Collide by H.M. Ward

 
    COLLIDE
    The Secret Life of Trystan Scott
    Vol. 1
     
     
     
    YAParanormalRomance.com
     
     
     
     
    This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
     
    Copyright © 2012 by H.M. Ward
    All rights reserved.
     
    No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.
     
    Laree Bailey Press
    First Edition: Sept 2012
     
    COLLIDE
    The Secret Life of Trystan Scott
    Vol. 1
     
    H.M. Ward
     
     
     
    Laree Bailey Press
     
     
    col-lide : to come together with a solid or direct impact.
     
     
    CHAPTER 1
     
    ~MARI~
     
    The stage wing was thick with shadows. I sat in a metal chair in the alcove between the curtain and the wall, my finger trailing down the pages of the play. They just about knew their lines. The one guy who fumbled was getting chewed out by the director, Mr. Tucker. He was a young teacher, but he wanted perfection from day one. Since this was day twenty-seven, I supposed he was within his right to be agitated. The cast didn’t seem to be into this production.
    Leaning forward, I looked out past the stage and into the rows of seats. Trystan wasn’t there. That guy had chronic time issues. It didn’t matter that he was the lead in this production. His mind was a sieve when it came to learning his lines, so Tucker appointed me to run them with him on a daily basis. This daunting task should have been done prior to practice, but Trystan was late. Again. If he didn’t have charisma and a shockingly beautiful face, someone else would have been given the lead. But, when the guy finally learned his lines, he would make a room full of people swoon—especially the women.
    There wasn’t a girl around who didn’t want to be me. Every single actress and stage-hand offered to help Trystan learn his lines, but Tucker chose me. Why? Because I wasn’t interested in hanging out with a guy who couldn’t keep his lips to himself. That made me the best candidate, so I’ve been badgering the hottest guy in school for the past two years. Thank God he was a senior and this was the end of it. If I had to put up with his friend Seth much longer, I’d cut my ears off.
    Pushing off my chair, I took the play book and went to find Trystan. If he still didn’t know his lines, Trystan would be a dead man. By extension, I’d also get slammed in the crossfire. Public humiliation wasn’t my thing. I’d shove the play book down his throat if Trystan still didn’t know the second act in full today.
    Careful not to make any noise, I pushed past the black curtains that stretched floor to ceiling. Several more rows of black curtains hung behind the stage concealing the cinder block wall at the back. The set wasn’t finished yet, so they were still practicing with bare bones on a half empty stage. I moved quietly and tried to stay out of sight.
    Trailing my fingers against the cold walls, I felt my way through the darkness to the back of the stage. Inky shadows covered everything with only slices of light shining through. At the back of the stage there were three doors. Two led to dressing rooms and one led down into the prop room. The prop room was an oversized basement that spanned under the stage. It contained half a century worth of flats, props, and wardrobe. I felt for the metal doorknob and wrapped my fingers around it. Mr. Tucker’s voice was growing more agitated by the moment. If he saw me, he’d scream for Trystan—then we’d both be screwed. Turning the knob ever so slowly, I pulled the basement door open, careful not to make a sound and stepped around it.
    As I stood on the landing, I could hear voices below. Trystan was down there, probably sitting on the couch with his feet kicked up. His voice lacked the normal playfulness. It actually sounded uncertain. “No, it’s