Chapter 12 Theo
Theo
He’d spent most of the day preparing.
Recalibrated his mic input. Adjusted the soundproofing panels on the east wall. Ran a full diagnostic on his backup recorder, even though the last session went off without a hitch.
Then, for some reason, he’d scrubbed the kitchen counters.
He knew it was overkill, but it gave him something to do that wasn’t thinking about Maya. Or her celibacy.
When she arrived, she looked… exactly the same and nothing like before. Casual jeans. A soft-knit long-sleeve top. Hair in a puff. Lip gloss that maybe wasn’t new, but he hadn’t seen it in daylight and now it looked pink and dangerous.
She didn’t comment on the tidy kitchen. Just nodded, slid off her shoes, and walked straight into the studio like they were coworkers clocking in for a shift.
Theo followed her, on his best behavior. He wasn’t going to bring up anything that was said on the porch swing at her parents' house. Not when she was still struggling with their partnership.
He wasn’t even going to say anything about his hands and how she fantasized about them.
“I was thinking,” he started, carefully. “Maybe we could experiment with some pacing exercises tonight.”
She turned, curious. “Like what?”
He held up a printout. “I read about a technique some dual-narration teams use. We take turns reading a few lines of the same passage, same tone and energy, then match pitch and timing so the characters feel more aligned. Helps with rhythm and emotional flow.”
Maya raised an eyebrow. “I’ll read Yvette’s lines?”
He nodded. “And I’ll read Paul’s. All in the same chapter, like a play. Just the dialogue.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I suppose I could do that.”
“I’ll hang out behind the glass and give you some breathing room,” he said, adjusting her mic.
The breathing room was for him.
Her presence was too much. Her scent, her posture, the slight arch of her foot as she crossed one leg over the other.
Five—
She was going to say years, he was sure of it.
What he wasn’t sure of was why it struck him so hard.
Maybe it was the way she’d said it: angry, frustrated, spilling out by accident.
Maybe he didn’t like thinking about her going without. That she’d been working so hard, carrying so much, and no one had been showing up for her.
“Theo?”
He blinked. She was watching him through the glass, headphones on, waiting. “You zoning out already?”
He clicked the talkback mic. “Nope. Just calibrating.”
She arched an eyebrow.
He cleared his throat. “We’ll practice with Chapter Twenty. I’ll take Paul’s lines, you follow with Yvette’s. Let’s match rhythm. No over-acting. Just… real.”
Maya nodded. “Got it.”
“Ready?” he asked over the talkback mic, his thumb hovering near the record button.
Maya adjusted her mic, already in the booth, headphones on, spine straight. “Ready.”
He steadied his breath and pressed record.
“Chapter Twenty,” she read. “‘I knew what I was doing when I took his hand. I just didn’t know how far I’d let him go.’”
Her voice was too calm. Too controlled. So he gave her something to bounce off.
“‘Say it,’” Theo read, low and deliberate. “‘Say you want me to touch you.’”
Silence.
Then:
“‘I want you to touch me,’” Maya breathed into the mic, soft and sharp. “‘But not gentle. Not sweet. I want you greedy.’”
Theo’s mouth went dry.
He licked his bottom lip and leaned into the mic.
“‘Greedy’s easy,’” he murmured, leaning into the gravel. “‘I’ve been starving for you since the day you looked at me like I mattered.’”
Maya made a small sound. Not in character.
He heard it anyway.
“‘Then show me,’” she read, a little too fast. “‘Don’t just talk, Paul. Don’t tease me like I’m not already soaked through my—’”
She broke off.
Theo’s pulse thudded.
“Keep going,” he said, voice low, through the talkback.
She cleared her throat once.
Then:
“‘Don’t tease me like I’m not already soaked through my panties, just from you looking at me like that.’”
Theo closed his eyes for half a second.
She wasn’t looking at him, but the booth glass no longer felt like it was enough to separate them. Not when she was practically pleading into his headphones.
“‘You think I don’t know what you need?’” he bit out into the mic. “‘You think I don’t see it every time you cross your legs and pretend your thighs aren’t clenched like they’re waiting for me to earn it?’”
She let out a breath.
“‘Then earn it,’” she shot back. “‘With your fingers. With your mouth. With that fucking attitude.’”
Theo leaned closer.
