Chapter 27 Lachlan
LACHLAN
Goose bumps rise along the back of my neck, and I’m dizzy. As I face Isak, I can’t help but replay what just happened.
I kissed him, and I loved it. I loved how he held my face and kissed me back harshly, like he was punishing me and taking care of me at the same time.
Like he couldn’t help himself, he had to get out all his aggression and emotion.
I know the feeling. I wish we could’ve kept going, that I could have touched my tongue to his and devoured him.
And despite what I said earlier about staying away, I don’t want to.
I want more of his gasps, more of his hands on me.
I also really want to hug him. Right fucking now.
“Hey,” I say, my voice raspy. I clear my throat.
He doesn’t acknowledge my presence, other than his body freezing up.
“Can we talk?” I ask.
“There’s nothing to say,” he mutters, cracking his knuckles as he starts to pace again.
My ribs grow tight. I can’t breathe. “Of course there is. I … kissed you, and you ran off. What’s the problem?”
Isak snaps. He moves toward me so aggressively that I involuntarily step away.
My back thuds against the cold, rough stucco wall.
He’s crowding into me, and, damn, I like being this close to him.
I like how his body feels against mine, his beautiful face all up in my business.
Just like moments ago, when we were surrounded by cast members, I have to battle getting hard.
His eyes flash. “I agreed to your terms, Lachlan. We met when you wanted. You never touched me, I only touched you. Fine, I get it. Now things have changed, and you say we can’t keep getting each other off.
Okay. But”—his voice lowers—“you can’t kiss me for real onstage.
” His breath wafts over my lips. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me.
I want that.
“I didn’t know how to do a stage kiss,” I say quietly. And I’m glad I didn’t, because I wanted an excuse to kiss him. So at least I know what he tastes like: gummy cola bottle sweetness. I can still taste him on my lips.
“Well, now you know.”
“Can you tell me what the problem is?” I ask. “Was kissing me really that awful?”
“Of course not. That’s not the point,” he sputters.
“Then what is the point?”
“You barely acknowledge me,” he says, his voice rising, “and now you think it’s going to be easy to perform like we’re buddies or friends or boyfriends?
” He takes a step back, as if he’s just realized that we look like we’re making out.
“It was always going to be hard to play this part with you, but now that we kissed, it’s going to be that much harder.
Because I’ve been wanting to kiss you and you never let me. This sucks.”
Standing here, seeing the hurt on his face, the truth is hitting me.
My rationalization that “it’s not gay if we don’t touch” is such total bullshit.
I like Isak. I want to kiss him again. And now that he’s standing in front of me, so pissed off, I know I deserve his anger.
I’ve been nothing but mixed signals and chickenshit games.
I’ve been using him, and it’s got to stop.
My voice drops. “Of course it won’t be easy performing or being this close to you. I never thought it would be.”
“I can’t fake it with you,” he whispers. “Everyone will know. And you don’t want them to know. I can’t have you being sorry every night, either.”
Does he mean that he feels something, too? “I get it,” I say, even though I don’t totally get it.
He pauses again, eyes on the ground, and then he lifts his chin. “You rejected me. You said we needed to go back to the way things were before October. That hurt.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“And you’re sorry you kissed me.”
“I … I … ” Fuck. I’m not sorry about that.
“I don’t think I can handle this. We do shit together, then we don’t. It’s fucking with my head.”
A noise behind us startles us farther apart. Robert the janitor passes by, pushing a large trash can on wheels. I wave at him.
Once he’s out of earshot, Isak says, “Someone else should take my role.”
My chance at being able to spend time with him and to get to know him is slipping through my fingers. Along with my excuse to kiss him—even pretend kissing.
“Fuck, no,” I sputter. “I can’t imagine kissing anyone but you.”
That statement hangs between us. But now that I said it, I know it’s so damn true.
Isak rolls his eyes. “Then you quit.”
“No.” The image of Isak standing onstage kissing another guy enrages me. “No one else kisses you.”
Isak stares at me. He’s striking, illuminated by the orange outdoor lamps. “What the hell? You won’t have me, but no one else can, either?” He shakes his head, and my stomach sinks. “You don’t have the right to say that. We’re nothing to each other.”
Ouch. “Except that’s not really true. It didn’t feel fake between us, up there on the stage.” Shit, I said it out loud.
“That’s the point. Fuck, Lachlan, I’m not doing this. Any of this. I didn’t want to be in the show anyway.”
“No. You can’t quit.” My breathing comes quick and shallow, and I clench and unclench my fists to stop them from shaking.
The panic must be written on my face, because Isak heaves a big sigh. “Fuuuuuck, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’ve taken away your … your … I don’t know, your new puppy.”
I snort. “You’re not a puppy.”
