“Fuck.” He makes a long, plaintive noise that’s the perfect accompaniment to my own sounds.
Pleasure is thick in my veins as he breathes against me, shallow gasps and long moans.
Oh.
Ohhhh.
That was …
Wow.
Reality filters back in as the last shudders fade inside me. Holt and I are panting, sweaty, and spent.
“Okay,” Erika says with a slight edge to her voice. “Well, that was certainly a … committed performance. But I think we either need to work on the orgasms or fade to black before they happen. They were a little clichéd.”
The bed rattles as we both suppress our laughter.
Two hours later, Holt and I emerge from the theater, and I’m laughing like an idiot as he does Romeo’s lines in the style of Marlon Brando from The Godfather. For once, there’s no bickering. Orgasmic rehearsals obviously suit us.
Near the end of the hallway, a group of third-year students are clustered together, practicing in commedia dell’arte masks and cracking each other up. We’re almost past them when one of them says, “Well, well, well. Ethan Holt.”
The whole group goes silent as Holt and I stop. When a pretty brunette removes her mask and emerges from the group, I don’t miss how tense Holt’s posture becomes.
She fixes him with an aggressive stare. “You look good, Ethan.”
His jaw clenches. “You, too.”
“I heard you finally got in. Did Erica make you get a psych evaluation to get over the line? Or did she just get tired of auditioning you year after year?”
He shakes his head and gives her a wry smile. “You’d have to ask her.”
“Maybe I will. I heard she’d cast you as Romeo. What a joke. It’s like she doesn’t know you at all.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “It wasn’t my preference, believe me.”
“I bet. First Romeo who’s ever been played by a heartless bastard.”
Someone murmurs, “Ooh, burn!” and although I expect Holt to fire up and fight back, he just drops his head and sighs.
“Nice to see you again, Olivia,” he says before turning to me. “Gotta go, Taylor. See you tomorrow.”
He strides away, and the girl directs her attention to me. “So you’re his new Juliet, huh? Has he ruined you yet?”
“I … ah…”
She leans in. “Run while you still can. Trust me on this. You do not want to be around when that boy self-destructs. He’ll just take you with him, and the damage he’ll do will fuck you up forever. Just ask my therapist. And my sponsor.”
The conviction of her tone makes goose bumps break out on my arms.
She and her friends walk away, and I’m left wondering what the hell Ethan did to her to make her so bitter.
TEN
CONNECTION
Present Day
New York City
Graumann Theater Rehearsal Room
I pack up my bag as I watch Holt out of the corner of my eye.
He’s nervous and keeps glancing over like he thinks I’m going to walk out and leave him behind.
That would be nice, but my brain is telling me we need go somewhere, so he can explain and I can rage. Then maybe we can break each other down and see if our pieces fit together anymore. But my heart is cowering like a dog that’s been beaten too many times.
What’s been happening between us the last few days scares the hell out of me. The connection I’ve tried to forget for three years is back, just as strong as it ever was, with barely any effort.
Even now, as I watch him shrug on his jacket and shove his script into his bag, the giant magnetic pull that always drew me to him is there, demanding I move closer.
I hate the familiar compulsion.
“Cassandra?”
I turn to see Marco, script in hand, with his hat perched on his head at what can only be described as a “jaunty angle.”
“Is everything okay?” he asks as he throws a glance at Holt, who is now conspicuously hovering on the other side of the room. “You and Ethan seemed out of sorts during the sex scene today. Should I be concerned?”
He’s been counting on our natural chemistry to smooth over the divots and potholes of our past. But unless Holt and I unload some of our baggage, the chemistry isn’t going to be enough. This whole journey will come to a screeching halt, and our impossible desire for each other will just be a dot in the rearview mirror.
“We’re figuring things out,” I say with as much sincerity as I can muster. “It’s complicated.”
He nods and looks at Holt again. “I’m can see that. But make no mistake, regardless of your issues, my first priority is the play.”
“I understand.”
“When Mr. Holt begged me for this role, I knew I was taking a risk on your torrid past. However, I trusted that you could put your differences aside for the sake of the show. If that’s not the case, tell me now, and I’ll have him recast.”
My stomach drops. “Wait, what? Holt begged for this show?”
Marco sighs. “Yes. After I’d decided I wanted you, I’d had discussions with another actor. A very talented unknown. But out of the blue, Mr. Holt called me and campaigned for the role. Of course, I knew his horde of rabid fans would practically ensure a box office hit, and physically, he was perfect, but I’d heard rumors about what he did to you and was skeptical it could work. He called me three times a day, every day, for two weeks. He reminded me about my reaction to seeing you both in Romeo and Juliet at The Grove. He was quite annoying. But his passion is what finally made me relent. The way he spoke about you … I couldn’t ignore that.”