Chapter 15 Stevie
Stevie
I close the door behind us.
The cup of spiked punch joggles in my hand as I watch Lex stroll over to a king-size bed topped with a mulberry quilt and collapse onto the mattress with a worn-out sigh.
Part of me wishes I wasn’t drinking. I’m not normally a drinker; I prefer stability and clearheadedness over muddled vision and slurred words.
But I knew he was coming, and I knew what I wanted to say to him, and those things didn’t align with a sober mind.
Lex flops backward, his arms stretched above his head, fingers teasing tufts of warm golden hair.
He looks like he just ran a twenty-mile race, then promptly buckled to his knees at the finish line.
I guess that’s what performing feels like.
Nerves and adrenaline coil into a tight knot, only to unravel and implode with profound exhaustion the moment the last note fades away.
He implied something was wrong, and I’m not sure what that meant. But the way he squeezed my hand told me he was comfortable with me, so I allow that confirmation to overpower my anxiety as I step forward and beg my courage to prevail.
My balance is wobbly as I make a sluggish trek toward him, watching his eyes lift to mine. “You came,” I say, but what I really want to ask him is why he came.
He releases another long breath before folding his hands behind his head and staring up at the decorative tray ceiling. “Woo-hoo.”
“I’m really glad you did.” I send him a smile and hope it reaches my glazed eyes. The vodka stirs in my bloodstream, making me feel weightless and brave. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Talk about what?” He glances at the ornate bedspread and picks at the stitching, waiting for me to elaborate.
“The show, I guess. How do you feel about it?”
“You were incredible.”
Elation pinches my heart. “So were you.”
A shrug. “You were better.”
The pinching feeling contracts as I find the courage to sit beside him.
The mattress slumps with the added weight, and I rub my dark matte lips together, debating what to say next.
His scent envelops me the moment we’re an inch apart: citrus, sandalwood, and masculine musk.
I squeeze my thighs together, that kiss funneling through my brain on overdrive.
He kissed me.
He kissed me like I was his, like I was everything, and part of me wants that to be true—to take our relationship to the next level, to experience heart-tingling romance for the first time, just like our characters.
Minus the tragedy, of course.
He’s so different than he was that day in the street, when expensive blue streaked across my vision and wreckage lay sprinkled at our feet. Lex is different now.
We are different.
Looking back at him, I take a few more chugs of my pink punch and let it slide down my throat. There’s a dopey smile on his lips, almost like he’s feeling the utmost contentment lying here on this embellished quilt beside me. “Do you still have the star pendant?” I ask.
His eyes skim over my face. Then he nods and reaches into his pocket. “Yeah.”
I glance at the turquoise swirl in his hand as he holds it up. My Morrison star. A good-luck charm I’ve carried with me for years.
He tries to hand it back to me, but I shake my head. “You can hold on to it for now.”
“You sure?”
Something tells me he needs it more than I do.
Maybe it’s the dark circles under his eyes that are no longer veiled by stage makeup.
Maybe it’s the way he seemed jittery and frazzled just moments ago or how his palm was slick with sweat when I discovered him standing in the living room, looking so out of place. “I’m sure.”
“Well, thanks.” Lex returns it to his pocket before popping up and leaning back on his hands. He peers over at me as I sit like a statue at the edge of the bed, my knees knocking together. “I like it better in here.”
I blink at him, my cheeks flushing. “How so?”
“The quiet,” he says. “The quiet doesn’t sound as loud when you’re around.”
When the statement registers, I chew on my lip and duck my head. The tumbler twirls between my hands as I watch the alcohol slosh against the sides. I take another sip, allowing it to quell my prickling nerves. “I love the quiet. Maybe I’m just used to it…farm life and all.”
“I envy you, Nicks,” he tells me, craning his neck and watching the ceiling fan spin in aimless circles. “Open fields. Vegetable gardens. Cows and shit.”
A smile hints. “Cows and shit?”
“Yeah, Bessie or whatever.”
“Emmy.”
“Sure.” He smirks, then sits up straighter. “I got rid of my leather boots just for her.”
I glance down at his sneakers, and my chest warms.
“I had guilt,” he adds with a shrug. “You’ll tell her for me?”
Instinct has me scooting closer to him on the bed until our thighs kiss. Or maybe it’s the vodka taking over my body. “You can tell her yourself…I mean, if you want to come over sometime. For dinner.”
His expression falters as he straightens. “We’re done rehearsing. You still want to hang?”
