He leans against the piano, eyes on Chloe. They’re not speaking, but they act with their body language, and I’m instantly captivated watching the heated looks passing between them. It takes a moment before Chloe glides toward him, stopping so close their shoes almost touch.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” she says, holding her hand at an angle that suggests she holds a glass of wine.
“You weren’t paying attention,” he shoots back, seemingly disinterested, his voice like hot tar.
He looks over her shoulder as if he’s waiting for someone and she’s an annoying distraction, but then his eyes cruise down her body in a purposeful once-over.
Even though I’m not on the receiving end of that scorching gaze, my cheeks heat.
With a subtle shift of her posture, Chloe leans toward him. “Do you always watch people like they owe you something?”
A slow, deliberate smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes curves his lips. “Only when they do,” he retorts, his deep voice oscillating through the air.
He steps closer, diminishing what little space is left between them, his gaze not veering from hers.
I swallow hard. How Chloe’s still standing instead of pooling at his feet is beyond me. My stomach ties into knots at the electric tension crackling around them.
It’s a blessing that I’m not in her shoes right now. I’d be trembling like a kitten if he stood this close, towering above me.
She watches, almost breathless, as he lifts his hand to gently brush a stray lock of hair from her face. The gesture is tender, yet there’s a clear possessiveness that make my toes curl in my sneakers.
Chloe lets out a soft, almost inaudible gasp and I’d be willing to bet good money that wasn’tacting.
“I don’t owe you anything,” she whispers.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He leans in, grazing his knuckles from where he tucked her hair behind her ear all the way down to her hip. “You owe me a dance.”
The air thickens with anticipation, everyone in the room holding their breath, including me. I lean forward, waiting for Chloe’s line, my own script long forgotten.
“And cut!” Angela booms, rising to her feet and igniting a wave of disappointment in me. “That’s exactly the chemistry I’m looking for.”
The class starts clapping and I put my hands together, too, watching them stride off the stage, unaware of the impact they made.
“Hailey.” Jensen nudges my shoulder. “C’mon, we’re up.”
He stands, offering his hand to help me. I don’t take it, but my heart pounds in my chest, matching my throbbing shoulder as we step onto the stage.
How the hell are we supposed to follow Chloe and... whatever his name is? Our scene will break all of that delicious sexual tension.
Without much warning, Jensen starts, screaming the line at me with everything he’s got. “We can’t just ignore it, Emma!”
I take a second to get my head in the game. Staring into Jensen’s eyes I dive into the scene, summoning the grief I’ve stifled thus far and, at a snap of fingers, the air between us grows tense.
My response leaps out of my core, my anger matching his then knocking it out of the park.
It’s real, this anger.
Real and powerful because his words hit a nerve.
I’m taking this shit personally after obstinately pushing the memory of my mom out of my mind all week.
“So what do you suggest? You expect me to cry, scream, and curse fate? Is that it?”
“No,” he snaps back, stepping closer, his fury ringing true and fueling mine. “No, but...fuck!” Thatfuckisn’t in the script but it works. “We lost our son and you... you act like nothing happened! You need to grieve! Ignoring it...” He meets my eyes, stumbling over his words. That wasn’t in the script, either. I think he’s taken aback by my streaming tears. “Ignoring it won’t bring him back.”
“I know he’s not coming back!” I shout, shaking all over, my eyes burning as the tears wet my eyelashes. “It hurts, okay?! It hurts so much!” The dam bursts, every next line no longer a scene... It’s an avenue, an outlet for my pent-up emotions.
I’m poised on the edge of a knife, so confused I feel sick. Reality blurs with the past. There’s something familiar about this dialogue, like I’ve lived through it, but can’t place it.
