She had to do something to lighten the moment before they got carried away. “I was thinking…” Jenna muttered, stepping back from Trevor. His hand dropped, and she shuddered without his touch.
He threw his shirt back on, and she shivered in the void he left behind.
“It’s not that I’m great or anything but Shakespeare just makes sense to me. The show’s coming up fast, so uh, if there’s anything you want to go over…” Jenna shrugged and sipped her drink, hoping steaming hot coffee might cool her off.
Trevor’s face changed as he processed her words, no doubt trying to understand why she was shutting down. He bristled. “Do you think there’s something I should be working on?”
“No, no.” Jenna lifted her gaze to him. “I didn’t mean that at all. But sometimes I like to run lines with someone else. It brings a fresh perspective.”
“You run lines with someone else?” He stepped closer to her.
The depth of his voice, the way he focused on her then…all of it made Jenna think he might be jealous.
“I don’t mean someone other than you.”
His gaze was heavy on her, and she squirmed.
“I mean when I practice with my coach. In class, you know?”
Trevor raised his eyebrows at her, and she stumbled forward.
“I mean, you could run them with me instead of rehearsing alone.” She was tripping over her words, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Not that I think you’re ever alone.” Jenna’s cheeks burned. She looked up at Trevor, desperate, and the side of his mouth turned up slightly, putting her somewhat at ease. Her shoulders slumped and she had a strange, heavy sensation in her core. She felt like she was cheating on him…it was all too bizarre.
“Okay.” Trevor scratched the scruff on his chin.
“What’s okay?” She fought for coherent thought.
“I’d love to work on a soliloquy with you. Anything in particular?”
Jenna pulled herself together, making her way back to the couch. She sat, picking up her pencil and script. She shrugged, playing with the pencil, twirling it then bit down on the eraser end and noticed Trevor staring. He looked away and cleared his throat.
“Maybe your, ‘To be or not to be’?” She looked at him sideways, gauging his reaction.
“You do get right to it, don’t you?”
“Stupid idea.” Jenna waved off the idea with her hand. “Sorry. Let’s just plow through the nunnery scene.”
Suddenly the words fell effortlessly from his mouth. “ ‘To be, or not to be: that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; no more…’ ”
Jenna was lost in his words. He spoke with ease, and compassion, and grace. He was as good as any Hamlet had ever been…no…better.
When he reached, “ ‘And lose the name of action,’ ” Jenna jumped from her seat and threw her arms around Trevor’s neck. She pushed herself against him tightly, and Trevor wrapped his arms around her.
He pulled back, smiling. “C’mon kid, let’s get to work.”
She nodded, her heart racing.
Chapter Seven
For hours, Jenna and Trevor sat side by side on Jenna’s tiny couch. They ripped apart every scene Jenna had and dissected his soliloquies. For the first time in a very long time, Trevor had shrugged off Caspian, leaving him behind like footprints in the snow, and he felt freer and happier because of it. By one in the morning, he was elated and exhausted. He looked over to see Jenna had fallen asleep. She leaned back against the futon cushion, but she didn’t look at all comfortable—what she did look was beautiful. Too beautiful.
He needed to leave.
Trevor stood and stretched to his full height. He grabbed his script and glanced at the door with the four deadbolts. If he left—which he should—it would mean she would be here, asleep, with an unlocked door and no doorman downstairs. Crap. Energy coursed through him, and now he was fully awake. He shoved his hand into his pocket, fishing out his phone. He scrolled through his texts. No message from Maggie. Not that he really expected one, it wasn’t like they checked in with each other, but…shouldn’t they check in with each other? Shouldn’t two people who were planning to, someday in the future, spend their lives together, check in with each other? Tell the other person they were okay? That they left the gym and made it home unscathed? Or…that they were going to spend the night in the apartment of their very sexy costar…?
