The second afternoon of rehearsal dawns and Adam’s head is still pounding. After staying out late last night and working through the morning, Adam’s entire body is screaming at him to lie down. He wants to regret it, yet he finds an odd contentedness overtaking him. He puts it down to the fact that they’d finally start rehearsing today. The night before certainly wasn’t the reason, having been less than spectacular.

Though, he has to admit, talking with Shane wasn’t terrible.

“Charlie, what happened?”

The cast looks around at each other, everyone gathered in a loose circle around Violet. The director’s hair looks like it’s already frizzing from stress. Her fingers are clutching the clipboard so hard, Adam wonders if it’ll break. He thinks her stress is going to give him a second headache to go along with the one that reminds him why he doesn’t date anymore. Or stay out late.

Charlie shifts under the everyone’s attention. Today, along with her studded leather jacket and punch fascists shirt, she’s decked out with two silver crutches, tucked right beneath her arms, and a full boot. “I broke my foot crowd-surfing,” she says sheepishly.

Violet buries her head in both hands. When she looks back up, she doesn’t look any calmer. “Got it,” she says through clenched teeth. “And where’s Kyle?”

Cynthia, standing next to Adam, leans in. “Food poisoning. He should be back tomorrow.”

Adam thinks he should feel sympathetic. He doesn’t.

“Not a great way to start our second day,” Stefan, on Adam’s other side, murmurs. “Not that the first started so great either.”

Adam sips his coffee in lieu of responding, thinking he would much prefer it if they could just start practicing. Also to save himself the embarrassment of having to admit he was the problem from the first day. Luckily, everyone seems to have forgotten that, or decided it was unimportant in the face of two of their actors now being missing.

On the other side of the circle is Shane, leaning down to listen to Elijah, the actress playing Puck. They’d exchanged quick nods when they both arrived, but neither mentioned their discussion last night. Adam supposes this means they have a truce, or a quiet agreement not to bother each other. Last night, Adam could tell Shane wasn’t completely satisfied with Adam’s apology, but he wasn’t spitting mad either. He was certainly better at rolling with the punches than Adam.

Adam finds it odd that he wants to talk to Shane more. Last night, Shane had been easy to talk to, as any bartender tends to be. He carries a quiet sense of self-assuredness that makes others naturally gravitate to talk to him. It’s something Adam wishes he could have and has always tried to cultivate. But he always ends up too loud or saying the wrong things. Shane never seems to have that problem. Not that he says that much.

“Okay, everyone, we’ll forget about them for now,” Violet says. “I’ll read in Charlie’s place today, and… Adam, you can handle Oberon’s once we get to it?”

Adam flashes a smile. “Sure can,” Kyle’s going to be furious when he hears who read for him.

“Great,” Violet claps her hands, ending all other discussion. “Let’s get right into it everyone. We’re doing the cold read today to get everyone used to the flow and to get our Shakespeare back into us. Follow the blocking written in the script as you go, if you can.”

And just like that, they’re off. Adam, despite himself, can’t stop grinning. There’s something about the buzz of energy during the first read, the familiarity that they’re all there for one thing, the knowledge that they’ll all be lost in Shakespeare for the next five weeks together, that sets his heart pumping. This feeling, this is the one he’s been chasing for the last six years. The feeling that he’s about to dive into an entire world of the unknown and conquer it by himself.

Theseus, played by Charles, an unassuming blond, starts off with ease, the Shakespeare rolling off his tongue with the opening line. “‘Now fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour / draws on apace.’” Hippolyta, Theseus’ wife, and Egeus, Helena’s father, follow likewise, her voice soft and melodious, while his is boisterous and booming.

Then it’s Shane’s turn, and Adam leans in slightly, curious to see how he’ll sound.

At first, Adam is lulled by Shane’s voice. It’s a little quiet compared to the others who read before him, but it’s smooth, with a little rumble, as if he’s just woken up. The words fall from his mouth smoothly. “‘You have her father’s love, Demetrius; / Let me have Hermia’s.’”

And then it falls apart, before Shane even reaches the end of Act two. Adam almost doesn’t notice, so focused is he on both Oberon’s and Quince’s lines. Waiting off to the side, only Charlie and Shane hold the main stage. Shane then launches into Lysander’s next lines.

“‘O, take the sense, sweet of my innocence!

I mean that my heart unto yours is knit,

So that…’”

“Go back, Shane you skipped a line,” Violet calls from her seat in the audience.

On stage, Shane flushes a bit. “Sorry.”

“Just go back to the top.”

Shane nods, as Charlie gives him the thumbs up, and begins again. “‘O, sweet of my innocence…’ Shit. Sorry, again,” Shane scratches the back of his neck, taking a deep breath.

“Take it slow,” Violet says, leaning forward in her seat now.

“‘O, take the sense, sweet of my innocence!

