How to Keep a Boy from Kissing You (Aurora Skye Book 1)

The next morning I awoke from a nightmare in which Mr Peterman cast me in every role in Much Ado About Nothing, creating a one-woman show. I’d had to frantically change my costume for each character while the huge audience booed as they waited. I shook my head to clear it of the horrible images, and crossed the room to my window seat like a zombie. The sun was just a faint streak of lemon yellow in the distance. I drew my pyjama-covered knees up to my chest and gazed down at our courtyard. And saw the NAD sprawled face-down on the ground.

I let out a shriek and ran for the stairs.

Maybe the stress of heading up an advertising agency had finally got to the NAD and he’d had a heart attack while getting the morning newspaper. And I’d slept right through his cries for help. I grabbed the cordless phone and dialled the emergency number as I threw the front door open and dashed towards the NAD’s fallen form.

‘Pick up! Pick up!’ I cried into the phone as the courtyard pebbles crunched under my pink bunny slippers. Miraculously, the NAD’s head lifted from the ground.

‘Morning, honey,’ he said in a perfectly normal voice, as if lying face-down in the frontyard wasn’t anything to get worked up about.

‘Dad! You’re alive!’ I threw my arms around him. It was then that I noticed he was lying on a yoga mat.

‘Hello, Emergency. What is your location?’

Oh my god! I’d called Emergency because the NAD was practising yoga!

‘No emergency! Sorry to have bothered you!’ I pushed the hang-up button. ‘Dad! What are you doing?’

He smiled at me. ‘My yoga teacher suggested that we reconnect with the earth’s vibrations.’

‘And that involves lying in the frontyard?’

The NAD moved into a Salute to the Sun position. ‘Yeah. By the way, honey, how did your audition go yesterday?’

My dad works late hours, so often the only time we can catch up is mornings.

I kicked a pebble in frustration. ‘I’m playing Beatrice.’

‘Beatrice!’ Dad turned to look at me with a big smile and nearly lost his balance in the process. ‘Congratulations, honey! This calls for celebration hot chocolate!’

‘Dad!’ I trailed after him into the kitchen. ‘This is not a good thing. It’s going to be a disaster.’

Dad poured milk and cocoa into our special hot-chocolate pot. ‘Aurora, you’ve got to have more confidence in yourself.’

‘Confidence isn’t the problem,’ I said, adding the sugar. ‘I just don’t think I have the skill to bring the genius of Shakespeare’s words to life.’ I sighed. ‘Shakespeare’s like my hero. I know he’s going to be rolling in his grave at this miscasting.’

I pictured Shakespeare’s neck ruff twisting up as he tossed and turned in horror.

Dad stirred the hot chocolate thoughtfully. ‘Aurora, if Mr Peterman’s cast you as the female lead —’

I groaned.

‘— then he obviously thinks you have talent. Just try to connect with the words of Shakespeare and you’ll be on the right track.’

‘Hmm,’ I replied, as he poured the chocolate into oversized mugs. ‘I guess.’

Later, Dad drove me to school. We passed Hayden Paris a few blocks from the entrance. He was wearing a black and white striped shirt and his usual superior smile. I felt like sticking my tongue out at him. Hayden seems to bring out the five-year-old in me.

‘Hey, there’s Hayden.’ Dad slowed down. ‘Let’s give him a ride.’

‘Dad! We are not giving him a ride. We’re nearly there.’

My foot instinctively pressed down on an imaginary accelerator. Hayden obviously heard my yell through my open window because his head turned and he gave us a wave. I scowled.

Dad waved back. ‘Aurora, don’t tell me you’re still holding on to that old prejudice against Hayden. You two used to be such good friends — you were always over at his house when you were younger.’

My dad has such a positive attitude towards everyone. It must be because of the ‘think good thoughts’ dogma at yoga.

‘Yeah, well, that’s because —’

I was going to say, ‘because Mum wanted me out of the way’, but didn’t finish. I didn’t want to see Dad’s eyes darken like they always do when I mention Mum. The NAD’s good thoughts don’t extend to his ex-wife.

‘Yes, adult relationships can be complicated,’ Dad said.