Trevor looked at the deadbolts again. As a man, it was his job to protect those who needed protecting, so there was no way he could go and leave her with an unlocked door. Of course, he could wake Jenna and she could lock up behind him but it was late and his driver was certainly asleep and getting a cab in this neighborhood at this hour—oh, fuck it. Who was he fooling? The God’s honest truth was he didn’t want to go.
His fingers stalled over his phone screen—he should text Maggie to let her know where he was—but it was late. Too late. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and glanced around the apartment. Sure, Jenna would be pissed if she woke to find him there, but there was no way he was going to slip out and leave her door unlocked. Let her be angry. Let Maggie be pissed. He wouldn’t do anything inappropriate and this was the logical, reasonable, mature decision. Leaving was just too unsafe. If the boyfriend showed up, Trevor would explain his reasons for staying. Any man worth his weight would agree with Trevor’s actions. Yes. He would stay. Trevor nodded to himself. His impulse was right; it was his motive he doubted.
As carefully as he could, he slid Jenna down on the couch. He pulled a blanket from the pile on the floor and covered her. She murmured and smiled in her sleep and Trevor could have stayed there forever, watching over her. But what he needed was sleep and distance. He pulled another blanket and pillow from the pile and made himself a bed on the floor, as far away from Jenna as possible. As he pulled the blanket around himself, he caught a whiff of her—she smelled like clean, fresh herbs. It was the aroma he had tried to ignore while they sat side by side on the futon.
“Her shampoo,” Trevor mumbled, pulling the blanket higher. With thoughts of her bright eyes and coy smile, Trevor drifted to sleep.
****
Trevor woke to find Jenna on the couch, looking at him. He sat up quickly, expecting holy hell. Instead, she smiled.
“Well, I guess we’ve answered that age-old question: did Hamlet and Ophelia ever spend the night together…?” She stretched, uncrossed her legs, and stood. “Coffee?” She pulled at her t-shirt as she asked.
“Sure.”
“Black, I know.” She crinkled up her nose.
Trevor could barely contain the excitement he felt waking up after spending the night with Jenna. He liked it. Actually, he liked it way, way too much, which could be rather evident if she noticed. He waited for her to look away before he pushed the blanket off his body. He drew his leg up, resting his arm on it casually, hoping the change of position would offer some camouflage.
Jenna walked to her window and opened the shade. “Huh, snow.” She turned to him. “We haven’t had much yet this year. I love the snow. You?”
Trevor thought about how much he hated trudging through the filthy New York snow, slipping on the sidewalks, and being splashed as cars rushed through the slushy puddles. There was only one thing he could say… “Yeah, I love it too.”
Damn. How easily those words slipped out. He had never said he loved anything, or anyone, ever before. Not even Maggie.
Jenna nodded along, enthusiastically. She stood there by that window, the bright light reflecting off her hair. Trevor thought about her father. Was she lonely? No, look at her, she could be with anyone she wanted, whenever she wanted. But yet she wasn’t. She was living here. Alone. Without even a cat. He ached for her loneliness. He understood it.
“How about we go play in the snow?”
Jenna turned to him, smiling. “Really?”<
br />
“Really.”
Her exuberant mood suddenly darkened. “I don’t know.” She gazed back out the window.
“You want to play alone?”
She shook her head.
“So then, let’s go.”
Now under control, Trevor stood up and crossed to Jenna. He leaned on the opposite side of the window. She looked so beautiful in the soft light, he began to lose his battle with restraint, once again. For a moment, all he could imagine was turning her to face that wall she was resting against, his body pressed up hard against hers—one of his hands flattened against the wall, the other stroking her beautiful face and hair as she leaned back toward him. He imagined turning her around, tucking her into a sultry cocoon he created with his forearms pressed up against the wall, her body willingly trapped by him…her giant eyes, hiding nothing, telling him it was all up to him.
“Trevor?” Jenna eyed him curiously.