Love takes the meaning in love’s conference

I mean that my heart unto yours is knit.

So that but one heart we can make of it.

Two bosoms interchained with an oath;

So, then, two bosoms and a single troth.

Then by your side no bed-room me deny;

For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.’”

Adam frowns, momentarily distracted. Technically, it’s all the right words, but something seems off. Violet stands, calling for a stop again. She hops up on stage, clipboard still in hand and moves to stand with Shane and Charlie.

“Okay, Shane, that’s better. But you know, we need to put a bit more feeling into it. Charlie,” Violet turns to the girl, who nods. “Do you feel like he’s in love with you here?”

“Ah, not so much,” the other woman admits.

Violet gives an understanding nod, turning back to Shane. “Lysander seems like it’s a pretty easy role at first glance, but it doesn’t work if you can’t convince the audience that you really are running away with the love of his life and do comedy in the same breath. Like, he’s basically trying to seduce her here. So, try it again.”

Violet strides back off stage, as Shane nods, jaw tight. Once she’s in her seat, she gestures for them to go.

It doesn’t get any better, though. If anything, it’s worse, as every word from Shane’s mouth seems to come out flat and hollow, giving Charlie and the others nothing to work with. It doesn’t help that the more uncertain he seems to become, the less he seems to try.

Over the course of the hour, Adam’s jaw drops slightly while he watches Shane stumble over certain transitions, then it drops fully when he completely mispronounces something. Violet gently corrects him, as the rest of the cast turn to each other. At some point, Stefan raises his eyebrows at Adam as if to say What the hell? Adam shrugs back at him, equally bemused. Maybe just nerves, Adam figures.

But the rest of the read doesn’t get much better. As Shane fumbles, the actors playing across from him don’t seem too thrilled and begin to lose their own momentum. An hour in and halfway through act two, Adam’s somehow surprised that the rest of the cast hasn’t full on revolted yet.

In the middle of a scene between Titania and Bottom, Adam sidles up to Violet, who’s sitting cross legged on the edge of the stage, chewing on her pen, and writing notes on her legal pad. “Violet,” he whispers.

“What?” she says, tersely, never taking her eyes off the actors.

“Well, about this whole understudy thing…”

Violet waves both hands, just nearly missing stabbing Adam in the eye with her pen. “You’ll go on if he gets sick, Adam, or breaks a leg.”

“Oh come on. He can barely get through a sentence now.”

“Who’s the director here, Adam? Now go away, before I have to re-cast you.”

Raising his hands in surrender, Adam backs away. Still, the excitement for the first rehearsal seems to have vanished from the cast, dampened by the continuous stops and starts and Violet yelling every two seconds. At this point, he’s given her the thought. Eventually, if this continues, she’s definitely going to have to cave. They don’t have time to teach Shane how to act.

Adam almost feels bad for him. But not enough to stall his excitement.

The rest of rehearsal proceeds in much the same way. By the time the end comes, about two hours later, everyone looks frazzled and severely demotivated. Adam takes his time slowly gathering his things, eyeing his target. Shane and Violet are whispering with their heads together at the edge of the stage. Whatever Shane says upsets Violet, because she shakes her head fervently and begins to walk away. She doesn’t even glance at Adam as she stalks past, then all the way up the aisle.

Now, it’s just the two of them left. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Shane takes the steps off the stage one at a time. After the chaos of rehearsal, the theater is eerily quiet, and Adam can hear every single one of Shane’s footfalls.

Shane doesn’t appear to notice Adam, seemingly lost in thought as he grabs his bag. Adam can’t resist, moving closer. He calls out. “Violet looked really happy.”

Finally, Shane glances over. Adam can’t quite read his face, but he certainly wouldn’t call it delighted to see him. Shane shoulders his bag. “Violet’s only happy if she has something to stress about.”

“Like one of her lead actors flubbing his lines?”

Shane stops halfway down the aisle. “Yeah,” he says evenly. “Like that.”

It’s impressive that Shane’s able to keep a cool demeanor about him. Adam hums, following Shane up the aisle. At this distance, he’s reminded of how much taller Shane is. The man looms over him, backlit by the dim theater lighting, face mostly in shadow, hiding his expression. Adam has a feeling that, like Violet, Shane won’t be too happy to discuss changing roles.

Adam goes for the casual approach. “So, what’d you think of the first day?” Simple, easy question, between actors.

Shane, on the other hand, cuts right to the chase. “I know I sucked today. I don’t really want to replay the specifics of me sucking,” he heaves a sigh, clutching the straps of his bag. “Sorry, Adam, I have to go and work my last night shift at my bar. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With a curt nod, Shane turns on his phone and follows the same path Violet did earlier, leaving Adam as the only one in the theater. Adam stands there for a moment, at a loss.

This whole secure-a-leading-role plan is going to be more difficult than Adam first thought.