“Yeah, but you know what I mean. Your … thing.” He waves a hand. “Now I feel like I’m disappointing you, when you’re the one who hurt me.”
“Again, Isak, I’m so sorry. What do I have to do to get you to stay in the show?” The sincerity in my voice must get to him, because his face falls.
He paces back and forth in front of me for a few moments, rubbing the nape of his neck. Finally he turns to me, eyes on fire. “I need you to beg.”
I cough out a laugh. “What?”
“Beg.”
“Please, Isak, will you be in the show with me?” I ask, feeling ridiculous.
Isak shakes his head vehemently. “I’ve been on my knees for you for months,” he hisses, voice low. “Now it’s your turn to get on your knees for me.” He points to the ground in front of him.
I mean … he’s right.
He has done everything for me, and I’ve done nothing for him. I’ve been a dick to him, using him, but … I can’t seem to stay away from him. I don’t want to lose this weird tension between us. I want to be near him as much as I can. Hours of rehearsals every day seems like the best way to do that.
So, after one last look around—we’re alone—I drop to my knees.
The cold cement is hard and unyielding. It hurts.
It feels good to hurt. And I feel single-mindedly focused on Isak, who is still next to the wall.
There’s a tautness in my midsection, my heart beating frantically as I look up at him, my nose running. A lump forms in my throat.
I fucking want him.
“Isak,” I whisper, reaching out to grab his hips, then pulling my hands back.
“I’m sorry it feels like I've been playing with you.” My voice cracks as I lock eyes with him.
“I do not mean to hurt you. I’m confused, and you’re getting the brunt of my problems. Please don’t think that I— Just please do the show.
I know you’re going to be great, and I need to be in this, and honestly—” I gulp.
“I don’t think I could kiss anyone else onstage, fake or not. ”
He looks at me with this supercilious gaze, and my cock twitches. I want to tug his pants down and make him feel as good as he’s made me feel this past winter.
Shit, Lachlan. Don’t think like that.
My chin quivers, and my hands hang at my sides.
Isak’s gaze stays cold, a jagged sort of ice—tough like the ground abrading my knees. I don’t think he’s going to give in.
“Fuck. Please, Isak. Please.” My eyes stay on his, and I don’t know what to call what passes between us. A feeling? Energy? Electricity?
He looks away. My stomach sinks.
Except … except I don’t think it’s my imagination that he’s getting a little aroused, with me down here before him, my nose at the level of his crotch. I’ve never blown him, but … What have I been missing because I was too scared to try?
Not the time to think about that.
I don’t want to do this show with anyone else. No need to deeply analyze why.
So I need to beg. Beg better.
“Please,” I whisper, reaching a tentative hand up and placing it on his hip. He whips his head back in my direction. “I’m begging you to stay in the show. I need you to do this with me. I need you,” I say, my eyes watering. “I just do.”
Isak raises an eyebrow. I can’t tell if I’m getting through to him or not. If this is the right way to beg or not. I’ve never begged for anything in my life.
Or, wait. Maybe I have.
Maybe every time I’m with Isak, he makes me beg.
“All of the rest of our kisses are going to be fake,” he demands. “Put a thumb on me before you move in.”
That’s disappointing—no more excuse to kiss him for real—but if it means he’s going to continue with Browser History? I’ll take it. “Fine.”
“And we need to stay apart otherwise. No acknowledging each other unless it’s onstage or related to the show.
” His voice cracks. “The back-and-forth has to stop, so I’m deciding how we’re going to be.
You’re such a flirt, and you don’t even mean it.
I can’t have you flirting with me when it’s never going to go anywhere. ”
I want to tell him that with him I think I mean it all, but even that’s going to sound like flirting. So I nod. “I’ll stay away.”
“No hookups. No real kisses. Our characters are falling in love, but we aren’t.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. A stabbing pain lances through my gut.
I auditioned for this show—at least in part—to be near him. But it’s more important that I give him what he wants. I’d never want to confuse him or lead him on.
Of course, I can’t give him what I think he really wants. Because that’s me.
We both want something I can’t give.
I stand up, brush off my knees, and hold out my hand. “Deal.”
He doesn’t shake my hand.
The door behind me opens, and I jump, grateful that whoever it is didn’t just witness me on my knees in front of Isak.
“I wanted to give you two some privacy to talk,” Ms. Laurent says. “Do you need any help resolving things?”
“We’ve got it,” Isak says quickly.
I nod.
“Are you two going to be able to perform in this show?”
More nods.
“I’m glad to hear that. Did any apologies that needed to be said get said?”
“Yeah,” Isak says. “We’re good.”
“Um, I’m, um, sorry,” I mutter. “I’ll respect Isak’s boundaries. Now that I know what a stage kiss is.”
Except there’s one thing I’m not sorry about: At least I got to kiss Isak once in my life.