Not all of her memories in the theater were happy ones.

Her freshman year of high school was perhaps the worst of it.

Cora sat at the dinner table with her parents, picking at the baked potato on her plate. She was one of those uncool teenagers who generally still enjoyed family meals—her mom's cooking was more than enough to make up for any unwanted conversations that ensued.

Silas and Stella Kline had always been good parents, albeit overbearing at times, but whose parents weren't? He was a director of data strategy, she was an HR specialist, and Cora very rarely wanted for anything that they couldn't afford. The house was clean and spacious, they had a fenced-in backyard, and her parents liked and trusted Simon enough to let him come over virtually whenever Cora wanted him to. They weren't the richest people in Rothbury, but they certainly weren't the poorest, and nobody in the town was truly poor to begin with. No, this town's definition of lower-class was simply the people who sent their kids to public school or couldn't afford annual memberships at the country club.

"How were rehearsals?" Mom asked as Cora nudged a chunk of potato around her plate with her fork.

"Fine."

She wasn't looking up, but she could feel her mother's gaze boring into her. "Are you okay, Cora?"

"I'm fine," she echoed herself. "Just tired."

But she wasn't fine, and she could still feel a stinging in the back of her eyes. The theatre club was preparing for their fall musical, The Addams Family, and Cora was in the ensemble along with some other freshmen girls. They got to try on their costumes for the first time today. But while all the other girls had barely gone through puberty and were still as slim as sticks, Cora was already curvier, and her costume clung tightly to her where it was supposed to hang loose. Like it did on everyone else.

She'd heard them all giggling at her.

"Are you not hungry?" Dad spoke up. "You've barely touched your food, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," she said dully, staring at her plate. "I guess I just don't have much of an appetite today."

Since Rasmus and Cora shared the great misfortune of living in the same building, they begrudgingly agreed to meet in the lobby and go to their interview together.

He wasn't all that surprised when he got there first. In the grand scheme of humanity, he supposed that he would classify her as one of the more punctual people out there, but girls always took twice as long to get ready than you expected them to. Even Ava, who was still young enough that he sometimes struggled to forget that she wasn't a little kid anymore, was the same way.

To Cora's credit, she showed up just a minute later than he did. But to her discredit, she looked a little bit silly—as she walked over to him, he noticed that a piece of hair at the back of her head was sticking up.

"Uh, you've got a little–"

Rather than finish that sentence, Rasmus proceeded to do something very instinctive but very stupid—lick his thumb and use it to smooth the hair down. Cora's eyes widened at the same time that her nose scrunched in distaste.

"That's disgusting."

"Yeah, well, would you expect anything else of me? You're welcome, by the way."

He said it with the usual bite of healthy cynicism, but something tightened in his chest—what the hell was that? He'd do that with his sister, sure, but not with other girls. And he most definitely did not do it with this one.

Cora had gotten under his skin all his life, but lately, she was starting to do it in a way that she hadn't before. And it scared him. He couldn't afford to get all soft with her just because she was nervous.

Just as he was chalking it all up to the fact that he'd gotten very little normal social interaction recently, she furrowed her eyebrows at whatever expression he was making and asked, "Does the rest of me look okay?"

He almost made a joke, almost said no. But he was already too thrown off from how this interaction had gone up until this point, and a guilty voice in the back of his mind reminded him of how freaked out she had seemed on their first day at the theater about how her dress made her look.

Wondering if her appearance was a touchy topic for her and not wanting her to panic right before they needed to go make themselves look like two very cool human beings who definitely did not hate each other's guts, he opted to glance down at her and remark, "Looking great."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm serious."

"I'm serious, too."

He desperately hoped she didn't realize it, but Rasmus was getting nervous about the interview, too. While he was generally good at conversation, he'd obviously never done anything of this scope. Their making a good impression on people could potentially be a vital piece of their show's commercial success, the thing that could make or break it, so screwing up somehow wasn't an option. It was driving him crazy to feel uncertain about it.

One of his least favorite things about Cora had always been that he could never predict her.

They were practically dead silent for their entire trip, which was much more normal behavior for the two of them than whatever had just ensued in the lobby. Once they were on the subway, he couldn't help but glance over at her out of the corner of his eye, watching the way her fingers fidgeted with the strap on her purse.

Rasmus refused to admit it, hated himself for even thinking about it, but half the reason he hadn't been able to tell her back there that she looked bad was because she didn't. She never did. In fact, it was always the opposite. Distractingly so.

Her hair was nothing special in this ugly underground lighting that washed all the nice colors out of the world, but he knew that when they stepped back into the sun he'd be able to see all the red tones in it. He'd never really been joking all those times he called her hot.

He couldn't have pinpointed the exact moment in time when the teenage hormones had hit him enough that they brought him to a moment where he processed that oh, she's pretty. But now, in her blazer and black, silky tank top and heels, she looked good. Really good. That was kind of her style—classy but also prepared to let loose if the opportunity presented itself. It didn't help that her lips were always a little pouty around him and that after all these years of knowing her, he still didn't have the slightest clue if that was her resting face or his effect on her.

One of these days, she was going to make him go insane.

He could add that to the list of things he despised about her.

They'd been given the office address and told that someone would meet them in the lobby. Sure enough, there was already an assistant waiting there for them when they arrived, a girl around their age who looked way more energetic than anyone had the right to be before at least 10 a.m.

