Short Romance Stories

Stage Presence- pt. 1

I walked into the moderately filled auditorium with an air of false confidence and sat down as soundlessly as possible near the front. Well, scratch that. I hobbled in with as much of a cool façade as one can put on while on crutches.

I was auditioning for a role in the musical adaptation of School House Rock! and hoped and prayed that they would accept me solely on the fact that I could sing and they could witness my dancing later.

And no, I will not elaborate on the real reason why I was on crutches. We'll just say that I was involved in a horrible break-dancing accident that ended with a little more breaking and a little less dancing than intended. My broken ankle was simply a casualty.

After a flurry of activity eventually leading up to the auditions of many hopefuls, and what seemed like hours of me fidgeting in nervousness, my number was called. I slowly stood, grabbing my crutches from their station at my feet and making my way up the steps to the stage one at a time. With every step, the wood seemed to groan in protest, and was made even louder by the awkward silence of the room. I finally made it up the small flight, a single bead of sweat making its presence known as it traced my hairline. I walked to the microphone and adjusted it. Someone cleared their throat from the audience. So far down, and unseen with the spotlight shining in my eyes. I could only see the first row of people, sitting at a desk. There were three of them; the first, a middle aged woman. She had a glassy stare that made me almost believe she was some sort of mannequin set up simply so they could say they had three directors. To say that she was unnerving would be an understatement. The guy next to her listlessly chewed on the cap of his pen and tapped the shiny black shoe on his right foot against the carpeted flooring beneath the table. He seemed no older than a sophomore in college, and looked almost familiar to me. Despite his obvious impatience, he was eyeing me carefully, scrutinizing every aspect. I wondered what he was looking for, exactly. Next to him was an older woman, and despite this being completely cliché, she reminded me so much of the drama teacher from High School Musical that I suddenly wanted to burst out singing Breaking Free and hope that she cast me as the lead role on the spot.

After a few more seconds of scrutiny, the guy in the middle finally spoke:

"And you are...?"

"Camryn," I replied, my voice sounding a little throatier than I meant, and suddenly I felt gross. I tried to swallow the lump accumulating in the back of my mouth, but it only seemed to grow bigger and I could feel myself losing confidence as quickly as a balloon being sat on by an elephant. Great, now I felt like a balloon. Or an elephant. Neither was a pretty picture, especially if said elephant was on crutches.

"And what will you be singing for us today, Camryn?"

I tugged on the frayed sleeves of my sweater as I responded, clearer this time: "Hopelessly Devoted."

I was met with blank stares.

"From Grease," I added sheepishly.

The lady on the left rolled her eyes. "Yes, we know. Begin whenever you're ready."

I swallowed yet again, my mouth suddenly dry. I didn't think I could possibly sing without a glass of water, but my mouth opened of its own accord and I found myself in the situation where either I sang or I looked like a goldfish that the cat had plucked out of its bowl and plopped on the table.

And the lyrics, amazingly, fell from my lips in perfection I didn't know I could muster in front of a live audience. The only other being that had ever heard me sing was my little Cocker Spaniel, Aslan, when I sat him down on my bed and pretended he was a multitude of people and I was the performer, using my hairbrush as a microphone, the whole works. Aslan, on his part, would do one of two things: he would either cock his head to the side, as if questioning why his human was opening her mouth so wide and emitting a series of complex sounds along with hand gestures; or he would pad around a bit before collapsing and tucking his nose under his tail, taking a nap as I serenaded him.

The directors did neither.

Well, the guy in the middle did cock his head to the side, but other than that, they were completely still. And after I had belted the last line, complete in nightgown-clad-Sandy fashion, I was met with silence and a small smile from Ms. Darbus herself.

"Well, thank you, Camryn, you've given us a lot to think about."

I smiled widely and muttered a thank you, then quickly limped offstage as they called the next number. Just as I was about to reach the bottom of the stairs, a guy appeared in front of me. I nearly slammed into him in my attempt to take the last step from the stage, but luckily I caught myself.

It was just a quick glimpse between the two of us. All I saw were his mouth and the writing on his t-shirt, not processing until after he had passed and left only the faint smell of Old Spice in his wake as he ascended the steps. I took a seat in the front row, sighing lightly as I settled in and watched him.

He looked completely intriguing, wearing what I now saw was a My Chemical Romance t-shirt. He flashed a smirk at the directors before casting a wary eye around the auditorium. I prayed silently that he would somehow notice my gaze, but he didn't. He looked back to the table and they asked him his name. I sat on the edge of my seat, suddenly intent on hearing from his own lips what everyone called him, just so I didn't have to call him Old Spice Guy or My Chemical Romance Boy or something for the rest of my life.

"Isaac."

Funny, I wouldn't have pegged him as a Isaac. Flynn, yes. Seth, yes. Oliver, yes. Something so normal, so unintriguing about the name didn't seem to fit the boy onstage.

Isaac didn't fidget, and he didn't look at all uncomfortable standing in front of the small crowd. In fact, he seemed at home. And when he had told the judges that he would be singing Moon River and began singing, he seemed to meld with the entirety of the auditorium. He wasn't there, we weren't there, and his voice simply was. I closed my eyes and listened, fully immersed in the melodic nature of it, rubbing my arms absentmindedly to avoid the goosebumps rising on them.

"Moon river, wider than a mile..."

And when it was over, when the last resonance of his voice had faded into the walls and I realized that the directors had thanked him and he was exiting the stage, I looked up to see him sit next to me.

I continued to glance at him out of the corner of my eye, until he turned to face me and stuck out his hand. I turned and took it hesitantly.

"I'm Isaac, by the way," he announced quietly. I nodded. A smile slowly crept to my face as he shook my hand before I let go and rested it in my lap. "And you're... wait... Camryn?"

I nodded again, studying his face now that he was closer. He had dark brown hair, which was rather unruly resting on the top of his head. His skin was rather fair, with freckles dotting along his cheeks like stark pebbles lying in the ocean sand. Dark brown eyes were looking back at me expectantly.

I cleared my throat, realizing he probably figured I would say something.

"Uh, do you think you got a part?"

This sparked a long conversation between the two of us. We had to be quiet because of the ongoing auditions, but we still managed to talk about what we hoped to do in the production. And finally the auditions were over, and before we knew what was going on everyone was getting up and leaving. We continued to sit, watching our fellow auditioners walk out of the room. I finally stood up and Isaac followed suit. He was, upon further inspection, a few inches taller than me. He looked over once we'd gotten into the aisle, leaning on one of the seats behind him.

"Will I see you next week?"

I chuckled before turning and beginning to walk toward the exit. "Wouldn't miss the audition results for anything."

He smiled. I liked that smile. It was genuine, not completely straight or perfect. "Alright, then," he said before running to open the door. I smirked at him and walked out. "I'll see you, then," I told him, walking in the direction of my car. I heard the door close behind us, and his retreating footsteps. I couldn't wait for next week.

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This is a two-part story, I just wanted to break it up cuz otherwise it would be extremely long. Next part should be up soon. Love yall! -Alex xx