Broken Juliet(72)

“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.”