Character Flaws: A Standalone Romantic Comedy

by Sierra Hill

  Plus, I get the sense that Joey isn’t into Marlon as much as he is into her. And believe me, that dude has a hard on for her. It’s evident in the way he sings her praises, tries to touch her at every pass and lingers outside as we say our goodbyes.

  It’s miserably hot outside and it’s well past ten p.m. Luckily, I have an airconditioned apartment to go back to. Thank you, Patrick.

  Joey slides her purse strap up her shoulder, shifting uncomfortably on her feet as we huddle outside the bar door. People enter and exit around us and the cold air from inside wafts through, hitting us with a whoosh any time the door opens. I notice Joey shivers each time it does and I want to wrap my arms around her.

  “Have a good night, Marlon. Enjoy your weekend and try not to worry about Monday’s announcements,” I try to assure him, hoping to move this along so Joey and I can head back home. And I can…

  “You okay to get home, Joey?” Marlon asks.

  Joey blinks and looks between me and Marlon and then smiles graciously.

  “Yes, thank you, Marlon. You probably didn’t know, but Theo and I live in the same building.”

  It must hit Marlon then because he sways and staggers back a bit.

  Just to show him who’s the man, I throw an arm around her shoulders, “I’ll take care of her. No worries.”

  I hope he hears the intent in my words. As in:

  She’s mine, bro.

  Marlon doesn’t seem to take the bait, and leans in to kiss Joey, who turns her cheek to him as soon as she sees his intent. I have to turn my head to look the other way and bite back my laughter.

  Denied.

  Unfortunately, Marlon is a little too tipsy to recognize the brush-off.

  Joey just smiles. “Good night, Marlon. Get home safe.”

  He grins and starts to walk backwards toward the L station where he’ll board to go home.

  “I’ll call ya later, Joey.”

  She waves and I take her elbow in the palm of my hand and guide her the opposite direction. She glances down at where I have ahold of her as if she feels it too.

  That connection. The sizzle. The spark.

  “Shall we?” I ask, leading her down the street.

  We walk in silence a few paces until she stops and looks up at me.

  “This is weird.”

  I do a double-take, confusion over what she means.

  “What’s weird?”

  She points between us. “I feel uncomfortable that we’re hanging out, because you’re my teacher and you know whether I’m in or out. And honestly, I don’t even know if I want to be in or out.”

  If only she knew how much I want to be in her.

  I move out of the way to make room for a group coming at us on the sidewalk and follow behind her as she continues walking. But then I stop and pull her toward me with a sharp yank. Her surprised expression and open mouth have my heart racing.

  “You’re in, Joey. You and me. I’ll show you everything you need to know to make this play successful. I have every faith in you that you can do it.”

  She gasps and sways in my arms, as I steady her with my hands on her biceps. She’s warm, soft and smells of cherry vanilla. I need to taste her.

  I lean down, ready to make my move. Ready to kiss her hard for real this time when someone rams into me from behind.

  We stumble awkwardly as a drunk bar patron walks by laughing and talking boisterously. His animated gestures and loud voice drags our attention away from what was just about to happen. One of his friends tries to corral him and gives us an apologetic wave.

  The moment is ruined and Joey straightens herself, adjusting her shoulder strap again and clears her throat.

  “I don’t need special treatment, Theo.”

  “Trust me, Joey. It was a unanimous decision. Birdie and Niles both put your name in as Silvia even before I mentioned it. You’ve got the vote all on your own based on your talent, Joey. And I don’t want you worried about special treatment. This isn’t like school where I’m your teacher. You’re not being treated any differently because we’re friends.”

  She squinches her face in indecision, trying to assess if I’m telling her the truth her. I want her to believe it. Because it is the truth.

  “Plus, I’d tell you if you sucked or not. That’s just the type of friend I really am.”

  She punches me playfully in the abs.

  “Shut up, jerk,” she lets out a burst of laughter. “I’m already nervous and have no idea how I let you talk me into doing this. What if I crash and burn? What if I ruin your play, Theo? I’d feel awful.”

  I watch as her whole body seems to collapse in defeat and insecurity. I know this feeling well. As an actor and writer, my inner dialogue is always nagging at me and making up stories about how bad I’ll fail. How I’m going to fuck it up. And I hate that it’s eating away at Joey’s confidence.

  I cup her cheeks and bring my forehead to touch hers. Her big green eyes are the color of grass in the summertime and reflect her uncertainty.

  “Don’t you dare think that way, Joey. I won’t let you fail. I promise. Do you trust me?”

  Her eyes close, lashes fanning out over her cheeks and she scrunches her nose.

  “I suppose so. Do I really have any other choice? You’re so bossy.”

  I laugh at this, pinching her cute cheeks and tapping her nose. “That’s my girl. And you have no idea just how bossy I can get.”

  With that, she raises her eyelids and brows. I take her hand and we make our way back home.

  I reconsider the idea of getting involved with Joey right now. I have a lot riding on the play, on my directorial debut and her success. If I made a move, it would only complicate things between us and possibly put strain on our friendship.

  Or worse yet, ruin it.

  I can wait a few more weeks.

