Chapter 14 #2
‘“What are you saying?”’ I slide a little closer.
I feel the fear in my belly. I’m Juliet and the love of my life is going to leave me because our story is star-crossed.
There’s no way out. ‘“You can’t mean that. Don’t you believe in our love?
That it’s stronger than hate? Than our families’ senseless feud?
Run away and come back once the dust has settled.
I must believe that and so you will too. ”’
‘“Juliet, it’s no good,”’ he whispers. ‘“It’s getting light outside. I have to go.”’
‘“Promise me that we’ll meet again.”’
Sinclair nods without a second’s hesitation. ‘“This is not farewell for ever, I give you my word.”’
His eyes are full of pain and longing. I feel like I’m drowning in them.
‘And then you have to kiss her,’ I say, as I remember the script and hastily look away. ‘OK, fine. So, where shall we pick it up again?’
‘Right here.’ His voice is hoarse. He looks at me as I raise my head.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, and before I can blink, he’s beside me. His mouth is on mine and everything goes up in flames.
Years of my life in which I’ve tried not to want him, gone in a split second.
Sinclair’s lips are just the way I remember them.
Warm and soft. Gentle and skilful, but demanding too this time.
Just like his hands, holding me. He puts a hand on the back of my neck, I lean in.
Heat burns through me as he pulls me between his legs and I’m suddenly half lying on him.
I feel the hard stage beneath my knees and his erection against my thigh.
I’m dizzy because it’s all so greedy, and at the same time it feels like the last piece of the puzzle in the whole universe is slipping into place.
I don’t know who I’m kissing. Romeo or Sinclair. Sinclair or Charlie. The boy I fell in love with in the juniors, or the man who’s been driving me insane for weeks. Either way, it’s better than anything. Better than I ever imagined.
He smells the same. Of milk and honey and something tangy that’s making me lose my mind.
His hands run over my trembling body, and every single reason why this shouldn’t be happening disappears into thin air.
It’s as though we’d kissed a thousand times before, yet everything is intense in a way that only a first kiss can be.
Our lips, which open for each other, his hot tongue in my mouth.
His face under my fingers, that warm, soft skin and his firm body.
Muscles he developed while I was busy trying to kid myself that I wasn’t in love with him.
He stops and looks at me. ‘God . . . Tori.’
His gruff voice sends the heat between my legs.
I kiss him again. He runs his fingers through my hair.
I forget my own name. And where we are. On the stage in our school theatre.
It’s only when the door opens at the back of the auditorium that I remember.
Voices, laughter, Sinclair freezing as I startle and pull back, push away from him.
SINCLAIR
The love story of Romeo and Juliet is totally divorced from reality. For so many reasons.
One: getting married as soon as possible for reasons of social respectability is anything but a desirable life-goal (let alone the road to happiness).
Two: Romeo and Juliet set eyes on one another, want each other and have not the least doubt that they’re meant for each other (so simplistic!).
Three: you can’t just kiss somebody once and expect that to solve all your problems at a stroke.
Tori and I are living proof of that. I spend the whole rehearsal looking uncertainly in her direction and away again the moment she notices. We’re doing method-acting group work and, by now, I almost doubt that it actually happened.
I feel dizzy at the thought of the hard stage under my shoulder blades and Tori’s soft body on top of mine. Her lips: they fit mine as if they were made for each other.
‘Charles! Wake up!’ Mr Acevedo is waving his script in the air. I jump. Apparently, I missed his instructions for the next exercise. The others have already paired up.
‘Shall we?’ Eleanor asks, suddenly appearing at my side.
‘Yeah, sure.’ I watch the others. ‘What are we meant to be doing again?’
Eleanor frowns. ‘Eye contact, and we’re not allowed to break it.’
‘Oh.’ I look at her. ‘OK.’
Just as well I don’t have to do this with Tori. I wouldn’t last more than three seconds before I wanted to take her face in my hands again.
Eleanor’s eyes are brown. Not as pale as Tori’s. They’re more like molten chocolate.
‘Are you OK?’ she asks.
Damn.
‘Don’t look away, Sinclair.’ She smiles but her eyes remain serious. Why is this so bloody hard?
‘Sorry.’ I tense my shoulders. Can you tell what Tori and I were doing just by looking at me? My lips are still throbbing when I remember our kiss. And so’s my crotch, by the way. ‘And, yeah, sure, are we meant to be discussing anything in particular?’
‘Just talking about our week,’ says Eleanor, head aslant. I want to seek out Tori. I want to look at her. Until I find answers in her eyes as to what just happened between us. And what it means. ‘So, how was your week?’
‘Great,’ I lie. ‘How was yours?’
‘Stressful. Didn’t get anything done and I’m exhausted.’
‘You don’t look it.’
Tiny lines shape Eleanor’s face as she smiles. ‘Whoa, you’re such a liar.’
‘It was the truth, I promise.’ That might be the first true thing I’ve said today.
Eleanor’s glowing – she’s positively radiant.
Is that because she’s in love? I want Tori to look at me like that.
