Chapter 25
JOHN
Rehearsal drags on as I sit in the back of the theatre and try not to stare at Emma.
As the faculty advisor I have very few responsibilities.
I mainly have to make sure the theatre is cleared and locked each night after rehearsal.
I could sit in my office and just lock up after they finish since Mackenzie has everything under control, but I’m a glutton for punishment, so here I am staring at the woman I wish I could be with.
Being in her presence lately is starting to feel like too much of a good thing and not enough at the same time.
Commotion on the stage pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. Emma drops to the floor hard, her knees pulled against her body as she rocks slightly. The fuck?
I’m out of my chair and on the stage in seconds.
“I’m sorry, Emma. I was acting on instinct. It felt natural to grab your shoulders. I didn’t mean to freak you out,” Jeremy says.
“What’s going on?” I demand, giving Jeremy a death glare.
“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” Emma chimes in, looking up at me.
I look at Jeremy and Mackenzie and am met with silence.
“Somebody better start talking,” I grit through clenched teeth.
“I said I’m fine,” Emma repeats as she stands and brushes off her backside.
“We can just call it a day,” Mackenzie chirps as she claps her hands and backs away. “We’ll pick up with this scene tomorrow.”
“Miss Black, can I speak with you?”
Her eyes snap to mine, her brows are furrowed, and her shoulders are nearly at her ears. “Fine.”
I wait until Mackenzie and Jeremy are nearly out of the theatre before I speak. “Tell me what’s going on.” It comes out like less of a demand and more of a plea.
She blows out a breath, and I’m fully prepared for her wrath, but her voice is low when she speaks. “Let’s just say that physical touch isn’t my love language.”
My eyebrow lifts as I wait for her to continue.
“My father was abusive, and I think my body associates touch with him.”
It’s more than I expected her to admit, especially to me.
“I have to feel really safe and trust someone before I’m comfortable with them touching me,” she admits.
“Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“I didn’t want to,” she adds quickly. “But I figured it would make this rehearsal process easier if you knew.”
Everything in me yearns to wrap her in my arms but I refrain. “I’m curious about something.”
“What?”
“At the beginning of the school year last year, you let me help you up. Is it because I asked before touching you?”
She thinks for a second before shrugging.
“Have you figured out anything else that helps?” I ask.
Her cheeks pinken and my cock perks up knowing she’s probably thinking about our time at the club.
“Actually, don’t answer that. It’s none of my business. Can I try something, though?”
There’s a curious look on her face as I jog out into the house to grab her parka. “Can you put this on?” I ask, handing her the coat.
“Okay,” she says, drawing out the word.
“I thought that maybe if you were wearing more layers, someone could touch you without you flinching. With your permission of course.”
She pulls on the coat, pulling the fur lined hood over her face as I move behind her.
“Can I touch your shoulders, Miss Black?”
“Only my shoulders, though, right?”
“Only your shoulders,” I assure her as I run one finger across her shoulder from right to left. “How was that?”
“I barely felt anything.”
“Can I apply more pressure and use my whole hand this time?”
“Sure,” she says on a big exhale.
Placing my palm on her left shoulder, I glide my hand as I walk around her body.
Once I’m in front of her, I rest my palm on her right shoulder and grip the other one with my left, mimicking Jeremy’s earlier movement.
We stand there, me gripping her, as she stands stock-still, her head dropped, hidden in her hood as her chest heaves with each labored breath she takes.
“Is this okay?” I ask gently.
When she looks up at me, her eyes are filled with tears as one tracks down her cheek. She wipes at it quickly.
“See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand that I might touch that cheek!” My exaggerated voice is full of mirth as I crack a joke to ease the tension.
The giggle that escapes her sets my heart back to its normal rhythm.
“You did it. I truly believe you’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. A pillar of strength. That’s why I pushed you so hard last year. Now look at you. You’ll figure this out.”
“And apparently all it takes is a heavy parka,” she says with humor as she looks up at me, her eyes stopping on my lips, before traveling up to my eyes.
I stand there, a blinking idiot, unsure where to look as I take in the delicate features of her face.
Her big brown eyes, surrounded by hundreds of long lashes that flutter rapidly under my scrutiny.
Her high cheekbones, makeup-free, yet covered in the lightest of blushes.
Her plump, round, kissable lips I’ve never touched, yet am dying to taste.
There’s a voice in my head telling me to slide my hands down to her waist, pull her into me, and kiss her. Telling me to take what I want. Her eyes flick to my lips again, and that voice yells at me to give in to what I want, what we both want.
A door clicks closed in the back of the theatre, but when I turn in that direction, I don’t see anyone. Taking a step back from her, the look of disappointment on her face nearly breaks me. It’s like the universe is reminding me once again to keep my distance from her.
——————
Emma
The next morning there’s another letter taped to my door when I leave the apartment. I look around and don’t see anyone else outside. My roommate is hardly ever around. It could be for her, but it’s unlikely. I open the envelope and unfold the paper.
My love—
I cannot fix on the hour or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.
We will be reunited soon, my love. Have patience and be safe.
Always Yours
I instantly recognize the first part from Pride and Prejudice.
It has the same handwriting as the other letters I received and was taped to my door the same way, but this one was in an envelope, and not all of them have been.
Since I’m cutting it close on time, I can’t investigate further, so I head over to the walking trail and make my way to campus.
I read the letter a few more times when a voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“Hey, Emma!”
When I look up, Jeremy is walking toward me, and I offer him a polite smile. “Hey, I’m gonna be late for class,” I say, shoving the letter in my pocket and pointing to my watch.
He changes direction and comes up next to me. “I’ll walk you. I just finished a workout, and I’m kind of hungry. Any chance your class is on the way to the caf?”
“Kinda,” I say.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I totally forgot about your touching thing. I should’ve remembered from last year.”
“Oh yeah. It took some time, but we figured it out for that scene. We’ll figure it out for the play.
” Maybe if I say it out loud, I’ll manifest it.
I don’t mention the day that he missed class and I had to act my scene with Professor A-hole.
He was able to grab my hand without all the rehearsal, and I still can’t figure out why that didn’t bother me.
“Was Professor Ali a dick about it when we left?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Actually, he kind of helped me. I told him about my issue, and he gave me some tips that might help.”
We walk in silence for a bit, and my mind keeps replaying the moment on stage when Professor A-hole held my shoulders and told me I was strong.
“I truly believe you’re so much stronger that you give yourself credit for. A pillar of strength.”
There’s something familiar about that phrase “a pillar of strength,” but I can’t recall where I might have heard it.
“See you at rehearsal!” Jeremy calls as we part ways.
I shove my hands in my pockets, determined not to think about that moment on stage with Professor Ali.
The moment when he looked at my lips like he wanted to devour them.
Did I imagine that? I must have—there is no way my hot but uptight teacher would ever break the rules for someone he finds as infuriating as me.
Classes drag by slowly as I try to concentrate on my studies and fail, instead doodling in my notebook with ideas and thoughts about who could be sending me these letters and secretly hoping for the first time that they’re from my professor.