Trevor shoved his hands into his jeans quickly and adapted his best carefree demeanor. “Yeah?” He smiled, mentally counting to a thousand, wondering if he would need to make a quick exit. He took a deep breath, fighting his desire, not wanting to go anywhere.
She cocked her head, squinting.
“Look, Jenna, I’m not talking about what color our children’s eyes will be.”
She winced at his words. He lifted his hand, brushing back a piece of her hair that had fallen across her face. She closed her eyes.
“But Maggie…”
Trevor chuckled. “I promise, Maggie has no interest in playing in the snow.”
She looked away.
“Jenna. I’m just talking about having some fun. Snowmen and snowball fights.” And that was the truth. Because no matter how much he enjoyed being with her, nothing could happen between them.
“Snowball fights?” Jenna’s mood changed again and her eyes flew open, wide. She raised an eyebrow in a dare.
“Scared?”
“I come from upstate. We have snow in August.”
“Doesn’t mean you can hold your own in a snowball fight.”
“I had a nasty boy living next door.” Jenna placed her hands on her hips. “You know the Christmas movie where the elf has a snowball fight? I’m just saying I think I can hold my own.”
“Never saw it. But I’ll take that as a challenge.”
“Wait, you never saw it?”
“Nope.”
“It’s a Christmas classic. That’s un-American. We need to rectify this, stat.”
“Okay. I’ll make you a deal. After the snowball fight, if you win, we watch the movie together.”
“When?”
“Tonight.” Trevor’s pulse quickened, his heartbeat in his throat.
Jenna chewed her lip as she processed his suggestion. “Okay.” She crossed her arms in front of her.
“Really?”
“It’ll probably be good for us to build a friendship offstage. It’ll carry onstage too.”
A searing pain shot through Trevor’s gut. Why did he feel so defeated when he got what he wanted?
“Wait. It’ll never happen, but what happens if you win?”
Trevor smiled at her. “We watch the movie then, too.”
Jenna grinned.
****
While Trevor ran home to change, Jenna took longer than she meant preparing to go play in the snow. She threw on her favorite jeans and t-shirt, and piled on a warm fuzzy white sweater. She tied up her boots, and although she didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, she added just a touch of lip gloss.
At eleven, her door buzzed. “I’ll come down,” Jenna said into the intercom. She made one final pass of her apartment, grabbed her coat, stuffed her wallet and lip gloss into her pocket and then headed out. It took a good three minutes for her to lock her door, because she double-checked each lock as she went. She turned and nearly bumped into Trevor.
“Oh.” Jenna stood back, her heart pounding. “How’d you get in?”
“Someone was leaving. I grabbed the door.”
She nodded. “You didn’t have to meet me at the door.”
“Of course I did.”
Jenna moved back one more step and landed flat up against her door. Trevor stood too close, unnerving her. She bit her bottom lip, looking down at her boots. The air between them was charged and Jenna took a moment to calm her breathing. They were just two co-workers, spending some time together. Playing in the snow. That was all.
“My car’s waiting.”
And just like that, the fuse blew on the electric current running between them. “Your car?”
“Yes.”
He spoke with such cockiness, Jenna wanted to throw something at him. Here she was, preparing to sell her eggs so she could make enough money to stay in the city, and more importantly, keep her sister from working at the laundry business, and he was trying to impress her with a car. Were the rich really that out of touch with the rest of the world?
Jenna shook her head. Maybe she should pretend to be sick? No way. He’d offer to get her soup or something and make his way back into her apartment. Sighing heavily, she turned and clumped down the stairs, muttering as she went. He held the apartment building door open for her, and she walked out onto the street.
As soon as she saw the freshly fallen snow, her mood brightened. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes,” Trevor answered, smiling at her.