What was he talking about? Hayden and I did not have a relationship. We had the opposite of a relationship — whatever that was.

‘But very rewarding,’ the NAD finished with a faraway smile on his face.

What was that about? I looked more closely at him.

‘Dad, is there something you’re not telling me?’

‘Hey! Here we are: Jefferson High! Go get ’em, honey!’

‘Dad, are you avoiding an answer?’ I asked, getting out of the car.

‘Bye, honey!’ the NAD cried, and our four-wheel drive tore out of the car park.

I watched the dust settle. Dad was acting very strangely. I was definitely going to tackle him on it later.

I headed up the school’s front steps and nearly crashed into a surging crowd in the hallway. What was going on? I spotted Cassie, Jelena, Lindsay and Sara amongst the swell and fought my way over to them.

‘Why are you staking out the hallway?’

‘We’re not only staking it out, we’re in the most advantageous spot,’ Jelena replied. She smoothed down her aqua mini.

I looked at the agitated crowd. ‘Is there some kind of student takeover going on?’

‘Did you have a nice walk home with Hayden?’ Sara asked, pursing her shiny lip-glossed lips in a kissy gesture.

‘Yes,’ I said sarcastically. ‘It was incredibly romantic.’

‘What’s incredibly romantic?’ Scott asked, joining us. Cassie quickly stood up straighter.

‘Why, me, of course,’ Hayden replied.

I groaned. Where had he come from?

‘Hayden, you and the word “romantic” are completely incompatible,’ I said.

‘Are you saying you know how I behave when I’m in love?’ Hayden put his hands in his dark denim jeans pockets and tilted his head.

‘Fortunately, no.’

‘Ooh. Harsh.’ Alex’s smooth voice came from just behind Jelena. ‘Cast list up yet?’

‘Nope,’ Scott replied.

‘I can’t wait any longer,’ Sara said, tapping a foot. ‘Doesn’t Mr Peterman realise the stress I’m going through? If I don’t win the role of Don John, supreme villain, then my talents are all for nothing —’

Thankfully her attention was diverted by a shout. ‘Cast list is up!’

The next minute I was being pushed forward by the crowd. Jelena manoeuvred her way to the front.

‘Yes! Everyone, you are looking at the new stage manager.’ She took a bow.

She had obviously worked her magic on Mr Peterman.

Alex pushed in front of her. ‘What part did I get? Knew it! I’m princely, baby!’

He picked Jelena up and swung her round. She let out a squeal and he gave a grin as the guys around us looked at him with jealous expressions.

‘Excuse me. Excuse me,’ Benjamin Zane called.

The crowd moved aside for him. Charisma: it can part seas. Benjamin gave the cast list an assured look, then walked away with a smile. Obviously he had the part of Claudio.

‘Sara, you’re playing Don John,’ Cassie called out.

Sara let out a dramatic sigh of relief.

Jeffrey Clark, standing behind Cassie, punched the air victoriously. ‘Woo! Dogberry!’

‘Lindsay, you’re working as a costume designer,’ Cassie continued. ‘And Scott, you and I are painting sets.’

I shot a triumphant look at Hayden. Cassie and Scott were working together and there was nothing he could do about it!

I suddenly realised that I should check the cast list too. Maybe I’d antagonised Mr Peterman enough yesterday to make him recast Beatrice! I raced over. There was my name, right beside the word ‘Beatrice’.

‘No,’ I moaned.

Hayden was standing next to me. ‘Sorry, Princess, you can’t fight fate.’

‘Fate?’ I said sarcastically.

‘Yeah.’ He grinned even harder. ‘We were meant to get up close and personal.’

‘Aurora!’ My mother strode up to me outside the city’s top beauty salon. There was more enthusiasm in her voice than I’d ever heard before.

‘Let’s go inside and get settled before I tell you anything,’ I said. She couldn’t hit the roof in the serene confines of a beauty parlour, could she?

My mother gave a perfect smile as she settled into the beautician’s chair. ‘This is the perfect setting for you to relay your fantastic news.’

I gave a wavering smile and sank down into a matching creamy leather chair.