  It shouldn’t be hard.

  Right?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Joey

  Improvising can be dangerous

  I am flat on my feet exhausted.

  Not only have I been working part-time at my friend Felicia’s flower shop over the last few weeks – because hey, wedding season – I’ve also been attending rehearsals every day and evening since we received our parts.

  As Theo had promised, I won the female lead in the play and have had to transform into Silvia. And let me tell you, it’s hard to do. I’m nothing like the character Theo has written. At least, I don’t think I am.

  Silvia portrays a woman who is self-assured. Prickly to a point of being brash and rude. I was born and raised in Indiana, by a mother who taught me to never truly show my feelings, but instead to suck it up and live with whatever happens.

  I’ve certainly grown a pair over the last year and have pushed myself out of my shell so that I don’t get walked over, but I’m still that passive-aggressive mid-Western girl.

  There’s a particular scene that Theo and I have been working on that I just can’t seem to get right. I’m supposed to act indignant and incensed by Chester’s behavior. I’m supposed to yell at him, right before the big make-out and bed scene.

  I’ve never yelled at anyone my entire life.

  Granted, the stage will go dark before anything happens, but I think I’m self-sabotaging the lines before it, because I’m so nervous that people are watching me.

  Not a good problem for a stage actor to have, is it?

  This is the third time we’ve tried practicing in front of the class and I just keep tripping over the words, forgetting the lines and messing the whole scene up.

  I think Theo’s getting a tad frustrated with me, as noted by his constant pencil tapping on the table converted into their director desk.

  “Okay everyone, let’s take a short break and start back at Scene four when we return. Fifteen minutes, folks. And then we’re back at it.”

  I’m just about to walk off with the other cast members when Theo halts my progress.

  “Joey? Can I talk to you for a minute?”<
br />
  My friend Maria gives me the side-eyes and giggles, before patting me on the shoulder reassuringly.

  “His bark is worse than his bite. You’ll be fine,” she whispers as she walks toward the exit, leaving me standing in the middle of the stage.

  I turn toward him and watch as he hops up on stage, dusting off the back of his jeans and crosses his hands over his chest.

  He assesses me for a moment, heaving a sigh as his broad chest fills and expands with air before he releases it. He’s wearing one of his Acting OUT branded t-shirts and it fits him snug and perfectly. He’s also wearing his glasses today which are so geeky-hot my ovaries explode every time he adjusts them on his nose.

  “What’s the problem with this scene, Joey?”

  Because I’m tired, I plop down on the black painted stage, the cue markers scattered around me. We’ve had to learn not only our lines, but where to stand, when and how to move, how loudly we have to project our voices. It’s a lot to remember.

  I offer a soft reply. “I don’t know. It’s just not coming to me.”

  Theo drops it in front of me, sitting cross-legged so our knees touch. I have so much repressed sexual energy that even this makes my panties wet.

  “Remember when we talked about pulling from your own life experiences in order to draw from that raw emotion?”

  I nod my head. “Yeah.”

  His places his palms on my bare thighs, in what I think is an encouraging gesture, but my skin breaks out in goosebumps from his touch. I want to grab his wrists and draw them up my legs, lay back on the stage and let him have his way with me.

  And then I shake my head clear of those devious thoughts, because a) we’re in public and b) he’s gay!

  My prayers have gone unanswered every night when I ask the man upstairs to do something about that.

  Theo scooches closer. I stop breathing.

  “You’ve got to dig deep and find it inside you,” he lifts his hand and taps his index finger on my boob.

  Well, not exactly my boob, but above my heart. But it’s close enough to my boob that my nipples do a happy dance and stand at attention.

  “Close your eyes.”

  Uh, probably not a good idea but I go with it and do as he requests.

  “Think of something that has made you so angry you just want to scream.”

  Centering my thoughts, I flip through my archives and immediately know what it is.

  Last night after class, Theo and I were hanging out in his apartment rehearsing together. His phone had been on the table and when he got up to go to the bathroom, an alert popped up on his phone.

  It was right there so I glanced at it.

  It was a message that popped up on Grindr. Oh my god, he was getting hookup alerts from interested men in the area!

  I had absolutely no right to be pissed, because that was his business and I knew he was gay. But the confusion I felt turned me upside down. All night long it felt like he was flirting with me. Sending me mixed signals and soft touches on my leg, or arms.

  By the time I returned to my apartment, my blood pressure was at an all-time high and I could barely breathe. I wanted to yell and scream and rail against the unfairness of this stupid attraction I have with him.

  Theo must see the tight lines that form across my face and the change in my body’s physical state, because he says,

  “That’s it. Now let it out. Yell at Chester.”

  I scream. But not at Chester. At Theo, my mother and myself.

  I let go of all the pent-up confusion and frustration over my unrequited crush. At how dumb I feel lusting after a guy that clearly never wants anything to do with me physically.

  I scream at my own self-loathing for letting my mom call the shots about my life and choices because I wasn’t strong enough to stand up to her.

  I yell at the top of my lungs.

  “You’re an asshole, Chester!”

  And then I open my eyes and slap Theo across the face.

  His response is electric. And unanticipated.

