Chapter 28 #2
“Chlo, it’s been hard…” I turn to her, and she frowns, not understanding.
“I’ve worked so hard at my career and it’s not even a good one…
but it’s all I have. I’m not like you, I don’t have a partner or kids.
Now I’m so close to finally being happy again, having my dream, and I can’t risk losing that. ”
“What are you worried about?” she asks.
“That I can’t have it all,” I admit.
Chloe shifts so we’re sitting side by side and I loop my arm into hers, resting my head on her shoulder. “You don’t have to choose, June.”
I take a deep inhale and wonder if she’s right.
We lean our heads back and look up at the ceiling, listening to the whispers of the city’s hustle and bustle outside. For the next few seconds, we’re silent, and the weight on my chest slowly lifts.
“So can I ask you a question?” Chloe’s tone has changed, and I nod. “How was it?”
My brows furrow. “How was what?”
“ It. ” She sits up straight and looks down at me. “I always pictured the two of you being wild, like dirty talk and shit.”
“You’ve pictured us having sex?” I make a face.
“Are you really going to judge me right now?”
I roll my eyes and let her have this. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never had sex and then wanted to do it again immediately after.”
“Oh my God, June!” she screams, and I cover my face with my hands, trying not to blush. “Y’all are freaks.”
“You’re the one who asked!”
After watching the entire Star Wars trilogy and debating whether or not we, as a society, have taken Luke and Leia’s kissing too lightly, Chloe heads home and I’m left to clean up our mess of pizza boxes.
As I’m wiping down the kitchen counter, I hear my phone ring and rush to the living room to answer it. The name Theo takes up my screen.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hi!” she says. “It’s not too late, is it?”
“No, I’m free!” I hold my phone out and quickly look at the time: 8:06 p.m. “What’s up?”
“So, I just got some news,” she says. “Remember that self-tape you did earlier this year for that drama?”
My brain scans the many self-tapes I’ve shot over the course of the past nine months. “Which one?”
“The limited series about the woman who’s somehow tied to all the murders happening in her small town?”
“Oh my God, of course,” I say, remembering. I was heartbroken to find out I didn’t get the part, but when it was announced that the role went to an A-list actress, it was just an honor to even be considered.
“Long story short, the casting director kept your tape and A24 wants you for a film they’re adapting next year.”
Each individual hair on my arms raises. “Wait, what?! Seriously?”
“Yes!” Theo says brightly. “They’re working out terms and are going to send over an offer before next week. But I wouldn’t call you if I didn’t get the verbal confirmation.”
“W-What’s the role?”
“One second, let me pull up the logline…” she says, and I hear some mouse-clicking on her end. “Okay, I’ll send you the script too but…‘A woman who gets a face reconfiguration quickly becomes obsessed with her past life when she meets someone with the identity she lost.’?”
“Oh my God.” I sit down on one of the barstools.
“I know, it’s wild.”
“Wait,” I say. “What about Les Mis ?”
“That’s the thing. Production would start within the first three opening months,” she says. “You wouldn’t be able to do both.”
“Oh.” My breath dips.
“I know it’s a lot to process. But what you need to do, June, is think about what you want— really think. Both of these are game-changing roles. I’m telling you, the minute it’s announced you’re in this film, you’ll have your second and third production already booked before you start filming.”
What I should be thinking about is my career, the opportunities to come, yet I see the choices weighed out on a scale and they’re not this film versus Broadway. Or even New York versus LA. It’s Adam versus no Adam.
“I’m emailing you the script now,” Theo continues. “Read it and we can connect next week.”
“Okay,” I say.
“This is not a bad thing, June,” she says in the most optimistic voice she’s had this entire phone call. “Enjoy this.”
I should be happy. I should be thrilled.
“Amazing” is all I’m able to say. “I’ll keep an eye out. Thanks, Theo.”
After taking a hot shower and making myself a decaf chai, I pull out my laptop and read the script labeled Me and You.
The story is The Twilight Zone meets Past Lives, and I’m utterly captivated.
The role of Isabelle is complex and gritty, allowing me to tap into emotions I never had to in any other production I’ve beenin.
Once I moved to Los Angeles, my career veered from what I’d learned in acting school. Scripts like Me and You are the reason I wanted to pursue TV and film in the first place. On the other hand, musicals like Les Misérables are the foundation for my overall desire to be an actress.
