by Serena Grey
My eyes eat up the words, reading as fast as I can. “They watched their mother die.”
Fiona nods. “Something like that has to leave scars, right?”
“I can’t even imagine the pain.” I see an image of Aidan in my head, smiling, teasing people on set, telling Clara in wardrobe how beautiful she looks, and it’s hard to believe that somewhere in there is this sad, lost little boy.
“Maybe he hasn’t gotten over it, and he’s afraid to let people in?” Fiona is filling in the blanks with her overactive imagination. “He lost his father too, a few years after that. Maybe he’s still aching inside and needs healing.”
“If healing is code for sex, he gets a lot of that, believe me.”
“What if he wants more, and he’s afraid to reach for it because he’s still hurting inside?” She gives me a dreamy look and I toss a pillow at her.
“This is real life Fiona, not one of your novels.” As much as I want to believe the only reason Aidan rejected me is his childhood trauma, it’s very unlikely.
It’s more likely he’s just not that attracted to me.
Not attracted enough to break his rules about dating actresses he works with. Not attracted enough to find out what my dad would think. Not attracted to take advantage of the fact that I’d thrown myself at him.
It rankles.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I say with a sigh, handing Fiona her phone.
The next day, after another set of rehearsals without Aidan, the rest of the cast heads out to attend a photography exhibition headlined by one of Kyle’s friends. I stay behind, even though he invited me. I’m too miserable about Aidan to want to do anything but be by myself.
After lingering in my dressing room for a while, I head home too, taking a last-minute detour toward the stage.
Most of the technicians are gone for the day and as I walk past all the boxes and material stacked offstage, I’m practically alone.
As always, the mere significance of my location overwhelms me. Especially with no one else around to detract from the beauty of the wide-open stage, the immense auditorium, and the ghosts of thousands of past performances hanging in the air like a fantastic daydream.
It’s beautiful, and the beauty emphasizes my solitude. I feel almost as if I’m carrying the weight of all the thousands of heartbreaks that have been portrayed on the stage.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
Aidan’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts, overwhelming me with a mixture of shock, surprise and happiness.
“Aidan!”
My voice conveys everything I’m feeling…relief, longing, happiness and a host of other emotions I can’t even explain.
He’s seated a few rows from the front, cloaked by the shadows. As I watch, he rises and walks toward me. He’s wearing jeans and a sweater, and his hair waves over his collar, longer than usual, and devastatingly sexy.
My heart is racing, swelling. I want to run to him and tell him how happy I am to see him.
I know that I love you.
Taking a deep breath, I squelch my excitement and wait for him to come to me, focusing my thoughts on the memory of the humiliation I felt when he rejected me.
“I heard you were coming back tomorrow,” I say evenly, even though my heart is aching.
“I got back into town last night.” He climbs onto the stage with a lithe movement that makes me forget everything but how much I want him. There’s something tender in his expression as he comes straight toward me, and something else, something that mirrors what I’m feeling. “I have to apologize, to you, and to the rest of the production.”
With him so close, I can’t think straight. I pull in a shaky breath. “My father has been livid.”
“Understandable.”
Just one step and I’ll be in his arms. I can feel waves of intensity emanating from his body, and I’m aching, aching for him to touch me, aching for him to encourage me, to convince me the rejection of that night didn’t happen.
He turns to face the seats. “I used to come to the theater with my brother when I was a child,” he tells me. “Landon would get a backstage pass.” He looks at me and chuckles. “I found it hard to communicate back then, but in theaters, I somehow came alive.”
I can’t take my eyes off him. I remember the image of him as a little boy, wrapped in a blanket, sad and confused. “It’s hard to see you as someone who found it hard to communicate. It’s easier to imagine you as a precocious, talkative child.”
He meets my gaze, his eyes clouding with a heartbreaking melancholy. “You’d be surprised.”
His expression makes me want to reach out and touch him. Instead, I turn my gaze to the seats in front of us.
“My mother was a performer when she met my dad. She’d been in a few shows and even received a few nominations, but she retired when she had me. I think she always planned to go back to work, but she never did. She died, and now it’s almost as if she never existed.”
I can feel his eyes on me. “Not to you.”
“It’s not like I’ll ever forget her. She was my mom. But the audience…”
“I don’t think the audience mattered as much to her as you did.” He searches my face. “Is that why you’re afraid of being forgotten?”
He remembers our conversation. I swallow. “Yes, I think.”
“I said it would be impossible for anyone who knows you to forget you.” His voice is soft. “I meant that.”
“Thank you.”
We’re both quiet, gazing at the seats. I steal a glance at him, admiring the way the work lights accentuate the planes and angles of his face.
He’s so perfect.
“For someone who found it hard to communicate as a child, you seem to know all the right things to say these days.”
He chuckles. “Just telling you the truth, Liz… And anyway, it wasn’t like I wasn’t always good with words. I just spent a lot of my childhood unable to say them out loud.”
Because of the accident? I hold his gaze. “Tell me why.”