“Of course I do. Maybe I can teach you how to play the piano, how to make fresh pasta from scratch, or how to tackle farm chores if you’re up for manual labor.” My heartbeats double as I nudge his shoulder with mine, my courage dangling by a thin wire. “I like spending time with you, Lex.”
I liked kissing you too.
I should tell him that. I should just say it and put it out there, cleanse the room of this nervous energy, own my feelings, and be bold for once. Bold in real life, not just on a stage.
Or…maybe I should show him.
His blue eyes soften like a springtime sky, sparking with a glimmer of vulnerability. Of candidness. His guard is down, and mine is wavering, crumbling to dust and embers as we stare at each other for a drawn-out breath.
I chug back the rest of my punch and discard the cup beside me on the bed before twisting to fully face him. My stomach is in knots, hands shaking, pulse close to detonating. I’m either going to throw up or I’m going to kiss him, but hopefully not at the same time.
Lex sits up all the way, a slight frown marring the space between his eyes. “Stevie—”
I don’t even think it through.
Breath hitching, I lurch forward, take his face between my hands, and press my lips to his.
He freezes instantly. I feel his body go rigid, a hard mass of tension and stunned shock.
But I don’t let it scare me away; he’s surprised, just as I’m surprised, so I wait for him to hold me back, to take me in his arms, to part his lips and kiss me like he did in front of hundreds of people mere hours ago.
But that’s not what happens.
To my horror, Lex staggers away from me, pushing at my shoulders as he untangles himself from my hands and lips.
He gapes at me, face a mask of disbelief and confusion. “What the hell, Nicks?”
I stare back at him.
Speechless. Humiliated.
I can’t form a coherent thought, let alone words. I shake my head as he balls his hands and inches farther away from me on the bed, as if I’m a dangerous animal, cornered and unpredictable.
His breathing escalates, unsteady and almost panicked. “What are you doing?”
“I–I just…” I nearly black out, my vision going white. Ears ringing. I’m a stuttering, hollowed-out mess. “I was…kissing you.”
“Kissing me.” He scrapes out the words, a blade against a porcelain plate, each syllable grating. Then he blows out a breath and sinks his face into his hands.
I lift off the bed, my legs struggling for balance. “I’m sorry…I just thought—the way you kissed me tonight. During the show. I thought—”
His head snaps up, blue eyes swirling with chaos, with something I can’t explain. “I was acting, Stevie. I was playing a part.”
He’s never looked at me like this before.
It’s as if I betrayed him.
Severed his trust with one little kiss.
Oh God.
I feel stupid. Utterly dismantled.
“I–I thought… I mean, I felt…something.” Mortification blazes on my cheeks as I back away, away, then farther away until I’m flush against a wall. “I’m really sorry. I just thought this was…more.”
He stabs a hand through his hair. “ Fuck ,” he grits out, eyes squeezed shut.
Rejection eats at me. It nibbles at my insides like a fast-acting poison. Clearly, I misread everything—our budding connection, the night out on my rooftop when he held my hand, the car he purchased for me, such a priceless gift. Our conversations that felt so real and untainted.
That kiss.
Lex doesn’t see me in that way. I’m his counterpart in a stage performance, an outlet for when he needs to escape his violent household. Nothing more than a friend who just crossed a line she had no business crossing. “I…I’m going to go.”
Hollow eyes bore holes into me. “Shit…I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, blinking away the tortured glaze. “I didn’t mean to freak out on you—” He jumps up from the bed when I scramble for the doorknob. “Stevie, wait. You can’t drive home. You’ve been drinking.”
“I’ll call for a ride.” I haul myself out the doorway and stumble into the hall, a ring of fire burning me on all sides.
Tears bite at my eyes, my throat raw and stinging.
I weave through the clusters of people, shoving them aside, reaching for my purse and jacket on the wall hook, and fumbling for my cell phone.
I feel him behind me, hear him calling my name, but I block it all out and race out the front door, leaving it swinging open on its hinges.
“Stevie!”
I’ll walk home. It’s only a few miles.
Truth be told, I had no intention of drinking tonight—hence driving here myself. But then I realized I needed liquid courage to face Lex, a decision I am now decidedly regretting. I figured I’d catch a ride with someone. Maybe even go home with him.
Stupid.
My feet pick up speed as I swerve onto the sidewalk and glance up. Fat snowflakes flutter from a dark-blue sky, and the chilly December air pricks at my skin as ice tunnels through my lungs.