‘So, Aurora, I thought we’d book you in for a facial each Friday, so your skin’s glowing by the time of the performance,’ my mother said.

‘Look, Mum, I —’

‘And I’ve been studying up on Hero’s role.’ Her voice was enthusiastic. ‘I’ve known since you were small that you’d be a performer.’

What was going on? My mother hadn’t paid this much attention to me since I was a child and she was dedicated to ensuring that my hair ribbons matched the exact shade of my dress.

‘Mum, I have something to tell you,’ I blurted out. ‘I didn’t get the role of Hero. I’m playing Beatrice.’

There was silence from my mother’s chair. As she was wearing cucumber slices over her eyes, I couldn’t read her expression, but her jaw was tensed. That could have been the tightening effect of the anti-ageing mask though.

‘Beatrice,’ she said.

‘Yes.’

‘Congratulations!’ my beautician, Amy, crowed as she painted my nails. ‘Beatrice is like the star of that whole play, isn’t she?’

My mother’s jaw relaxed and I silently thanked Amy.

‘Well, congratulations. It’s not Hero, but it’s still a good effort.’ Mum gave a smile. ‘And I have even better news. Remember how Bill took your portfolio shots a few weeks ago?’

‘Mum, I told you that I wanted you to call the agency and tell them I’m not interested!’ I said.

Last month, she’d forced me to have a series of photos taken by Jefferson’s most reputable fashion photographer, and had sent them to a casting and model agency — JJ’s Models. I thought she’d got the picture that I wasn’t keen on modelling or TV or film work.

‘Well, there’s a huge job coming up for a vitamin water commercial, and so far they’ve cut it down to five models including you.’

My mother beamed, and her beautician had to push her face back into a normal expression to spread the intensive moisturiser over it evenly.

‘You let them send my photos off for a job?’ I said, horrified.

‘It’s a big opportunity, darling. They called me and wanted you to go in for a casting call. I knew you wouldn’t like the idea of that, so I told them you were away on a shoot.’

A shoot? The only photo shoot I’d been part of lately was when Cassie, Jelena and I decided to do crazy makeovers at a sleepover and took Polaroids of each other.

‘So I had them send the audition tape you made for the agency,’ my mother went on. ‘The vitamin water people really like your look.’

‘But I don’t want to be on TV!’

Amy and the other beautician stared at me with shocked expressions.

‘I want to be a writer,’ I said. ‘I want to inspire people with my own words, not recite someone else’s lines about kiwi-flavoured hydration.’

‘Aurora, any other girl would jump at the chance.’

‘I’m not doing it, Mother.’ Now that my nails were dry, I got up and gathered my things. ‘I’m in Much Ado About Nothing, just like you wanted me to be. That’s enough of an acting challenge.’

‘Aurora,’ my mother said in a warning tone, ‘this is an amazing opportunity.’

‘Yes, it is. But it’s not the one that I want.’ I gave my mother a smile. ‘Thank you for the facial and the manicure.’

‘Aurora, I thought we’d do coffee and discuss this further. Just wait another twenty minutes. I’ve got to have my forehead Botoxed again.’

No way was I going to stick around and observe my mother being injected with a muscle-paralysing toxin.

‘Sorry, Mum, I have a rehearsal,’ I lied.

‘Now?’

‘Yes!’ I sprinted out the door.

Why was no-one listening to my wishes? My mother was determined to make me the next supermodel; Mr Peterman wanted me front and centre of his production; and my friends were intent on casting Hayden as my future hubby! It felt like I had no control over any part of my life any more.

I headed for the one place guaranteed to restore my inner peace. A bookstore.

I lost track of time as I perused the book aisles, seeking wisdom like a pilgrim visiting the Delphic Oracle. After an hour or so of browsing, I headed for the checkout laden down with reading material. As I passed the Mills & Boon section, I remembered the rumour that Mrs Kent was a closet romance writer. This was my chance to find out. I searched for the name I’d heard she used as her nom de plume: Catherine Goldstein.