“‘This attitude’s the only thing keeping me from bending you over the goddamn ropes.’”
Another beat.
Then Maya read: “‘Then lose it. Lose control. Just for me.’”
Her voice cracked just enough to make him feel it in his teeth.
Theo clicked the talkback mic off before he said something that wasn’t in the script.
He needed a second.
His hand hovered over the dial, thumb just above pause, to save himself.
But Maya didn’t stop.
Didn’t stumble.
She lowered her voice. “He didn’t ask if I was ready,” she read, the words like sin wrapped in silk. “He just pushed my panties aside and slid his fingers in like I’d always been his.”
Theo’s jaw clenched. His hand moved slow, just enough to grip the edge of the desk.
“I didn’t gasp,” she continued, hushed. “I groaned. Deep and dirty. Because he filled me like he’d done it a hundred times in his dreams, and now he was catching up.”
He leaned into the mic, voice low and close. “‘Tight,’” he growled. “‘And so fuckin’ wet. Every inch of you squeezing me like you’d been waiting for this, aching for it.’”
Maya’s breath cracked over the line. That wasn’t acting.
Neither was his.
“And what do I do?” she read, voice shaking. “What do I say when he pulls his fingers out just to taste me?”
Theo didn’t answer the line.
Not right away.
He breathed once. Twice.
Then: “You say fuck me. You say my name and grind down harder. You say more. And you lose your goddamn mind on my hand.”
Maya’s lips parted.
She dropped the script.
Theo watched it flutter to the booth floor and didn’t dare breathe again.
Through the glass, her eyes met his. Wide. Dark. Wild. Her chest rose and fell too fast. She didn’t speak.
Neither could he.
She just stared at him. He knew why.
Because none of those words were Paul’s.
That was Theo speaking.
He could see her losing it now. Not with her body, but with the way she looked at him. Like she didn’t know where she was anymore. Like she wasn’t in a booth, in a studio, in a carefully sound-treated loft.
She was there, wherever they’d just dragged each other.
“Maya,” he said, voice raw through the talkback.
No answer. She finally blinked, once, and he saw her throat bob as she swallowed.
“Do you want to take a break?” he asked.
“Um…” She ran a shaky hand through her fluffy ponytail. “I think—whew! We kinda just started, so… Maybe I just need a sec?”
Theo nodded, keeping his voice even. “Yeah. Of course.”
Maya stepped out of the booth slower than usual. She didn’t look at him as she rounded the desk, just slid into the chair next to his, posture tight.
“Play it back?” she asked in a tentative voice. “I just want to see if I’ve gotten better.”
Theo tried not to scoff at the request. Gotten better? She’d nearly burnt a hole in the mic’s pop shield. He clicked a few buttons, loaded the playback, and sat back as their voices, poured through the speakers.
She was close enough that her knee brushed his. Close enough that he could hear her breath catch. Not on the recording, but right here. Now.
As the scene unspooled, she didn’t move.
But he could feel it. Every shift. Every inhale. Every second she felt what they’d just performed.
When one particularly raw line hit, she made a sound; a soft, aching exhale, barely audible over the speakers. But he heard it. Felt it in his chest.
Maya turned her head toward him, eyes wide. Mouth parted. Still breathing like she hadn’t caught up with herself yet.
And then she whispered a soft confession: “We’re really good at this.”
All he could do was nod.
She ran a hand over her mouth as she glanced at the control panel. “What do you even call this?”
“Chemistry,” he said without thinking.
Her eyes flitted to his before narrowing.
“Chemistry,” she repeated, almost under her breath, as if she were tasting it.
The word landed between them, heavier than anything they’d recorded, and she gave a shaky little laugh that didn’t match the flush creeping up her neck.
“That’s… yeah. That’s one word for it.” Her hand fluttered at her throat, restless, before she dropped it into her lap. “Except chemistry usually blows things up.”
Theo didn’t disagree with the sentiment, so he kept his mouth shut. They were probably good on his off-the-cuff responses.
“Um—I’m just gonna—excuse me for a sec.” She pushed back from the chair so fast it squeaked against the floor, already halfway to the hall before the word “bathroom” even made it out of her mouth.
It wasn’t until he heard the click of the bathroom door that he covered his face with his hands and groaned behind them. “Fuuuuck…”