mom is working late, so it isn’t as if anyone’s waiting for me at home, and spending more time with Ben and Gemma is definitely a good idea. “Okay,” I say. “As long as Gemma doesn’t mind.”
    Ben’s next stroke hits too hard, leaving a clump of paint.He reaches for his palette knife to scrape it off. “Um … Gemma’s not … I didn’t ask