That girl from Dr. Feni’s office, the pretty perky blonde, sidled up to dark-haired cutie and laid a possessive hand on his shoulder. No surprise there. He might have been flirting with her during class, but in the end, guys like him always went for the perky blonde over the Amazonian redhead. It was nothing to her.

  Josie stopped in the ladies’ room at the end of the hall. She needed to pee and text Kyle not to bother picking her up since she wanted to hit the bookstore and the library before going home. After finishing her business, she set her bag on the counter and washed her hands.

  Josie opened her bag and reached inside for her phone. But it wasn’t in the pocket where she always kept it. She rummaged around in the main compartment but came up empty.

  She huffed out an annoyed breath and upended her bag on the counter. Lip gloss, mascara, a yellow highlighter, three pens, a comb, a rubber band, a pack of tissues, her wallet, two dollar bills and thirteen cents—but no phone.

  Where the hell was it?

  Josie squashed the panic that wanted to rise up and grab hold. She just had it five freaking minutes ago. Therefore she must have dropped it on her rush to escape from her classroom suitor. So she would just go back and find it. No big deal.

  And what if he was still there?

  Well, if he was, she would see him again. After all, they were in class together, so she would see him again eventually.

  For the briefest moment, she allowed herself to imagine accepting his invitation for coffee. They would sit across from each other at one of those little tables out front of the Book and Bean. He would flirt, and maybe she would even flirt a little in return. Maybe they would share one of those big chocolate chip cookies.

  But no, that was never going to happen. Not for her, not with him.

  But he did have a great smile and really pretty eyes.

  A sigh slipped out before she could prevent it.

  Okay, just quit it right now. She needed to quit mooning over some guy she could never have.

  And she was mooning. She could admit it to the girl in the mirror, that girl she’d become over years of tears and effort. A girl that cutie wouldn’t want, not if he really knew her.

  Tossing everything back in her bag, Josie pushed open the restroom door, and who should she find standing in the hall but the very guy she’d just been mooning over.

  “Hey,” he greeted her with a wide smile. No question about it, he had to have had braces in high school. No one’s teeth were naturally that perfect.

  Josie pushed the odd thought aside, packing it away with the thrill of finding him waiting for her, a thrill she refused to countenance.

  “Hey.” She tried to stroll casually by him, but he reached out a hand and stopped her. In that hand he held something that looked unsettlingly familiar.

  “You dropped your phone.” When she didn’t immediately reach for it, he held it out farther into her personal space. “This is your phone, right?”

  She nodded and took her phone. Their fingers brushed, and Josie felt a tingle all the way down to her coral-tipped toenails.

  Holy crap, but she was doomed.

  “Thanks, yeah, that’s my phone.” She kept her tone casual as she tried to edge past him, but he fell into step beside her.

  “You’re welcome. I know I’d be screwed without mine. In fact I lost mine last year, and I still haven’t got back all the numbers I had in there.”

  Probably numbers for about a thousand girls, Josie thought before she could stop herself. Not that she cared.

  “Well, thanks for picking it up for me.” She tucked the phone in her bag and quickened her pace.

  And what a surprise. He picked up his pace to keep up with her.

  Josie pushed open the door and stepped outside. The brilliant morning sun filtered down through trees still mostly bare but just beginning to show the first hints of green. It made her smile, this whisper of spring, even if the air was still chilly.

  “My name’s Mark.” Dark-Haired Cutie was hot on her heels.

  “That’s nice.” She felt like she was racewalking.

  “Brrrrrrrt! Wrong answer.”

  Josie stopped and stared. “What?”

  “Wrong answer. When I say my name’s Mark, you’re supposed to say, ‘Hi Mark. My name’s Herkimer. It’s nice to meet you.’”

  “Herkimer?” She laughed. She couldn’t help it.

  “It’s just an example.” He grinned. “So what is your name if it’s not Herkimer?”

  Oh, what the hell?

  “I’m Josie.” She resumed walking. So did he.

  “Where’s your next class?”

  “I’m done for the day,” Josie said, not elaborating. She waved a mental good-bye to her library-and-bookstore plans. Oh well, she would just go home, but she didn’t want him following her there.

  “Yeah? Great. How about that cup of coffee? I’m buying. You look like a double espresso kind of girl. Am I right?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Maybe because I have a boyfriend.”

  Mark shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

  “How do you know? I could have a boyfriend.”

  “Sure you could, but you don’t. If you did, that would have been the first thing you said.”

  “Okay, you win. I don’t have a boyfriend. But I do have a job for which I’m going to be late if I keep standing here arguing with you.”

  It was a small lie, but so what? She didn’t know this Mark from Adam.

  “It’s not an argument. It’s a negotiation.”

  “A negotiation?”

  “Yeah, we’re negotiating when you’re going to let me buy you a double espresso. Heck, I’ll even throw in one of those giant chocolate chip cookies. You like chocolate chip cookies, don’t you?”

  “Pfft, who doesn’t?”

  “Great. Then it’s a date. Give me a call when you’re done work and I’ll meet you at the Book and Bean.” With that he turned and started to walk away like everything was settled.

