I feel like I’ve been chastised by my mother.
“Take five and come back with a different attitude. We don’t have much time to get this piece in shape, and I really believe it could be quite spectacular, as long as you both commit to it.”
I put on my shirt and head outside for a cigarette. I don’t smoke much these days, because Ethan doesn’t like it. Just another way I’m modifying my behavior for my boyfriend.
When I go back in, I put all thoughts of Ethan out of my head and completely commit to the scene. Connor doesn’t know what’s hit him. I can see surprise in his expression when I become Marla. In her skin, I feel guilty for wanting a man other than my husband, but I need to explore the physical attraction to the enigmatic painter.
By the end, we’re both flushed and breathing heavily, and I’m kneeling in front of him and pretending not to notice the bulge in his pants.
Erika seems pleased. “Much better. See you tomorrow.”
She leaves Connor and me to get dressed. It’s awkward between us. Connor’s always been the one person I felt completely comfortable with, but this rehearsal has ruined that. He touched my boobs and got an erection. In my character’s skin, I was aroused by him.
How do we not feel weird about that?
When we exit the theater, Ethan’s waiting. Connor mumbles, “Good night,” and walks off without looking either of us in the eye. I immediately bury my head in Ethan’s chest and hug the hell out of him.
“Hey,” he says as he strokes my hair. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired.”
“Rough day?”
“Yeah. Erika ripped me a new one.”
“Why?”
“Because I was holding back.”
He pauses. “With Connor?”
“Yeah.”
“Uh huh.” He stops stroking. “Did you … not take your shirt off?”
“No, I did, but—”
His jaw muscles tighten against the side of my head. “But what? Did he touch you?”
“Yes.” I can hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest. “But I kept thinking about you. How you’d react. Erika told me I needed to stop.”
“So … what happened?”
I pull back so I can look up at him. Predictably, he’s frowning. “I tried harder.”
His frown deepens. “And?”
“And … uh…” I recall the breath-stealing tingles as Connor palmed my breasts. His bulge, right in my face as I pretended to fellate him. “I think by the end it was working okay.”
He deflates, and the look on his face almost breaks my heart.
I stretch up to kiss him. I need to kiss him. Remind him he’s the one I want. Remind myself it was my character getting turned on by another man during a scene, not me.
He kisses me back. Wraps his hands in my hair and moves my head to where he wants it. Lights me up more completely in three seconds than Connor did all night.
“Take me home,” I say as my whole body flushes.
He does. And an hour later, when I’m sweaty and boneless beneath him, I tell him I love him for the first time since we got back together.
I say it because I mean it. Not because of the guilt.
Mostly.
Dr. Kate pours me a glass of water. I take it gratefully. At least it’s something to do with my hands.
“Do you think you may have been overcompensating for what you were doing with Connor?” Dr. Kate asks.
“Probably.” I sip more water. “But I didn’t want Ethan to feel like there was some stupid love triangle going on, because there wasn’t.”
Dr. Kate gives me a few seconds, then asks, “Was there ever a time you wanted to justify Ethan’s mistrust?”
I nearly choke on my reply, but these sessions are nothing without honesty.
“No, but…”
She waits for more.
“I often wondered how different everything would have been if I could have loved Connor. He was so uncomplicated. But I couldn’t do it. Not even after I thought I’d never see Ethan again.”
“So there wasn’t even a hint of anything when you and Ethan were still together?”
I shake my head. “As much as I had to be attracted to Connor onstage, I never wanted to continue things offstage.”
“You told him that?”
“Connor and I never spoke about it, but I could tell he knew. As for Ethan, I told him over and over again that he had nothing to be concerned about.”
I’d said it so much, the words began to feel like acid on my tongue.
“But he didn’t believe you.”
Bitterness bleeds through my skin like a rash.
“No.”
Windscreen wipers thud from side to side as Ethan’s number flashes on my screen.
“Hi.” I’m exhausted but happy to talk to him. We haven’t seen each other much this week, and I’m craving him. The Senior Showcase is in four days, and we’ve been rehearsing around the clock. We’ve only had to rehearse the Romeo and Juliet scene a couple of times, because, clearly, we rock. Erika has been concentrating more on the new scenes, determined to get them perfect.
“Hey,” he says, sounding just as tired as I am. “Where are you?”