Chapter Eighteen
Two Weeks Left
I stand there for a while and stare at the spot where Xander has just been. After I manage to pull myself together, I head back to my desk.
It’s hard to ignore the whispering from people as they glance between me and Xander. It seems like we’ve been the talk of the town lately. Everyone heard about our trip and now they all see that we’re not talking. It’s just like the day when Meagan pulled me into her office and everyone seemed to know I was in trouble before I did. I’ve had enough of this. I never wanted to the source of the office gossip. I just want things to go back to how they were.
I glance over to Xander’s desk but, to my surprise, he looks just as adrift as I feel. My mind flashes back to the moment when we had that argument in the café, and all I can see is that hurt expression on his face. I hated seeing him like that. I knew how much it took from him to open up to me. And for some reason my accusation was a betrayal to him.
I’m so lost in thought that I barely notice Meagan come up to my desk.
‘Hiya, Yara!’
she says.
‘How’s the episode coming along? Two weeks to go! I’m looking forward to reading.’
‘Yeah, it’s… getting there.’
The words sound hollow even to me.
‘If you need anything. Anything at all, you know where to find me. I’m always here to help, even if you just need someone to talk to, okay?’
She sounds concerned. Clearly Xander and I haven’t been pretending to work together as well as I hoped.
I nod absently. But then my thoughts start to spiral. How are we supposed to finish the episode when the guy can barely look at me? My eyes drift towards today’s date on my computer and I groan at the reminder of how quickly the deadline is approaching. We got a lot done before Wales but, now we’re writing separately, I have no idea whether it will all come together. For all I know, Xander could have changed his mind about what I suggested for the final scene and be writing his own new version… what if we can’t agree on the final draft when there’s no time to spare?
As I watch Meagan’s retreating figure, I know that I have to figure out a way to get Xander alone, somewhere he can’t avoid me. There’s too much at stake – my career, the show, whatever friendship we ever had – for me to just let this go.
The moment I see Xander get up from his desk, I seize my opportunity to follow him. I track his movement until he disappears round a corner. I get up. But I take a different route that will lead me to the vending machine, where I know he’ll be. He always goes there around this time of day for a snack, probably a Twirl, and this may be my only chance.
I intercept him just before he reaches the vending machine and latch on to his arm, then drag him with me into the small storage cupboard at the end of the hallway.
He looks surprised but quickly recovers.
‘Is this really necessary?’
I close the door of the small room. It’s dark and cramped, with only a single hanging lightbulb above us. All around are stacked papers, tipped cartons that spew pens over the shelves, and a random sword that someone from props must have left here.
‘Yes. Yes it is. We really need to talk. Sorry about this’
– I gesture to the messy storage cupboard around us .
‘but I feel like everyone is talking about the finale and how we’re doing and there’s so much pressure.’
I look down and see my other hand is still gripping his arm. I hadn’t realised just how small this room really is, hardly any space between us. In the stress of the moment, all I could think about was finding somewhere to talk. But now that we’re here, a wave of nervousness hits me in my stomach. We’re close. I can feel the heat emanating from his chest. The buckle of his belt strays dangerously close to my waist. I look between us again. Yeah… definitely too close.
He looks down at me expectantly.
‘Fine, you wanted to talk. So, talk.’
There’s an undeniable hostility in his tone, which drives the knife deeper still.
‘We’re running out of time. You know it, I know it. The deadline is coming up hard and fast and, if we don’t finish it, we’re both screwed!’
My words are frantic as I try to get him to understand the urgency of the situation. I finally gather up the courage to look up at him, my eyes scanning his, trying to gauge his reaction.
But what I find in his gaze devastates me. He’s looking somewhere past, through me. ‘We?’
He lets out a cruel laugh.
‘There is no we, Yara! You…’
His breathing is laboured now. He runs a hand through his black hair. Scrunches his eyes closed.
‘You made sure of that.’
I feel nauseous. Dangerous to be nauseous in such a small cupboard where my mouth is almost touching his shoulder. I want to escape, get out of here, go somewhere far away. But I can’t. This means too much.
Instinctively, I place my hands on his chest.
‘Can we just—Can we just stop for a moment. Please, Xander?’
When he doesn’t reply, I barge onwards.
‘It’s not even about who is going to get the stupid lead credit at this point. But if we don’t hand in a draft of the episode then our jobs could be at stake. This isn’t about us.’
I pause to consider whether I want to say my next words. I bite the bullet.
‘Even if you want to continue pretending that there isn’t an us.’
There, I said it. But I’m too scared of his response, so I quickly move on.