  She would let him go. It was the wiser choice by far. But instead she called after him. “I don’t have your number.”

  “Yes, you do. It’s in your phone.” He turned and, walking backward, sent her another of those heart-stopping smiles. “So I’ll talk to you later. Have fun at work.”

  Josie watched him walk away.

  Mmm, nice butt.

  He wanted to buy her a cookie. It was quite an offer coming from a guy who was confident or arrogant enough to just stick his contact info in her phone. Too bad she would never take him up on it.

  * * * *

  “I can’t believe he put his contact info in your phone just like that.” Josie’s best friend, Kyle, pirouetted around their tiny living room before collapsing onto the sagging pullout couch in an amazingly accurate imitation of a swooning Southern belle. “That is soooooo…”

  “Presumptuous?” Josie left the living room and walked down the hall to her bedroom. The door to her closet stood ajar. She dragged it open and scowled at the jumble of brightly colored clothes, shoes, and accessories. What did people wear to auditions anyway?

  “I was thinking smooth,” Kyle called from his place on the couch.

  “Yeah, smooth as a baby’s butt,” Josie muttered. “C’mere and help me find something to wear to this audition.”

  She pulled out a black sweaterdress, briefly held it up, then tossed it aside and ducked back inside the closet.

  “Don’t just throw that on the floor.” Kyle joined her at the closet. He picked up the dress, put it on a hanger, and hung it up.

  Josie snagged a khaki shirt from the top shelf, shook it out, and shoved her arms through the sleeves. She turned, already buttoning it, and stepped out of the closet.

  “You aren’t wearing that.”

  “Why, what’s wrong with it?” Josie glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the inside of the closet door.

  “Nothing if you don’t mind looking like a washerwoman.”

  “When have you ever seen a washerwoman?” But she was already pulling off the shirt. She dropped it on the floor of the closet.

  “Wear the dress. You look sexy in that.”

  “I don’t want to look sexy. It’s an audition, not the Oscars.”

  “It’s the Tonys for the theater, hon, not the Oscars.”

  “I know that.” Josie dove back into the closet.

  “Get out of there before you make an even bigger mess.” Kyle grabbed her by the waistband of her denim miniskirt and hauled her back. “Go get us something to drink while I figure out what to do with you.”

  “Don’t pick anything too dressy. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.” Josie went to the kitchen, grabbed two sodas from their fridge, and brought them back to where Kyle was bent over with his butt sticking out, rummaging through the cedar chest where she kept her sweaters. His shirt had ridden up. She pressed the frosty can against the bare skin of his back.

  “Aaaaah! You trying to give me a heart attack?” In a single motion, he straightened, spun, and plucked the can from her hand. The move was all grace and spoke to the great dancer he would one day be. He cracked the pop-top and drank deeply.

  Josie shrugged, popped the top on her soda, and took a slow sip. “If you had a heart attack and died, who would dress me?”

  “No one. You would walk around the rest of your college career looking like a ragamuffin.”

  “Washerwoman, ragamuffin, where do you get this stuff?”

  “Literature, my dear. You should try reading something other than the Cliff’s notes for a change.”

  “Hey, I read.”

  “Of course you do.” Kyle crushed his empty soda can and tossed it toward the trashcan before turning back to the cedar chest. He reached in and, seemingly at random, pulled out an emerald-green sweater.

  Josie gulped the rest of her soda and set down the can. “Oh no, that’s too—”

  “Too what? It’s perfect. C’mere.”

  He held the sweater up against her and nodded. “It’s just right with your skin and hair. You’ll look like a movie star. Now, put it on and quit bitching.”

  “Fine.”

  Josie took the sweater, pulled it over her head and down, tucking it in the waistband of her skirt.

  “And wear the biker boots. You’ll look so sexy butch.”

  “I don’t want to look sexy butch.” But she shoved her feet into the boots anyway.

  “Bitch and moan, bitch and moan. You don’t want to look too dressy. You don’t want to look too sexy. You don’t want to look too femme. You don’t want to look too butch. How the hell do you want to look, Joes?”

  “I want to look like me.”

  Saying nothing, Kyle turned her to face the mirror. The sweater hugged her slim torso; the deep v-neck made it look like she actually had cleavage. He was right about the color too. The bright jewel tone glowed warm against her pale skin and fiery hair. The denim skirt skimmed slender hips, and the boots added that little touch of bad-girl chic. Josie smiled at her reflection.

  “You look beautiful,” Kyle said.

  “Thanks to you.” She turned and hugged him. “Of course, in these boots, I’m screwed if I have to dance as part of the audition.”

  Josie’s phone rang.

  “OhmyGod!” She jumped like someone had goosed her and seized her phone, suddenly positive it was Mark. But a glance at the display told her it wasn’t, and the fist clutching her heart loosened. She raised the phone to her ear.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, sweetie. Where are you?”

  “I’m at home.”

  “Hi, Mama Geri,” Kyle called in the background.

  Knowing the drill, Josie held the phone away from her ear and tapped the Speaker icon.

  “Hi, Kyle honey. How are you?

  “I’m good,” Kyle said. “Just helping our girl get ready for an audition.”

