Big Apple Dreams (13 page)

“Ugh. Mara, tell me all about it later, okay? He can be such a pain!”

“Okay,” I said quietly, trying to slow my pounding heart.

Chapter Fourteen

I paused in doing my makeup, looking into my eyes in the mirror.

This can not happen.

Lizzy had left for work just as I was getting in the shower. She’d wished me luck with the reading I was doing with Evan. There was also some begging to record any acting that he might do.

I almost cheated on Chris. I hardly even had to think about it, that’s how swept away I got. That will not happen again today.

I silently coached myself through my thoughts a few times, firm conviction creating a slight frown where a smile usually sat.

Finally, I picked up my mascara brush and went back to work, having convinced myself that I could handle being alone with Evan, again. There was a tiny voice in the back of my mind that whispered something was wrong in my relationship if I could so easily want to be with another man.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I mumbled to myself, throwing my cosmetics back in their bag and putting it under the sink.

We don’t see each other at all,
I thought to myself.
All I need to do is go spend some time with him and this thing with Evan will fade away.

I worried I was lying to myself.

There was a knock at the door and I surveyed myself in the mirror, checking to make sure my red, button up shirt hadn’t slid up my back. Once I was satisfied that the hem was lying on my blue jeans, I left the bathroom and walked through the apartment to the front door.

“Hey
, Evan,” I said as I opened the door, putting on my best smile, so he wouldn’t know how put off I was.

“Hey,” he said, sliding past me. “Thanks for offering to read what I have.”

“It’s no problem,” I said, shutting the door and following him to the table.

He sat down on one side
, so I took a seat on the other, wanting to not sit close to him and make him think what almost happened was okay.

We sat and smiled at each other for a minute, a small awkward air growing between us.

“So . . . where do we start?” he asked.

“Why don’t you tell me about your plot,” I said, jumping right into the work of it.

“Okay. It’s, uh, a love story. There’s this girl who moves to France from America. She’s studying abroad, you know? And while she’s there, she meets a guy and they fall in love. But for whatever reason, they can’t be together, or something. I haven’t quite worked out all the quirks of it yet.”

“Because you want it to be different from what was written before?”

“Yeah.”

“So you have just the one scene ready, right?”

“Just the first draft,” he said, pulling a laptop from his backpack. “It needs to be edited and fixed up right, but the bare bones are there.”

“May I?” I asked, reaching for the now open notebook.

“Sure, let me get it opened up real quick.”

He clicked the mouse a few times after typing in a password and then slid it across the table to me, a nervous look in his eye.

“I’ll be honest with you,” I said, suddenly realizing what he needed to hear. “I won’t tell you it’s good, if it’s not.”

“Good,” he laughed shortly. “I need that.”

I smiled at him before turning to the screen, ready to see what he had. The scene was noted to be from the second act of the show, most likely one of the ending scenes. It depicted the main characters, finally declaring their love for each other and getting their happy ending. I read through it twice, a happy smile growing on my face the longer I looked it over.

“Okay,” I said after about ten minutes
.

Evan had gotten up
, while I was reading, helping himself to more of our leftover food in the fridge.

“How bad is it?” he asked, taking his seat again.

“Actually, I thought it was pretty good. You’re right about it needing to be looked over by an editor. I don’t know anything about that, so I totally agree,” I laughed. “The story sounds good, though. Is this the last scene of the whole show?”

“I think there might be one more after it, just showing a little of what happened to them after everything.”

“I think that could work really well,” I agreed, standing up and taking the laptop into the living space with me. “Could you explain some of these stage directions to me, though? I’ll go through them here like I was acting it, just to make sure they all flow well.”

“Sure,” he said, staying in his seat.

“This is a two person scene,” I laughed. “That means you have to come walk through it too.”

“Oh.”

He looked uncertain for a moment, looking at me with a somewhat sad look in his eyes.

It suddenly occurred to me that this could be very bad for my attempts to avoid any almost kisses again.

Stay professional! This is no different than any acting job or class.

He came over to me, standing on the other side of the room
with his hands in his pockets.

“All right,” I said, fighting the tremor in my voice that would reveal my nervousness. “So this says that she—I—run in from stage left. So, the couch is the audience. Let’s say I already ran in and you’ve followed me. We stop at . . .,” I stopped to check his notes again. “Center stage. So we’re in the middle of the room now.”