He sighs. “After…after my mother died, I had this crazy belief that I’d caused the accident. That I’d distracted her with my crying…” he shakes his head. “I was a silly kid. I thought if I was silent for long enough, she’d come back and my dad would stop drinking himself to death.” His eyes close, and a heartbreaking vulnerability creeps into his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It’s old history.”
I place one hand on his. “It’s fine. I’m glad you told me.”
His eyes flare, and all I want to do is fall into his gaze and drown. I want him so much it hurts. It hurts to imagine all the reasons he’s keeping his distance. Am I not good enough? Attractive enough?
Why doesn’t he want me?
Do I even want to know?
“Liz.” He’s still gazing at me, almost as if he can’t bear to look away from my face. “About the other night… There’s a lot about me you don’t know and…” He sighs and takes a step toward me. “You’re incredible, Liz, and beautiful and you have this play and your whole life ahead of you. I shouldn’t have let things get as far as they did that night. I just wanted…” He stops. “It was unfair to you, and I wish I could take it back.”
I’m shaking, finding it hard to breathe. He’s rejecting me all over again…letting me down easy.
It’s not you Liz, it’s me.
Of course.
I don’t want to hurt you.
Yet, he’s hurting me all over again.
I take a step back. “Stop.”
“Liz…”
“No, seriously, stop.” I close my eyes and imagine myself on a stage, in front of an audience. “Forget what I said the other night. I was a little carried away.” I give him a bright smile. “Understandable, really. You’re very intense up close.” I pause. “And as for letting things get as far as they did…come on, Aidan…It was only third base.”
His eyes narrow. “Liz...”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing! It was nothing,” I force a laugh. “I like you, but it has more to do with your work than with your personality.” I shrug. “I got a little carried away that night. Now, I’m over it.”
My insides are shriveling under the force of his gaze, but I stay in character. “I’m glad you’re back Aidan. The play needs you.” Then to show him how little I care, I go to him, and standing on the tips of my toes, place a kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight.”
I almost lose my resolve when my lips touch his skin and my nose fills with his scent. Stepping back, I give him another easy smile. As I walk away, I can feel his eyes boring into my back.
Chapter Fourteen
Aidan
You’re making a big deal out of nothing.
I could tell that she was lying. She’s a good actress, but I know a performance when I see one.
Still, I allowed it.
What was I supposed to do, insist she acknowledge that what happened between us meant something? Tell her how I can’t help being insanely attracted to her, how I’ve dreamed about her every night, and then reject her all over again?
No. It’s best to let her go.
Whatever she’s feeling, she’ll get over it.
Too bad I can’t say the same for myself.
After a few moments, I make my way backstage. Liz is long gone, but Cruz is only just heading out.
“Hey.” He stops when he sees me. “Just saw Liz.”
I try not to glare at him. “And?”
He sighs. “Look. She’s doing a great job. Everybody can see that.”
“And you think I can’t?”
“I’m just saying, man. She’s your star. It doesn’t serve the production if you’re in a continuous conflict with her.”
“I’m not.”
“Good then.” He looks me over. “It’s great to have you back…and don’t disappear on me again. I’m getting too old for that.”
I nod. He doesn’t ask me why I left. We’ve worked together and have been friends long enough for him to know that sometimes, I need to be alone.
He turns his concerned gaze away from me. “I was heading home, but if you want to hang out for a while, get a drink…”
I shake my head. “I know you’d rather go home to Cherise.”
“Who wouldn’t?” He laughs, his face brightening at the mention of his wife’s name. “See you tomorrow, man.”
We go outside, and after he rides off on his bike, I head toward my apartment. The sounds of traffic and pedestrians barely intrude on my thoughts as I walk.
You’re making a big deal out of nothing.
I’m tempted to call Landon and unload everything on him, but after the events of the last two days, I’m hesitant to give him license to worry about me. Especially now that he’s back in San Francisco with Rachel.
The mystery girl who appeared in his apartment.
He found her, and now they’re together.
Well, if anybody deserves to have fun, it’s Landon.
Once home, I’m about to order dinner when I decide I should think along those lines as well. Have some fun. Forget about Liz.
I scroll through the numbers on my phone. It would be so easy.
And yet…
Who am I kidding?
The only person who remotely interests me right now, is Liz.
Somehow, I make it to the last day of rehearsals before the preview without confessing to Liz that I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s a major triumph, especially since she’s determined to prove how little she cares about me by flirting with me and every other guy on the production, while ignoring the fact that I’m constantly eating her up with my eyes.
She’s acting like that night never happened while I’m becoming a wreck around her.
Very suave.
I’m counting the days till opening night, because God knows, I need to put some actual physical distance between us.
“Ready for tomorrow?” Cruz is heading toward the stage door.
I grin. “How many times have we done this, man?”
He laughs. “Not nearly enough times. I have butterflies in my belly.”
