CHLOE Drama practice started soon after. Standing in the middle of the stage, I stared nervously at the script in my hand. I had made out with Jett. The memory of his hands under my shirt kneading my b**asts as he kissed me made my cheeks flush. We were just praticing the some minor parts in the play. The FL, Lady Seraphyne, was supposed to refuse a marriage set by her father, confessing her love for a poor boy. “Chloe?” Miss Emerson called from the front row, tapping her clipboard. “Line 14.” I blinked, snapping out of the haze. Ezra, already in costume, stood a few feet from me on stage. His eyes searched mine, cold and unreadable. Right. Ezra was playing the poor boy, Lucien. I swallowed the lump in my throat and read aloud, trying to sound strong. “I don’t care for titles or bloodlines, Lucien. I choose you.” Ezra stepped closer, his voice low and full of emotion. “Even if your father disowns you?” “Yes,” I whispered, suddenly forgetting the next line as he look
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