Read My Lips (A College Obsession Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

notices me too, quickly beckoning me over.
    “Where the hell did you go Saturday night?” she whispers when I take the seat next to her. “You just up and left! Then, you wouldn’t answer any of my knocking on your door all day …”
    “I got tired,” I lie. My foot kicks into a red cup from Saturday that was left by the seat. “Yesterday, I was probably at the campus bookstore. Did you know that Klangburg University has its own clothing line?”
    “Yeah, it’s called college merch. Every school’s got it. Do you know what crew you want, Des?”
    I frown. “What do you mean?”
    “Tech crew. That’s the point of this class. You get introduced to the five tech crews and get to pick which one you want to do for the semester. Or, rather, they assign you one based on your preference. If you get cast in a play, it counts for a tech credit. No, I haven’t been cast yet.” Victoria rolls her eyes, clearly holding back a flood of rants. “Are you all actress? Or do you ever get your hands dirty?”
    That’d be Cece who is all actress and can’t even be bothered to move a damn curtain out of her way when she enters or exits the stage. “That’s what the stagehands are for,” she had the gall to say to me once.
    And just before I answer Victoria, all of my composure is ruined in an instant.
    I see him .
    The tatted hottie from Saturday night’s mixer. The man who still hasn’t given me proper directions to the School of Sex. The nameless wonder from the wings with the body of a demigod.
    I claw at my bag. I’ve never wanted someone so badly.
    He saunters past carrying a Fresnel lantern by the handle, his bicep bulging in the effort as he crosses the stage. His shirt is tight. His jeans, loose and sexy. I’ve broken out in a sweat just watching him.
    “Dessie?”
    A smirk finds my lips. “Yeah,” I murmur back to her. “I get my hands dirty. Real, real dirty.”
    Then a lean, bearded man who looks like a wizard in coveralls rises from the front row and faces the auditorium. “Good morning, you bunch of brats, you. I see a lot of new faces out there, so I’m going to assume that most of you are freshmen. Sure, a lot of you are probably hopeful actors, figuring you waltzed in here from a high school that kissed your butt every time you projected loud enough for someone beyond the front row to hear you. Loud voices earned you parts. Well, you’re in for a rude awakening.”
    Rude, indeed. I can’t stop watching him onstage as he transports lighting equipment from one end to the other. There is very little imagination involved in picturing his naked torso, what with the tightness of his shirt leaving little to be curious about.
    He is ripped . I could spot his godlike physique from a mile away. His eyes pierce me and he’s not even looking at me.
    I’ve never been jealous of lighting equipment before.
    “College is your first taste of the real world,” the wizard is going on. “Plays only have so many roles, and chances are, you won’t get any your first year here. You might not ever get cast. This is a reality you must face.”
    That man onstage is a reality I want to face. I want to face him so hard. I want him to face me. I’m staring at his bulging biceps as he works, my heart racing so hard I wonder if Victoria can hear it.
    “Technical Theatre is not for failed actors. These people make a living. More often, they make a better living than you actors ever will because there is always work for lighting monkeys, soundboard operators, costume stitch-weaver-people, prop masters, house managers—the list goes on and on. Our program requires only six hours of tech crew before you can graduate. That’s six times I’m gonna see your ugly faces in this room. We only meet here today. This Wednesday, you will be meeting at your assigned crew area. Understood? Good.”
    Hot guy sets down a light, which issues a loud bang that ripples across the stage. He returns to the rack for yet another, sauntering as