The whole “deciding what you want to do with your life” thing turns out to be more tiring than I’d thought, because next thing I know, I wake up to Adam crouched down in front of me, rubbing my arm.
“Mm, what time is it?” I ask sleepily.
“It’s almost midnight,” he whispers. He gently closes my laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “I debated letting you sleep down here but wanted you to be in bed.”
“With you?” I close my eyes again.
“Yes,” he says with a little laugh. “Just let me take a shower first.”
After turning off the only lamp in the living room, he effortlessly scoops me up and brings me upstairs.
He doesn’t really need to be carrying me, but I’m tired and selfishly enjoy being wrapped in his arms. Carefully, he places me in my bed and tucks in the sheets like I’m a child.
My eyes close and in what could be ten minutes or an hour later, I feel Adam curling up behind me.
There’s a fresh scent of cedar bodywash, and I move myself closer to him.
“How was work?” I mumble.
“Fine. Wished I were here instead.” He rubs my shoulder. “How’s Chloe?”
“Really good.” I yawn.
“Good.” He gives me a kiss on my ear and squeezes me a little tighter. “Night, June.”
“Night, Adam.”
The possibility of having this every night lingers in the final moments of my consciousness.
Adam takes the week off work, and it gives me a taste of what life could be like—what life is like.
We wake up and have morning sex, which I used to avoid at all costs.
The days consist of afternoon, evening, and shower sex.
When we engage in domestic activities like grocery shopping, cooking, or walking around the city, it feels a lot like our old life, but better.
Now I’m able to act on my impulse to touch him, hug him, kiss him, and it’s fun.
He’s sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop one evening, the light from the screen glowing onto his glasses while I’m on the couch reading a book.
His facial hair has grown back a little bit and he’s wearing a white Henley with his sleeves rolled up and gray sweatpants.
His guard is completely and utterly down, and there’s something so attractive about Adam just being Adam in my presence.
“How are you so handsome?” I ask from across the room.
Adam’s gaze lifts from his screen and he hmm s because he genuinely didn’t hearme.
Setting my book down, I sit up straight, then lift my sweatshirt over my head, tossing it onto the ground. I pull my sweatpants and socks off and throw them in a pile, leaving only my pink underwearon.
Adam’s eyebrows rise as he stares at my exposed skin. I pull my hair out from a bun and let it fall over my shoulders and down my back, and relax into the couch, smiling at the sight of his jaw muscles working overtime.
“I’m awfully lonely over here.” I let out an exaggerated sigh.
He closes his laptop, remaining seated. “What would you do if I wasn’t home?”
“I guess I’d have to satisfy myself.” I shrug.
“Show me” is all he says.
Perking up a little, I bite my lip. My fingers travel to the hem of my underwear and hesitate for a moment before going any farther.
I’ve never done this in front of someone before, but with Adam here, watching me, it’s incredibly arousing.
It’s challenging me in a way I have never been before, not unlike the feeling of performing a monologue.
I’ve done this countless times within the privacy of my own walls, but now there’s an audience.
My eyes close as my fingers travel underneath the fabric, feeling how wet I already am. I gently rub myself the way I normally would and let my legs spread across the coffee table.
“Look at me,” Adam says, and my eyes open.
He’s still sitting, his glasses now off, and there’s something about the look in his eyes, the way his throat bobs when I move my hand a little faster. The urge to show him what I do when I think of him, what I’ve done for the years we’ve been apart, feels almost more intimate than sex itself.
A slight moan on my end is all it takes for Adam to stand up, and I hear the sound of the chair squeaking against the floor beneath him.
He’s walking toward me, but I don’t stop moving my fingers.
He steps in between my legs and kneels down, pulling my panties off.
He’s not subtle about anything, and once I’m fully exposed, he buries his face into me and I throw my head back in pleasure.
“Holy fuck,” I cry, as the flat of his tongue swipes my most sensitive areas.
He enters me, and I can’t help but grip his hair in my hands.
“I said look at me, ” he almost demands, and a grin slowly emerges on my face. I didn’t realize they were closed, but I open my eyes and look. The sight of his head greedily moving up and down and the sound of his grunts instantly makes me come.
“Adam.” I pull his head in closer to me, grinding my hips, and have one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had.
“I didn’t realize our meeting with Mara is next week.” Adam pours me a cup of coffee and then begins frothing milk forus.