“They’ll pass.” I watch him go, then head up to my office. Liz’s dressing room door is open, and my steps slow, my heart kicking up a notch at the thought of being alone with her, even though I know she’s just going to blow me a kiss and send me away with a few empty words and smiles.
Kyle is inside the small room with her. He has his hand on hers, and they’re smiling in each other’s faces. Liz turns toward the door and meets my eyes, but I don’t wait to see or hear anything else. I keep walking, heading to my door and opening it just as she catches up to me.
“Aidan.”
I step inside my office, not bothering to look at her. “What?”
“Can I come in?”
No.
No.
I hate that it’s so obvious that I’m jealous. She knows it. I know it. I want her. So much that I can barely think.
I step back to let her into the office, shutting the door then turning to watch as she walks to my desk.
“I wanted to talk about tomorrow,” she says, her voice light. “Kyle was just telling me how he deals with stage jitters. I’m still a little nervous, and I wondered if you had any tips.”
The easy casualness of her tone irritates me.
“Just show up.” My voice is gruff and dismissive. “Is that all?”
She doesn’t respond. When I look at her face, the careless mask is no longer there. Her eyes are imploring, wanting…… wanting what exactly?
“Is that all?” I repeat.
Her eyes don’t leave mine. Slowly, she shakes her head. She wants much more. As I do. Desperately.
“What do you want, Liz?” I should ask her to leave, but the frustrations of the past few days, no weeks, have messed with my common sense. “You’re bored with Kyle? Looking for someone else to play with?” I don’t give her a chance to reply. I’m done acting like I’m not desperate to take everything she’s offered me before.
With one step, I have her in my arms, then my mouth is on hers, tasting and taking. Instantly, she takes over my senses. All I feel is her. With my body, I press her against the desk as I cup the back of her slender neck with one hand while the other curves around her waist. She melts against me with a soft moan that drives me slightly insane. My head fills with her scent, taste, touch. All I want is to bury myself inside her and drown in exquisite pleasure.
I release her lips and my eyes drink in every feature on her perfect face, her wide eyes, flushed cheeks, her red swollen mouth. She makes a soft sound, then reaches her face up to mine, begging for another kiss.
I oblige, lifting her off her feet and setting her on the very edge of the desk. I’m standing between her thighs, with her slim legs wrapped around me. I grip her pert behind and pull her forward, letting her feel just how much I want her. She moans and moves against me, driving me crazy.
“Every time I saw you these past weeks, every damn time you laughed and flirted and acted as if what happened between us was nothing, this is what I wanted to do.”
She arrests me with her deep green eyes. I don’t miss the challenge in their depths. “Then why don’t you?”
“Fuck, Liz.” There’s so much inexperience and trust in those eyes.
I know that I love you.
Guilt floods me. I can’t. No matter how much I want to. If not for any other reason, for the fact that she deserves more than the wreck I am inside. I step away from the desk and run a hand through my hair. I’m aching with need and seeing her still perched on the edge of my desk isn’t helping the situation in my pants. “I have a lot on my mind. You should go home.”
“No.”
I try for humor. “That’s an order from your director.”
“Right now, I don’t give a fuck about my director. Stop treating me as if I don’t know what I want, or like I’ll break into pieces if you touch
me. I want this just as much as you do.”
Breathe, Aidan. “I know your daddy gave you every single thing you ever asked for, Liz, but you’ll have to learn that you can’t have everything you want. Go home,” I add in a dismissive tone. “Get some sleep.”
“First of all, I haven’t always gotten everything I wanted. Second,” She slides off the desk. “You haven’t given me a good reason why this is a bad idea. You can’t kiss me like that one moment and send me home the next.”
“Can’t I?” I laugh softly, watching as she comes to stand right in front of me. Temptation spikes and I take a deep breath to steady myself. “Liz, what do you want?” I lean my face close to hers. “You want me to strip off your tights and fuck you on my desk? You want me to bury myself inside you, make you come until you’re too weak to stand?”
Her cheeks flush. “Why not?”
“For God’s sake!” I lift her off her feet and head for the door, pulling it open and dumping her just outside. “Go get your beauty sleep, Liz. Tomorrow is a big day for you.”
I close the door in her face.
“You’re an asshole,” I hear her mutter through the thin wood panel separating us.
“I know.” I am an asshole, but hopefully, for the next few weeks, I’ll try my best not to be the asshole that takes what she’s offering, because I know more than anyone that I don’t deserve it.
She’s spectacular.
From the moment Liz steps on the stage, she takes over, glowing with a luminous intensity that captivates me, as well as the preview audience. I can’t take my eyes off her. It pains me to force my attention to the other parts of the play—the other actors, the scenery, the audience reactions, the lines I know by heart—when all I want to do is drown myself in her presence.
After the final applause, I don’t dare go backstage. I’m buzzing with so much electricity from watching her, I know that one look from her eyes, and I will fall down to worship at her feet.
There’s nothing she could ask of me tonight that I wouldn’t give her. If she asked for my soul, I’d probably pull it out and hand it to her.