  Josie hissed and made a gun with her free hand, which she pointed at Kyle’s head and pulled the trigger.

  Bang, she mouthed.

  “Oh, really?” Her mother’s trepidation came through loud and clear.

  “It’s just a college production, Mom. And I probably won’t even get a part. It’s good practice, though.”

  “Pfft. Just this, just that. She’s going to kick butt. You should see her, Mama Ger. She looks like a movie star.”

  “I’m sure she does if you picked out her clothes,” Josie’s mother said.

  Kyle made a V for victory. “She met a guy today too. He flirted with her in ethnography class.”

  “Oh?”

  If possible, her mother sounded even less thrilled by this news than she’d been by Kyle’s audition bombshell.

  Shut. Up. Josie silently mouthed the words.

  “He’s a god, Mama Ger. An absolute hottie. You should see him.”

  “Well, maybe I will when I come up for parents’ weekend.”

  “Mom, I told you, you don’t have to come up for that. It isn’t even a real parents’ weekend. It’s just the spring festival.”

  “Oh, but I want to. I want to see your apartment. And I want to see you, both of you. I miss you.”

  Josie and Kyle exchanged a look. There was obvious worry in her mother’s voice. Convincing her not to visit was going to be no easy task.

  You talk too much, Josie said, still mouthing the words with no sound.

  Kyle raised a hand to his ear and made his what? face.

  “Mom, nobody’s parents are coming up for that.”

  “Well, then, I’ll just come and see you.”

  “It’s a really tiny apartment.”

  “I can sleep on the couch. Didn’t you tell me you had a pullout couch?”

  Kyle shook his head so hard a lock of hair flopped over his eyes. Not me, the gesture said.

  “Mom, I really have to get going, or I’ll be late,” Josie said.

  Once I-love-yous and phone kisses were exchanged all around, Josie tapped the End button and slipped the phone into her pocket.

  They glared at each other.

  “You talk too damn much, Kyle Edward DiStefano.”

  “What? She worries about you. I just wanted her to know you were doing good.”

  “I didn’t want her to know about the show. You know how she is about the theater stuff.”

  “She doesn’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”

  “She doesn’t want me to call attention to myself. And whatever possessed you to tell her about Mark? You want her to have a stroke?”

  “I think it’s great you met somebody, and your mom will too once she gets used to the idea.”

  Her mother would never get used to that idea, but Josie didn’t say so.

  “It won’t go anywhere anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.”

  “You said he flirted with you all during class.”

  “He flirted with some girl he thought was hot. Listen, Kyle, you and I both know that straight boys don’t go for transgirls, especially ones who still have their dangly bits.”

  “Look, if you like him and he likes you, then it’ll all be good. You’ll work it out.”

  “Until he finds out I’m a chick with a dick, and he runs screaming into the night.”

  “Mark might be different, Joes.”

  Yeah, right. Not that dating Mark, or any guy, made her the woman she was; she had always been Josie, at least in her own head and heart. But she suspected being desired would somehow validate her femaleness in a way she didn’t think Kyle, or any man, could truly comprehend.

  “I don’t believe that,” she whispered. To her horror, her eyes filled, and a lump of emotion clogged her throat. She shook her head as if to deny her own beliefs.

  “I know you don’t, and it hurts me more than anything. C’mon now, don’t cry.”

  “I’m not crying.” Josie turned away, wiping furiously at her eyes and smearing her makeup all to hell. She wouldn’t spare a tear for something she didn’t have and would probably never have. Who cared anyway? She had a good life, the life she’d always wanted, and she was going to her first audition. She was not going to show up with a blotchy face and puffy eyes.

  Pulling a tissue from the box on the dresser, Josie wiped her eyes then blew her nose.

  “Go fix your makeup; then I’ll drive you over to campus for your audition.”

  Chapter Two

  Though it was the first time he’d heard her sing, Mark knew the voice before he ever saw the singer. Low and rough and a little bluesy, her voice flowed around and through him like warm honey and had his juices running high.

  Mark lingered in the lobby of the theater, a miniscule anteroom that resembled a lobby only by the greatest stretch of imagination. The interior doors stood open, and he had no trouble listening while remaining out of sight.

  “…The skies above are blue. My heart was wrapped up in clover, the night I looked at you.”

  God, he could listen to her all night.

  Mark edged closer to the open door and peered cautiously around the jamb. He had no business being there, but the need to see her on stage was irresistible.

  Alone on the stage, Josie stood, eyes closed, head thrown back, voice lifted and filling the theater.

  “…And here we are in heaven, for you are mine at last.”

  As the song ended and the last piano notes faded, Josie opened her eyes and seemed to look directly at him, though from the stage there was no way she could see him.

  Mark felt his heart give a little stutter before settling back into its normal beat. Butterflies spun and fluttered in his belly, which was totally girly and ridiculous. Still, he took a careful step back into the shadows.

  The words of the director were nothing more than a buzzing in his ears, as was Josie’s reply. Mark scrubbed a hand over his face as if just waking from a vivid dream. He felt hot all over and tugged at the zipper on his sweatshirt. It wasn’t hot in the theater; if anything, it was chilly. He must be getting sick.

 

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