Always Only You by Chloe Liese (z-lib.org).epub

stand'st between her father's ground and mine! Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and
lovely wall, Show me thy chink’—”
Andy lifts his hand, joining his thumb and forefinger, then Tyler continues.
“‘—To blink through with mine eye! Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield
thee well for this! But what see I? No Thisby do I see.’”
Tyler rolls up his script and whacks Andy over the head. Andy yelps.
“‘O wicked wall,’” Tyler yells, “‘through whom I see no bliss! Cursed be thy
stones for thus deceiving me!’” he says, whacking Andy a few more times.
A roll of laughter travels the room. Some of the guys whistle and hoot as
François saunters to the other side of Andy’s blanketed arm.
“Maddox.” Kris lobs a pillow at his head. “It’s your line, asshole.”
Matt slowly glances up from a magazine he’s been flipping through. “I’m
sorry, where are we?”
Everyone groans.
“Why’d you give him Theseus?” Rob whispers from my right.
I shrug. “Trying to extend an olive branch. Obviously, a wasted effort.”
“I hope he gets traded,” Rob mutters. I keep my mouth shut, but Rob knows I
feel the same way, and I’m not the only one. Nobody likes Maddox. He’s made
enemies of all of us.
Kris stomps over to Matt. “I’ll read it if you won’t—”
“I’ll. Do it.” Matt glares up at him, then delivers in an underwhelming
monotone, “‘The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.’”
A collective sigh of disappointment. I have to stifle a laugh. The guys get so
into it now that we’re a few years in, they’re beside themselves when someone
messes up. Tyler says Pyramus’s line, and then it’s François’s moment.
He delivers his lines in a French-accented, perfectly over-the-top falsetto,
before Tyler puckers his lips near Andy’s hand, where his thumb and pointer
create the chink. “‘O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!’”
François leans to purposefully misplace his kiss—his next line is supposed to
be, “I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all”—but before he can, Andy lowers
his hand so that Tyler and François actually smash mouths.
An eruption of entertained oooohhhs echoes in the room. Tyler glares murder
at Andy. François grabs Andy by the blanket around his neck, and before I can
even step in to avoid disaster, François tackles him to the ground. Tyler jumps
in, and soon, it’s a mosh pit of brawling, hyped-up hockey players.
“Guys!” I yell. Kris hurtles past me, flinging himself on top of the growing
pile of bodies. I drop my head and sigh. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”