‘Whatever I said that offended you, we need to get over it because we were always meant to do this together. We make each other better, I need your help… I-I need you.’
‘I’m sorry, Yara. I don’t think we can make this work. I read the scenes you emailed over, they’re good. I’ll write mine and we’ll fit them together. I just think we’re better off on our own.
‘And there isn’t an us. Seriously. It’s like I said in Wales. I don’t believe in love. You do. You’d be better off with someone who can give you what you need. I don’t know, maybe I thought that was changing.’
He looks into the distance, laughing breathlessly.
‘But I was right not to. Giving yourself over in that way, it leaves you open to hurt. Because look at all the hurt we’ve caused each other. You can’t force me to change my mind.’
His words pierce me. Every type of relationship we could have had, whether as colleagues, or friends, or whatever else I might have wished for, has been ruined. Clearly our time in Wales affected him as much as – if not more than – it did me.
‘I know,’
I say, my voice barely audible.
‘And for the record, I didn’t want to force you to change. I-I like you just the way you are… most of the time anyway. I like you when we’re arguing about whether Barbie or Oppenheimer was the better movie. I like you when you’re scribbling ideas in your terrible handwriting in your notebook. I like you when you eat your afternoon Twirl and you spill flakes all over your desk.’
I let out a sad laugh. I glance up at him and he’s softened, looking bashful after my compliments.
‘I just – I really didn’t want us to end like this.’
‘Like what?’
He edges ever closer to me in the small space. His words curl around and into my ear.
‘What is it that you want from me, Yara?’
The tension between us shimmers. The air shifts. I look up at him and my lips part. I see his gaze dart to my mouth. His eyes darken, just like they did in the hotel room just before he…
‘I—’
But before I can get the words out, Xander’s lips clash onto mine and I let out a yelp of surprise that dissolves into a sigh of relief. His tongue brushes against mine. He clasps his hands round my waist, as I hold him by his hips, colliding in a flurry of passion.
There is nothing gentle about it. It’s like all the energy of the hours, days, years working across from each other suddenly explodes, at last a release from all that pent-up longing. It’s desperate and urgent, our problems forgotten for as long as we’re together like this. For now, we are just two people, lost but connected. His fingers tense, tightening the hold on my waist, pulling me impossibly closer.
I can’t focus on anything but him, on how much I want this – how long I’ve wanted this. How long have I secretly desired him? I can’t even think. The room spins and nothing else matters. Slowly, his hand trails upwards and finds its way to my throat. His fingers gently press into my skin. Not hard enough to hurt but enough that the sensation makes me gasp. I move my hands up to his head and entwine my fingers in his hair. He groans slightly as I tighten my grip, pulling him deeper into the embrace.
The shrill blare of a ringtone snaps us both back to reality. Xander yanks himself back as if my mere touch would suddenly scorch him. He runs his large hand through his hair, which is now dishevelled, falling messily over his green eyes. God, he looks incredible.
He looks at me, eyes still heavy with lust. The small cupboard is filled only by the sound of our ragged breathing. He bites the inside of his cheek and then clenches his jaw.
‘Uh, I-I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘What?’
My voice breaks and I hate myself for it.
Instead of replying, he steps back from me, backing himself into the corner of the cupboard as far away from me as possible.
‘We can’t… I can’t do this, Yara.’
My head reels.
‘What are you saying?’
I can’t stop the tremble in my voice.
‘You can’t keep doing this to me. You leaned in for a kiss. You pulled me in and now you’re just going to pretend like that didn’t happ—’
‘Just forget about it… I already have.’
He casts his eyes at the ground, looking ashamed.
‘You wanted to come in here to talk about the episode. We’ve done most of it anyway, it’s just that last scene, so let’s just propose our own endings and see who comes out on top.’
‘You’re a coward, you know that,’
I spit out.
‘I get that I might have upset you before, but you do not get to use me as an emotional punching bag, just because you are too scared to face your own feelings.’
He stumbles back as if I’ve just hit him.
His face is full of regret and hurt.
Before I can say anything else, Xander is gone.
The door is burst open and our dark cupboard is suddenly full of the bright fluorescent lights from outside, the cacophony of sounds of everyone bustling around the office.
Photocopiers humming, bubbling chatter, a coffee cup clinking as it’s placed in the sink.
But for me, it’s deathly silent. Because he’s not here.
My mouth still throbs from our kiss, the best kiss I’ve ever had.
I can’t go out there, not yet.
My legs give out as I sink to the floor.
I don’t know what I expected bringing him in here.
But that was certainly wasn’t it.
My heart is breaking all over again but this time I’m also angry. Screw him. If he wants to lash out like a child, then fine. But I will have no part in it.