by Jodi Jolan
“Holly,” He turned to me, and the sound of his name on my lips brought a smile to my face, despite everything. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, the night of the performance. You remember?”
“How could I forget?” I replied, a wan smile on my face.
“I didn’t know what to say to you then,” he admitted, speaking quickly, like he’d been rehearsing these words all the way over to my place. “I was so…I didn’t know if what we had was just me going after something I couldn’t have or if it was just because of the play or if it was something more than that, you know? You kept pushing me away and I was confused about what the hell you were actually looking for. So I backed down.”
My breath hitched in my throat. If I had screwed this all up because I had managed to convince myself-”
“But after the performance last week was done I told myself that I’d give myself seven days to figure this out,” he looked up and into my eyes – and took my hand, squeezing my fingers between his. “Seven days. To see if you were still on my mind even when the play wasn’t.”
“And?” I prompted him, hardly able to keep the thrill out of my voice.
“You were.” he beamed widely. “Fuck, Holly, I couldn’t get you out of my mind this entire week. Being apart from you has been a fucking nightmare. I don’t know how many times I thought about driving over here and marching up to your apartment and just-”
He cut himself off, shaking his head.
“I guess that’s for another time, right?” He remarked, and I glanced up at the clock on the wall. Much to my disappointment, he was right – we would have to leave it for now.
“So, I thought I would come down here and ask you to be my date for the evening?” He proffered me his arm. “Oh, and tell you that you look smoking fuckin’ hot in that dress.”
“Why, thank you,” I giggled taking his arm. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
“So…what happens now?” I wondered aloud. “I mean, after the play and all-”
“We’ll figure it out,” he promised me. “I know it’s a lot to take on but…fuck, Holly, I just want to be with you. Not as your leading man or someone you work with. I want to be with you.”
“I want to be with you, too,” I murmured in response, and I knew that the words were true as they came out of my mouth. I didn’t want any more pretence between us, any more of us hiding bits of us from each other. No, from now on, it was the two of us together, against the world (well, at least the critics). And, as I went to change into my fancy shoes while he held my hand to keep me from toppling over, I knew that this was the right choice.
I stood back up, a few inches higher than before, and laughed when I realized I could look straight into his eyes. He grinned, and grabbed my face and kissed me suddenly; in my new heels, I was sure that kiss was going to knock me straight on to my ass, but I hung on to him and held him close and sure enough I stayed on my feet. He pulled back and pressed his forehead to mine for a moment, inhaling deeply, like he was reminding himself of every part of me.
“You ready?” I murmured.
“Ready,” he promised, and with that the two of us headed out the door and to the first night of our play together.
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