There! I grabbed the novel and looked at the racy cover. A buxom blonde in a skimpy gown swooned in the arms of a broad-shouldered man. I opened it up to see if the writing resembled Mrs Kent’s style. Not that I’d really seen much of her writing beyond her comments on my essays. I started reading a love scene and my cheeks burned. Luscious bosoms?

‘Enjoyable reading?’ a low voice murmured in my ear.

I shrieked and whirled around to confront the pervert reading over my shoulder. As I turned, I stumbled, and fell towards Hayden Paris.

‘Hey, look, we’re almost replicating the pose on the cover,’ he remarked as he caught me.

‘You scared the life out of me!’

‘I see you’re still wearing that vanilla scent.’ Hayden set me on my feet, his hands on my shoulders to steady me. ‘It’s obvious, Aurora. Consumed by desire for me, you were drawn to the romance section.’

‘If you take a look at my intended purchases,’ I said, indicating my tower of books, ‘you’ll notice that none of them have anything to do with love.’

‘A cover,’ Hayden said. ‘You’re an intelligent girl; you knew you’d need one.’

I barely restrained myself from grinding my teeth in frustration.

‘Hey, this girl looks a lot like you, Aurora.’

I yanked the novel from him. The girl on the cover did look like me, but was very scantily dressed.

‘Why is this afternoon getting progressively worse?’ I said.

‘What happened this afternoon?’

‘Another episode in the continuing saga in which my mother finds it impossible to accept me as I am,’ I said before I could stop myself. Why was I telling Hayden my personal business?

‘Come on.’ He put a hand on my arm and guided me towards the bookshop’s café. ‘Let’s get a coffee and discuss it.’

A coffee and a discussion? That’s what girlfriends did together. However, I let him lead me to a table. I felt so miserable about the situation with my mother that I’d discuss it with anyone, even Hayden Paris.

‘My mother wants me to be a model,’ I stated flatly.

‘A model?’ Hayden’s eyes became wide and he took a large gulp of his coffee.

‘So that’s an unbelievable idea?’ I said, feeling cross at his reaction.

‘No, not at all,’ he said hurriedly, setting his coffee down. ‘You’re, you know …’

‘I’m what?’ I waited to see what insult would come out of his mouth, hoping I could think of a quick retort.

‘You’re, you know …’ he repeated. He looked oddly nervous. ‘You’re … you’d be a perfect model,’ he finished, taking another gulp of his coffee.

‘Why are you making a face?’ I asked suspiciously.

‘Just the thought of opening up a magazine and having you look out at me … it’s …’ He looked away.

No acerbic wit courtesy of Paris? The world was topsyturvy.

He turned his gaze back to me. ‘So you don’t want to do it?’

‘No. I know it sounds crazy because any other girl would love to —’

‘But you’re not just any girl,’ Hayden broke in. He halved a dark chocolate cookie, my favourite, and passed the bigger bit to me.

‘Yeah.’ I couldn’t believe he understood. ‘I appreciate the talent it takes to be a model, but it’s just not something that inspires me.’

‘What does inspire you?’ He looked at me intently.

‘This.’ I gestured at the books around us.

He leant forward. ‘The way books affect us?’

‘Yes!’ I cried.

‘I love that Kafka quote: “We need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide.”’ Hayden’s eyes were glowing. ‘“A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us.”’

I have to admit that I admire people who can quote passages from books. ‘That’s such a beautiful way of putting it.’

‘It’s one of my favourite quotes,’ Hayden said, stirring his coffee. ‘I get it. You want to be the one swinging the axe.’

‘With intention, not wildly!’ I laughed. ‘That sounds rather lethal.’

Hayden winked. ‘Good luck explaining that one to your mum.’

We laughed and sipped the last of our coffees at the same time.

‘Hey, why were you here?’ I asked as we parted ways, me to purchase my towering stack of books, him to go meet Scott.

‘Reasons,’ he said mysteriously and gave me a wave.

‘You’re a Mills & Boon fan, aren’t you?’ I called after him.

Several curious customers turned to check out the male romance junkie. Hayden gave me a ‘Sure’ look, but his face radiated embarrassment.

For once I’d got the better of Hayden Paris.