‘And howdoyou feel about me?’ Oscar’s lips twitched into a subtle smile, any trace of concern forgotten and replaced with mischief.
‘I feel annoyed by you,’ she said, swallowing what she actually wanted to say. ‘I’ve made it clear how I feel.It’s you that insists we meet in secret.’
‘You know I like you but… It wasn’t all that long ago that I broke up with Zadie. Very publicly, too. Being seen out and about with you could be disastrous for everyone. I can’t do that to you.’
‘Or her…’ Olive muttered.
‘Oryou. Don’t believe everything you read in those magazines, Olive.’ Oscar brushed his hair back with both ofhis hands and his chest heaved underneath Olive’s fingertips as he let out a heavy sigh.
‘I’m aware of the situation, Oz. It’s just… frustrating.’
‘Then, like I said, maybe we should stop. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Or make you feel like you’re getting anything less than you deserve.’ Oscar tried to pull away again, but Olive held his strong arms in her slim fingersand he stopped resisting.
‘Then don’t hurt me,’ she said.
‘Is it that simple?’ Oscar took her face in his hands and the eyes he saw staring back already looked fragile. ‘I’d rather have this than nothing at all. I don’t think I could see you every day knowing what we once had and not having it any more.’ Oscar moved a strand of her hair away from her eyes and held her cheek in hispalm.
‘As long as this is what you want?’ Olive asked. She didn’t realise she’d been holding her breath until he said, ‘Of course it is.’
He kissed her then and Olive hated herself for feeling lucky. Of all the things she thought she could feel when someone’s lips were pressed against hers, she suspected lucky was probably one of the worst. Inwardly, she berated herself as Oscar’steeth gently pulled at her bottom lip and she let her body lean against him for fear of her legs giving way beneath her. She wasn’t starstruck by Oscar, and nor did the novelty of having a fling with a celebrity appeal to her. She hadn’t put him on a pedestal and nor did she think he was a perfect god-like creature incapable of making mistakes. Olive had simply fallen for a good-looking man whowas kind, funny and, self-admittedly, a little lost.
Olive had never been lucky in love. She’d had a handful of romances with fellow actors, but they’d all eventually ended due to commitment issues or worse, affairs with chorus girls in dingy corners of theatres much like the one she was now standing in herself. The chances of this time being any different were slim (she knew that, buthe just felt sogood) and so waiting for something to go wrong made Olive defensive and doubt if spending time with Oscar was worth it at all. Olive gently pushed herself away from his embrace when she felt the familiar urge to be closer to him start to pulse through her body.
‘Everything okay?’ he whispered, a strand of black hair falling over his left eye, and Olive hated how he couldmake unkempt look so suave.
‘Yeah. Just…enjoyingyou.’ She smiled, her slightly crooked front teeth showing, and Oscar smiled back.
‘I’m enjoying you too.’ Oscar rubbed his nose against hers and held her tighter.
Olive Green was what people described as a ‘gem’. She was always where you needed her to be and perfectly on time. A million secrets from a million different cornersof the West End buzzed around her head and when they were inevitably discovered, as is the nature of the loose-lipped theatre industry, you could guarantee it was not Olive’s lips that had come loose. Olive was the person you asked when you wanted something done. When it came to staying late after rehearsals to discuss a scene further, of course Olive would stay. In fact, when it came to prettymuch anything, Olive would very rarely be able to say no. Whether it was a need to be liked, a fear of being disliked or just a love of helping people out when they needed her, Olive ran herself ragged for everyone, and yet always found herself alone at the end of the day.
When she’d first burst, fresh out of drama school, straight into a leading role as her peers and tutors had expected,she’d been unnervingly trusting. Behind the West End’s curtains were, of course, some of the world’s most beautiful humans, inside and out. However, lurking in plain sight were those who favoured fame, power and money over a love of telling stories and who would do almost anything to reach their end goal. It quickly became apparent that Olive wasn’t good at spotting the bad apples and would alwaysbe willing to help out those who would never return the favour.
After the end of year party for the cast ofOklahoma!, which Olive had organised whilst also performing eight shows a weekandrehearsing for her next acting job during the day, she’d finally broken down and found a corner of the club to have a little cry. It was there that the oldest and most sober cast member had found her,weeping.
‘Don’t set yourself on fire to keep others warm, dearie,’ she’d said, and it was advice Olive had carried with her ever since, although she still had trouble following it. She looked at Oscar and she could already feel the flames around her feet from where she’d willingly thrown down a match because she thought she’d seen him shiver. Olive, who had already been badly burned herself,wasn’t very good at guarding her heart, although she certainly wasn’t naive. She was merely good at throwing caution to the wind and listening to her heart rather than her head, even when she knew there was a rather large possibility of getting hurt. Olive chased the feeling of being romanced and loved, and even if she only felt it for a day, she thought it was worth the scars she’d be leftwith. Despite her devil-may-care attitude, Olive alwayshopedthings would work out for the best in each of her romantic endeavours. Actors seemed to be an untrustworthy kind and although she knew it was her choice of man and her choice to open herself up to potential hurt, it didn’t make the hurt any less painful when she caught that man kissing someone else in the darkened corners of the theatreor heard from her cast mates that he’d been seen outside of the theatre seemingly loved-up with someone else. Olive had started to wonder whether it was her but when she had those thoughts she reminded herself that no one was forced to cheat or treat people without respect. Sadly, Olive just hadn’t been lucky and she hoped with all her heart that this time, maybe this time, she would be.
‘Eggs Florentine?’ asked the waitress.
‘That’s me.’ Olive half raised her hand. The Southern Cross had a little café front of house in which Olive and Oscar often had breakfast and lunch (and sometimes evendinner). The theatre was the one place they felt it was justified they could be seen together without raising suspicion. They were playing opposite each other as onstage lovers, so why wouldn’t they spend time together when offstage?
‘And the Full English is yours, I assume?’ the waitress said with a giggle.
‘Yes, thanks,’ said Oscar, smiling at Olive, but Olive could only look atthe waitress. She had tousled brown curls held loosely by pins at the back of her head, and a full face of simple, understated yet flawless make-up. The smell of her floral perfume wafted over the table as she walked away with a wink in Oscar’s direction. He didn’t notice.
‘What?’ Oscar asked, seeing Olive grasp her fork a little too tightly.
‘Hmm? Nothing! Nothing,’ she said, cuttinginto the poached egg, the runny yolk oozing over the spinach.
‘I hate it when you do that,’ he said, lightly grazing the tip of his shoe against her leg.
‘I’m not doing anything! Honestly, it’s nothing. I just…’ Olive dipped the prongs of her fork in the bright orange goo and drizzled it in patterns around the edge of her white plate.
‘You just…?’ He pressed her leg againa little harder.
‘I just sometimes wonder if you’d rather be sat here with someone else,’ she said into her lap, fiddling with the crumpled hem of her dress.
‘Who?’ Oscar looked around the almost empty café. An elderly man sat in the corner reading a newspaper and wiping tomato ketchup from the corner of his mouth on the sleeve of his coat. ‘Him?’