Jenna fidgeted in her boots. Was this all a big seduction game? Did he really think she would be the next girl to throw herself at Trevor Hughes? Was he that guy who kept a girlfriend but had fun on the side? Was he looking for one of those lame theatre romances that lasts until opening night when everyone gets drunk and hooks up and gets pissed off for the remainder of the run? Jenna set her jaw. That would not happen to her. And as far as anything that might last longer, that wasn’t on the table. Not even with a normal guy, let alone someone who no doubt disposed of women with more frequency than the average person flushed the toilet. And it probably meant about the same. She sighed.
Since she wouldn’t fall for his seduction game, she acquiesced and climbed into the back of his black luxury Town car. The driver closed her door, and Trevor slid in.
Jenna leaned back against the heated seats. “This feels nice,” she murmured.
Trevor smiled. “Maybe cars aren’t all bad, huh?”
Jenna shrugged.
“Where to, Mr. Hughes?”
“Central Park, please. Fifth Avenue entrance.”
Jenna had an odd reaction to the sound of the name “Mr. Hughes.” She had worked so hard to consider Trevor just an average guy, she’d nearly forgotten he commanded respect in the world. She sneaked a peek at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Concerned?”
“What?” Jenna sat up straight and pulled off her mittens. The car was too warm.
“About the snowball fight.”
“Oh.” She tossed her head back and smiled, despite…everything that was crowding her brain. “Not the slightest bit. You?”
“Nope.”
They drove in silence for another fifteen minutes, and Jenna stared out the window at the city. “It’s so beautiful, it looks like it’s dusted in powdered sugar.”
Trevor laughed. “That is one insatiable sugar jones you have.”
“Here we are, Mr. Hughes. Central Park.”
Trevor slid forward in his seat to talk to the driver. “Thanks.” He looked at Jenna as he spoke. “It shouldn’t be long until I destroy Ms. Joyce, so hang tight. We have a lunch reservation at twelve-thirty.”
She looked down at her clothes. “I’m not really dressed for lunch.”
“Not to worry. This place is cool. Besides, I think you look terrific.”
Jenna’s face flushed. “Uh, thanks.” Were snowballs in the park followed by lunch regular stops along his path to seduction? She shook her head. Look at him. Wavy messy brown hair, the slightest scruff covering a really strong jaw, bright, smart eyes…he didn’t need to s
educe anyone—women threw themselves at him. And he certainly wouldn’t work to seduce the likes of her. Maybe he just wanted to take her to lunch. Jenna’s heart lurched a bit. “Where are we going? For lunch?”
“Sushi.” When he smiled, slight wrinkles formed around his eyes.
“Sushi?”
“Yeah. The way you tore into that seaweed yesterday, I thought it was a safe bet. And based on your phone and your vintage jacket”—Trevor touched the collar of her jacket as he spoke—“you seem into retro. I thought you’d find this place cool.”
“Oh, uh, thanks. That was very…thoughtful.” Jenna fought the urge to take his hand. Instead, she smiled.
Trevor smiled back.
****
It didn’t take long for Jenna to have a pile of snowballs waist high. Problem was, so did he. Trevor looked at Jenna, caught in a dilemma. Of course he would let her win, but how to do it without her knowing was the catch. A woman like Jenna would hate to be babied and yet he had an incredibly strong desire to baby her.
“All right,” she sang out, the happiest Trevor had ever seen her. “Prepare for your quick demise.”
She picked up a snowball and tossed it at Trevor. It hit him square in the chest. Okay, she had pretty good aim. This could be a fairer fight than he anticipated.
Trevor returned a shot that hit her on the back when she turned to run.
“Not good enough,” she called out, tossing two snowballs simultaneously.
“You’re ambidextrous,” he shouted. “That’s not fair.”
“Not ambidextrous, it’s a perk of playing piano. Both hands do what I ask.”
Trevor shrugged off his very inappropriate thought as she tossed another snowball and another, each hitting him again in the chest. Then she threw another, clocking Trevor on the jaw. He dusted the snow off his scruff.
To Be or Not To Be: The Actors Page 8