Broken Juliet (27 page)

He closes the script and drops his head. “Fuck me.”

He’s not angry anymore. Just … resigned.

I want so badly to reassure him, but I know that if the situation was reversed, there isn’t much anyone could say to make me feel better. Instead I kiss his cheek, his brows, his forehead, then his lips. He pulls me into his lap and hugs me, and when our chests press together, I can feel the too-fast rhythm of fear in his heartbeat.

“Do you want me to tell Erika I can’t do it?” I ask as I stroke his hair.

He squeezes me tighter and presses his forehead against my heart. “No. The script is amazing. It’s a great role for you. Awesome role for Connor as well. That’s why Erika chose it. I just … I hate thinking of him touching you. Jesus, watching you pretend to blow him is probably going to kill me.”

He leans back and closes his eyes. When I touch his face, it’s hot. I can see he’s trying to defuse his emotions, but it’s not something that’s easily done.

“I wish Erika had cast you instead of Connor.”

He opens his eyes and runs his fingertips over my lips. “Me too.”

That night, when we make love, he’s different. Rougher. Like he’s trying to fuck the thought of Connor and me out of his brain. Afterward, he doesn’t talk. Just holds me.

The next morning, he seems calmer about it all, but I don’t miss the haunted look in his eyes. He looks like someone who’s foreseen a terrible tragedy and doesn’t know how to stop it.

I take in a shaky breath.

“Cassie…?” Dr. Kate’s voice is quiet.

“It’s natural for you to get emotional about these memories. That’s the purpose of these sessions. To expose the triggers for your anger and try to confront them. Letting the emotion out so we can deal with it is part of the process.”

“I just don’t see how he could have ruined us twice. Once I could have almost forgiven, but the second time? Why did he even bother trying again, if he knew he couldn’t do it?”

She gives me a sympathetic nod. “Even the best motivations can be tarnished by hurtful outcomes. Have you ever heard the term ‘unresolved abandonment’?”

I shake my head.

“It manifests in different people in different ways, but is usually self-destructive. For those who suffer from it, it’s frustrating, because they recognize the patterns of fear, anger, and self-sabotage but feel powerless to change them. Sound familiar?”

I nod. “Yes.” Not just regarding Ethan, either. I’ve been feeling that way for years.

“Some try to self-medicate with drugs, alcohol, sex, food, shopping, or gambling.”

Ethan used to drink heavily. I lost myself in meaningless sex.

Dr. Kate sits forward a little. “People in these types of cycles think that if they change how they react outwardly, their inner processes might follow suit.”

“Like wearing a mask,” I say quietly.

“Yes. Exactly like wearing a mask.”

I clench my jaw against rising emotion. “Ethan failed our mask assessment. He had to do extra credit to make up for it.”

She pauses. “How successful was he in masking his emotions with you?”

“When I first started working with Connor, Ethan tried to be cool about it. In fact, I think I was more uptight than he was.”

“Why do you think that was?”

“Because…” I pick at my fingernails and answer in a near whisper. “I didn’t want to give him an excuse to break up with me again.”

I don’t look at Dr. Kate, but I can feel her staring at me.

“Cassie, your behavior is nothing to be ashamed of. You were scared of being hurt again. Clearly, Ethan wasn’t the only one affected by abandonment. You’re here because you’re still being affected by it.”

I nod. At the time, I had no idea why I was so emotionally bipolar. All I knew was that I was being pulled in so many different directions, I was afraid of moving at all.

I’m supposed to be confident as I take off my shirt, but I’m not. I’m even less confident as I remove my bra. I’m wearing skin-tone stickers over my nipples, but they don’t make me feel any less naked. I’m supposed to look Connor in the eye, but I can’t. It’s Connor. My friend Connor. My friend who’s now standing in front of me, staring at my chest and breathing too fast.

“Watch your posture, Cassie,” Erika says. “You’re a life model. You’d be used to being seen half naked.”

I straighten my back. Connor says his lines, and then he touches me. Gentle hands. He runs his fingers up my sides, over my rib cage. He pauses before touching my breasts. I look up at him. He almost seems apologetic as he puts his hands on me and squeezes gently.

“Good, now Cassie, you transform into his fantasy: the Marla who wants him as much as he wants her.”

I try. I really do. I feign confidence as I unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. Then I put my hand on his chest and trace the planes of his muscles. He inhales and watches as his fingers flex at his sides, waiting for my curiosity to escalate into full-blown lust.

His chest is different from Ethan’s. More hair. Slightly narrower. Still very nice. Just not
him
.

“Okay, stop.”

I drop my arms and sigh. Connor steps back and rubs his eyes. I’m sucking like a Hoover, and he knows it. We all know it.

Erika drops her notebook and comes onto the stage. I pick up my shirt and cover myself.

“Cassie, what’s going through your mind when you touch him? Because I’m guessing it’s not how much you want to sleep with him.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to…”

I glance at Connor. He’s trying so hard to make this work, but I keep blocking him. At this rate, our scene is going to be the blandest obsessive love story ever told.

“Mr. Bain, take a break. I’d like to work with Miss Taylor for a while.”

“Yeah, sure.” Connor gives me a sympathetic smile, then pulls on his shirt and heads to the exit.

I tense up as Erika studies me and crosses her arms.

“What’s going on with you? I know you’re capable of having chemistry with Connor. I’ve seen it, especially in the scenes from
Streetcar
last year. That’s why I cast you together in this. Why are you holding back? Is it the nudity?”

I shake my head.

“Then what?”

How can I tell her that if I fully commit to the scene, I’m worried how my boyfriend will react? It’s the world’s weakest excuse.

She frowns when I don’t respond. She knows Ethan and me well enough by now to read between the lines.

“Cassie, you can’t let your offstage relationship affect your performance. They’re two different lives. Mr. Holt is an actor. He should understand that.”

“He does, and he’s being really supportive, but … it’s going to be hard for him to watch, you know?”

“Then perhaps he shouldn’t. For this showcase, you all need to be at your best. You should sideline anything that could hold you back or distract you.”

“I can’t ban him from watching.”

“No, but you can suggest that it’s not in his best interest. The last thing either of you needs right now is drama in your private lives. Keep it onstage. Am I clear?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Good. Are you ready to rehearse now?”

“Yes.”

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?”

“On my way home.”

“Our rehearsal is almost done, too. I think Avery and I are finally getting the rhythm of this freaking Stoppard dialog. Not that we can hear much with this storm going on. This rain is crazy, huh?”

“Yeah. Hope your ark-building skills are decent, or we could be in trouble.”

“We don’t need an ark. I have some inflatable pool lounges. They have cup holders.”

“Fancy.”

“No expense spared to save my woman from the watery apocalypse.”

“Nothing says ‘I love you’ more than quality recreational inflatables.”

He makes a noise. “Now I have visions of that inflatable sheep Avery bought for his pool.”

“We said we’d never discuss that.”

“You’re right. Can we talk about how much I fucking miss you?”

I smile. “Can you hold that thought? We’re just pulling up outside my apartment. I need to make a mad dash for the door.”

“We?”

“Yeah, um…” I take a deep breath. “Connor drove me home, so I wouldn’t get drenched.”