Lapse （v.） – Scarlett
LAPSE (V.):
TO FAIL TO OCCUR, PARTICULARLY A GIFT MADE IN A WILL.
SCARLETT
I’m going to choke onstage tonight.
I can feel it.
The opening nights and previews were filled with people who naturally loved theater—aspiring actors, devoted fans, and critics who wanted the show to succeed.
Tonight is different.
The people in the crowd are all new, all foreign. There are two busloads of high school students in the balcony, and I can already feel them preparing to hate this.
All the progress I’ve made over the past few months feels like it’s slipping away, and I’m tempted to tell the understudy to get dressed before the curtain goes up.
Calm down, Scarlett. Calm down.
It’s not working.
I slip into my dressing room and stare at my costume hanging on the wall.
Grabbing it, I hold it against my chest and challenge myself to say my first line.
“There’s nothing like falling in…” I stutter. “There’s nothing like…”
The rest of the sentence stalls on my lips.
“Four hours until showtime, everybody!” the director yells from the other side of my door. “Let’s make tonight count!”
My stomach twists.
I pick up my phone and start to call my mother, but she’s at a spa, getting ready for her debut in the front row.
Sighing, I call Jameson.
“Yes, Scarlett?” he answers before it can ring.
“Can you remind me that I’m the best fucking liar you’ve met?”
He lets out a low laugh. “You are—by far—the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met.”
“That’s not what I asked you to say.”
“You’re the best liar, Scarlett, for the worst of reasons.”
“I’m going to mess up my debut because I can’t relax, and I know you may not care—”
“I definitely care.”
“Well, thank you, but—I think I need to call Jeneva for some tips so I can calm down.”
“No, just open the door.”
“Because you sent me flowers?”
“For you to reject again? No…”
I walk over and pull it open.
Jameson is standing on the other side with a single red rose in his hand, looking better than any man has a right to.
His white button-down is slightly undone at the collar, and the second our eyes meet, he takes my breath away with ease.
There’s something in his expression I can’t quite place.
Something different.
“Thank you…” I reach for the rose, but he doesn’t let me take it.
Instead, he pulls me against his chest and kisses me long and hard in a way I’ve missed far too much.
He steps inside and sets me atop the table, and within seconds, I forget where the hell we are.
I forget about the show.
I forget about everything.
“I love you, Scarlett,” he says, sliding his hands along my back.
“Wait, I…” I’m still kissing him. “I’m not sure if I can let you—”
“Help you relax?”
“No, I can’t if you—”
“I dropped your father this morning,” he says. “I meant to do it weeks ago.”
My mind goes blank.
He kisses me again, harder this time, and every reason I had for keeping him at a distance starts slipping away.
It’s us.
Just us.
The first man I’ve ever fucked.
The man I want to be my last.
It’s been so long since I’ve had him that I can’t hold on for long, and I bite into his shoulder to keep from screaming his name.
“There’s nothing like falling in love with someone you hate…”
The first line comes to me with ease.
“I, um…” I struggle to catch my breath. “I need to get ready for my performance, Jameson. We should talk after, though.”
“We will.” He kisses my forehead.
“What happened to Cole?” he asks. “Is he still in the picture?”
“I dumped him after we talked on the phone that night,” I say. “I realized he would never be you.”
“You can’t possibly want to be with a murderer…”
“Some people deserve to die…”
He kisses me again, pulling me closer.
I try to push him away, but I can’t.
And deep down, I know I don’t really want to.
I never want to let him go again…