"Cora and Rasmus?" she guessed when she saw them and approached, holding out her hand for them to shake. "I'm Aly. Paul just got out of his last meeting a few minutes ago–" Paul, Rasmus recalled from the little info they'd been given about this excursion in advance, was the dude interviewing them "–so he should be just about ready for you guys."

Aly led them through a narrow set of hallways—there wasn't exactly a lot of square footage to go around in Manhattan without paying an astronomical price tag—and into the filming studio. In a mildly-uncomfortable looking chair sat the middle-aged man who must have been Paul, and across from him was a couch. The sound, lighting, and camera guys appeared to be already testing their equipment, but Paul got up to greet the two of them before they got settled on the sofa, which looked expensive but was about as comfortable as a wooden board.

If he had to be shoved out of his comfort zone, Rasmus was at least grateful that the bright lights now shining in his eyes didn't faze him in the slightest anymore—they were nothing compared to the stage lights—and that the crew was just a handful of people. They seemed to have no interest in dawdling before doing a quick soundcheck and jumping into filming. Everyone in the room knew that Rasmus and Cora had to be at the theater in an hour for rehearsals.

The camera started rolling and Paul was introducing them—"I'm here with Cora Kline and Rasmus North, stars of the new play Illicit Affairs"—but Rasmus barely processed what was being said. He was too busy making sure he was holding himself correctly, relaxing but not slouching.

If you looked weird on stage, at least it wasn't preserved in video forever.

"Since its only past iteration was a workshop in Toronto, a lot of our viewers might not be familiar with the show," Paul started, which Rasmus assumed was his segue into the first real question. "Without giving it away too much, how would you describe it in a few words?"

Not wanting to leave space for too many awkward pauses, Rasmus offered the first thing that came to mind—"Intense"—though once the word was out of his mouth he felt like it wasn't a very good answer.

Cora followed up with, "Unpredictable." That was true—as soon as you thought you figured out where it was going, a curveball came up. Like that whole ghost thing. "And–" Rasmus thought she might be blushing just the tiniest bit, but it was hard to say in this lighting. "–Sexy."

Ah, the elephant in the room.

"Let's talk about that," Paul said, jumping at the window of opportunity to talk about the thing people would likely be the most curious about. "The word around town is that this is one of the steamiest shows Broadway's seen in years and that it's very focused on the chemistry between your two characters, which is why the producers wanted to find fresh talent who could bring a lot of energy to it. What's the rehearsal process been like? Is it daunting to make your Broadway debut in a show where you're front and center like that?"

For all her worrying, Cora was more of a natural at this than Rasmus was. She lightly laughed and breezily explained, "Like Rasmus said, it's intense. But it's also very exciting, and even though it can be a little bit scary for us sometimes, I can't help but wonder if it's even more intimidating for the creative team to trust us so much with this material. I feel extremely honored that they're giving us the opportunity to bring this script to life, and to me, that's absolutely worth any nerves I may be feeling."

Rasmus tried not to look impressed. She was smooth, he'd give her that. He genuinely couldn't tell if she'd anticipated the question and rehearsed any of that in advance or not.

"What has working with each other been like?" Paul prompted. "Had you two ever worked together before auditioning for this?"

Well, shit.

When Cora didn't immediately jump to answer, Rasmus knew it was his turn to talk. And he was smart enough to know that if he lied too much, it was going to bite him in the back at some later point in time when he accidentally contradicted himself.

"Cora and I have actually known each other all of our lives. We grew up in the same town and then went to the same college, so although this is our first time working together professionally, doing this show feels like reuniting with an old friend."

He gave her what he hoped looked like a fond smile. It was bullshit, but it was golden bullshit. People were going to eat it right up.

"And Cora's a brilliant actress and a great stage partner, so she makes it easy to fall in love with her."

She glanced over at him with wide, dark eyes, and it dawned on him that she hadn't expected him to talk about her so affectionately, lie or not, and it was enough to make him lose his train of thought. He'd been talking with his hands, but when he instinctively moved to set his left one down between them, it unintentionally brushed up against hers. It was soft, her skin surprisingly cool considering that they were literally under lights and metaphorically under pressure.

He froze, but she was quick on her feet. Processing that they couldn't awkwardly jerk apart on camera, she painted an amused expression onto her face and took his hand in hers.

"Trying to hold hands, Rasmus?" she teased, jokingly swatting it back to him. "I didn't know you liked me so much."

As they were leaving the building, they were quiet at first, both of them texting their agents to let them know how it went.

But finally, while she was shoving her phone in her purse, Cora told him, "I'm impressed. The boy who's been mean his whole life finally decides that he's capable of being nice?"

"I have not been mean for my entire life," he corrected her. "And what did you expect me to do?"

"I don't know. Not call me lovable."

He lifted his eyebrows, examining her face. Trying to read her, but she was a frustratingly closed book. "Does that bother you?"

"Do you care what bothers me?"

The answer should have been easy. She was infuriating, conceited. The fact that he'd maybe been seeing a slightly different side to her lately didn't change anything. He was certain that once they opened the show and their anxiety about it had ebbed away, she'd go right back to being the same stuck-up, obnoxiously perfect person he knew her to be. That she'd always been.

He told himself that she was still that person. And yet for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to knock her down and say no, so he stayed silent.