  He grabs me at the top of my biceps, pulls me into him, and kisses me hard. Thoroughly. Passionately.

  So hard I think my lips will be bruised.

  So hard I feel it all the way down to my toes.

  I let out a husky moan.

  And then I find myself flat on my back, as Theo covers me with his body and continues to kiss me.

  Oh my word, this is the best kiss ever.

  Maybe it’s from all the untapped emotion that has sprung like a leak from deep inside me, or maybe just the passion I’ve tried to keep hidden from Theo.

  Our tongues dance and quarrel, duking it out in a play for dominance. Theo’s abs contract underneath his shirt and my hands reach around to his back, sliding underneath the soft cotton and finding the strip of skin above his waistband.

  I think I hear him growl in pleasure over my touch and then I feel the pressure of his very thick and very hard length in the juncture between my legs.

  I’m so confused. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize that’s what Chester would feel toward Silvia. But Theo?

  It makes no sense to me. Is this turning him on?

  If so, how is that possible?

  The sound of laughter coming from somewhere behind the stage brings us both back to reality and Theo lifts his head, the humid air brushing across my wet lips.

  We stare into each other’s eyes and then a smile cracks open across his face.

  Pushing himself off, he gives me his hand and pulls me up with him.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  Theo gives me a wink, turns and walks off the stage where I’m left gaping after him wondering what the fuck just happened.

  My brain is foggy, and now that he’s gone, I wonder if it was all in my imagination.

  Do actors experience that kind of physical charge when acting out love scenes?

  Determined to find out, I decide I’m going to get to the bottom of things. Tonight, when we’re alone because I need to know.

  Is he just acting? Is he gay or not?

  Whatever he is, I just need to know for my dignity’s sake. So I can move on and stop my heart from potentially being hurt by this unrealistic crush.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Theo

  Clearing up any confusion

  Holy shit, what the hell happened to me today?

  I completely lost my composure after that scene on the stage with Joey.

  I chalk it up to being impatient over the long day of rehearsals, when Joey kept fumbling and would get stuck in the same spot, forgetting her lines. I wasn’t upset with her, because I was the one doing a poor job in helping her move through it.

  A good director will enable an actor to work through a scene, give them advice as to how to act out the lines. And when they get stuck, the director is supposed to provide direction around the obstacles in the actor’s way.

  But instead of doing any of that, I nearly mauled her in front of innocent by-standers.

  I was so cranked up when she finally let herself go, I lost my own control.

  I mean seriously, my body responded to that slap like a spark to a flame. It was the ignition on the rocket ship that sent me soaring up to space.

  It caught me off guard, and completely unprepared, for what that thrill of the sharp sting of her palm across my flesh did to me. It was electric, unscripted and erotic.

  Thankfully we only had an hour left in our rehearsal after that, and I was able to pull myself together enough to finish up the day. Once we worked out Joey’s resistance to the scene, we finished up the act and called it a day.

  Now I’m back in the apartment, Woody having been fed and walked, and I’m contemplating going over to Joey’s to see if she wants to continue rehearsing our lines together.

  Or just continue kissing. And maybe fucking.

  That’s all it takes for my resolve to weaken.

  Didn’t I just swear to myself that I wouldn’t pursue th
ings with her until after the show’s production?

  But my dick has other ideas. He likes the idea of a little pre-production show – inside of Joey, that is.

  He’d like to throw his confetti around to celebrate the upcoming opening night.

  My dirty dick thoughts are interrupted as Woody jumps off the couch at the sound of a knock at the door.

  I take a quick glance down at my shorts to see the semi-chub I got going on and try to think of a boner buster that will keep me from embarrassment when I open the door.

  Grandma in an old-lady swimming suit.

  Woody’s dog breath.

  Proctor’s hairy butt crack. Eww. That’s just nasty. Got an eyeful of that yesterday when he was leaning over painting a set prop. Some things can never be unseen.

  That did the trick. I can confidently open the door now without my dick shouting out his greeting.

  And just like that, his interest perks back up when I see Joey standing at the threshold, looking fresh from a shower and smelling like spring rain.

  She strolls past me with a “hey.”

  “What’s up? Didn’t get enough of me today?” I joke, but my smile fades when she turns to face me.

  “This is messing with my head. I’m so confused and need to know.”

  “Um, okay. Let’s hear it. What can I clear up for you?”

  Before I even have a chance to do or say anything else, Joey launches herself at me, her mouth covering mine, her lips blazing fiery passion.

  I do what comes naturally and pull her into my arms, securing one hand behind her head and the other at her lower back. I rub my thumb along the curve of her ass. And then I let my palm slide down and I squeeze.

  She’s a perfect handful and my entire body lights up upon contact.

  And her ensuing gasp is enough to remind my dick of his earlier dirty thoughts and I get instantly hard.

  Swinging her around, we land on the couch, the cushions catching our fall, and I’m on top of her, my length nestled between her legs. Which my dick particularly likes, and twitches when he feels the heat there.

  We kiss and suck and nip at each other until we’re out of breath. Joey suddenly stops and pushes me off her, which I don’t agree with, but move to allow her room to sit up.