For my sake. And she won’t. Which is my fault.
And because Valentine Ward is a weapon and I don’t even want to think about what would happen if he heard that we kissed.
Which he’s bound to do eventually. Isn’t he?
Or is Tori planning to act like it never happened? I start to sweat.
‘Spit it out,’ Eleanor says. ‘What’s wrong? I can see something’s wrong, Sinclair. Don’t look away.’
‘Tori and I . . .’ I lower my voice so that nobody around can hear. ‘We were going through my lines just now. A kiss scene. We rehearsed it very thoroughly.’
‘I see.’ Eleanor’s eyes sparkle. ‘Very thoroughly, uh-huh.’
‘And now I’m freaking out.’
‘Why are you freaking out?’
‘Because we didn’t get to talk about it. People walked in.’
‘Who kissed who?’ Eleanor blinks innocently.
‘I think that was me.’
She smiles. ‘Wow. I’m proud of you, Sinclair.’
‘But maybe she wasn’t OK with it.’
‘Did you ask her?’
‘No.’ I shiver. ‘Not really.’
‘Did she pull away?’
‘Not really.’
‘Interesting, in-ter-est-ing.’
‘Very good, well done!’ Mr Acevedo calls. ‘That will do.’
I immediately look to the side. Tori’s watching Eleanor and me. Her face is expressionless. She looks away before I can read anything in her face.
‘How did it feel? Louis?’
I can’t listen. It’s torture, not being able to speak to Tori. I can barely keep my mind on the stage the whole rest of the time. We’re rehearsing an early scene, one with Mercutio, Benvolio and Romeo. I’m rubbish. I can feel it.
‘Stop.’ Mr Acevedo interrupts the scene. My heart sinks to my boots. Louis and Gideon look enquiringly at me. Mr Acevedo studies us. ‘May I ask where the problem is?’
‘Which problem?’ asks Louis.
‘Yes, which problem . . . Which problem? Let’s ask our Romeo.’
All eyes are on me and I want to die.
‘Charles, please. What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, I . . .’ My voice fails, and someone laughs. I kissed Tori and now she won’t look at me. That’s what’s wrong. ‘Wasn’t it any good?’
‘Wasn’t it any good?’ Mr Acevedo repeats. ‘Did it feel like it was good?’
I don’t reply. ‘No,’ I say in the end.
‘Well, there’s a thing.’ Mr Acevedo looks around the group. ‘So, make a note of that. If something doesn’t feel good, it’s very probable that it isn’t good.’
The others start talking. Mr Acevedo keeps looking at me.
‘I’m sorry. Shall I start again?’
He doesn’t react. What does he want? Am I meant to read his mind? I notice that I’m getting angry. Helpless, angry and overwhelmed. The others are whispering, heads together.
Mr Acevedo waves at the stage. ‘Please.’
What, then? Why’s he being so weird?
I exchange glances with Louis and Gideon, who are looking about as confused as I feel.
I step a few paces to one side and take up my starting position.
The others begin their dialogue, which is lively and engaging.
The role of Benvolio seems tailor-made for Gideon.
I make the mistake of looking to the side.
Down to where Grace and the others are watching the scene intently.
It’s only Tori who isn’t focused on Gideon and Louis. She’s watching me.
She chews her bottom lip gently and she has no idea how wild that drives me. Her lips are as red as her cheeks. I can feel her warm skin under my fingers and her soft mouth.
‘Charles!’
It makes me jump.
Fuck.
Louis and Gideon are looking expectantly at me, not speaking, which must mean that I’ve missed my cue.
‘OK, good.’ Mr Acevedo turns around. ‘We’re done for the day. You can pack up.’ There’s silence, followed by a murmur of voices. ‘Not you, though, Charles.’
Louis and Gideon are looking sympathetic as they leave the stage. Mr Acevedo beckons me down. Tori’s left.
‘I can make you replay the scene three times to try to get you up to your normal standards, or you can just tell me what’s wrong,’ says Mr Acevedo, as soon as we’re alone. ‘So, what’s wrong?’
‘It’s nothing.’ I clear my throat. ‘It’s been a long day. I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep.’
Mr Acevedo eyes me intently. ‘Well, do you honestly want me to advise you to go to bed in better time, or would you prefer to stop making this like getting blood out of a stone?’
Silence.
‘Does it have to do with anyone in this theatre?’
Stubborn silence.
‘If so, I would advise you to take a leaf out of Romeo’s book.’
‘From what I heard, things didn’t work out too well for him,’ I mumble.
Mr Acevedo smiles. ‘Well, at least you’ve still got a sense of humour. And the option to do better than he did.’
‘If only it was that easy.’ I look over to the door. Maybe Tori’s waiting for me.
‘I believe in you, Charles. Truly. Off with you, now. I get the impression you need to talk to somebody.’
I beat it.
I walk up the steps, open the door.
The corridor outside the theatre is deserted. Or so I think. Then I see them, at the end of the hallway, just turning a corner. Tori and Valentine. Hand in hand.
I stop. My body goes numb, and I get the hell out of there.