I walked to the center and waited for him to join me, the knots in my stomach twisting as he came within touching distance.

We went throug
h the scene easily, close together the whole time. I felt bad for rushing through things and not reading the lines with him, but it was getting harder to not bring up what happened. It didn’t help that the scene directly dealt with hugging, kissing, and declarations of feelings. 

“And then the scene blacks out on them kissing,” I said, finishing out the blocking notes.

“Thanks,” he said roughly, our fingers brushing as he took the computer from me. His jaw clenched and released several times as he walked away.

“No problem,” I said, surprised by his sudden gruffness.

“I have to go,” he said, stowing his things back in his bag and picking it up without looking at me.

“Okay,” I said, confused by what I’d done to upset him. “Do you want to come to class this weekend?”

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging with his back still to me. “I won’t know until that morning. Thanks for your help.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked the few steps back to the door, opening it and leaving without saying a single word.

I stood in the living room, staring at the closed door in shock. Evan had never acted like that around me before. I’d worried that things would be uncomfortable because he’d try to kiss me, again. Now it felt like he was mad at me for something.

What did I do? He seemed fine right up until the end . . . Maybe talking about the kiss in his play made him remember last night and he was embarrassed. At least I didn’t have to talk to him about it directly.

I sat down on the couch, still feeling like I’d done something wrong. I couldn’t figure out what would make him mad enough to leave like that, though. Finally, I decided to not worry about it and find something else to do.

“So how did it go with Evan?” Lizzy asked after her shower.

She’d had a busy shift at work and immediately got in the shower to relax when she got home.

“It was fine,” I said with a smile. “He’s got a good scene written down. I think the rest of the show will be a success, as well.”

“Great! Will you finally tell me what it’s about then? He’s been taunting me with it for a year now.”

“It’s a love story,” I laughed. “About a girl who moves to France and falls in love.”

“Really?” She turned to look at me, a surprised smile on her face as she towel dried her hair. “I would have thought he’d write about something more . . . manly?”

“Love can be manly,” I chuckled.

“I guess you’re right,” she giggled. “I just remembered I have something to tell you.”

She joined me on the couch, hair brush in hand. She’d changed into her pajamas before leaving the bathroom earlier, matching my own shorts and tank top.

“Tell away,” I said, turning the television off.

“This guy came into the restaurant today. Oh. Em. Gee. Mara, you would not believe how handsome he was!”

“Keep going,” I said, turning towards her and tucking my legs underneath me.

“Okay, so there was a super long wait, right? So he was standing by my station for almost an hour.”

“Did you talk to him at all?”

“You bet I did! If I wasn’t busy with something else, I was talking to him.”

“He didn’t have a date with him?”

“No, just his mom. It was her birthday and Olive Garden is her favorite restaurant, so he took her out. How cute is that!”

“Okay, tell me more,” I said excitedly.

“She was so nice, too. Anyway, their table finally was ready and I had to send them upstairs, which was sad. But then, when they were leaving, he slipped this piece of paper onto the stand, right by my hand!”

She picked her bag up off the floor and retrieved the note.

“He gave you his number!” I squealed in excitement with her.

“He said it was nice talking with me before
, and then he—get this—winked at me. I always thought that was the cheesiest thing in the world to do, but when he did it I was sold.”

She beamed, happiness exuding off her as she looked down at the paper again, holding it like it was the map to the lost city of Atlantis.

“When are you going to call him?”

“I don’t know,” she said, tucking the slip back into the safety of her purse. “Isn’t there like a rule you have to follow
, or something? I don’t want to come off as desperate.”

“He gave
you
his
number. He wants you to call him,” I laughed. “You don’t want him to think that you’re blowing him off.”

“You’re right,” she said in horror. “Oh my gosh. I don’t know when to call! What am I going to do?”

“Calm down,” I giggled. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “I’ve never had anything like this before. I’ve been on a few dates, but no one ever stuck around long enough to put up with all the crazy. This is like something out of a fairytale for me. I can’t screw it up.”

“Call him Saturday then,” I said. “That gives you tomorrow to make him wait—while you’re working, I might add—and then you can relax on Saturday.”

“Will that be too long, though?” she asked nervously, biting her thumb nail.

“No,” I said with conviction. “Most everyone is working on Friday. He probably won’t be free to talk until Saturday either.”

“Oh, Mara,” she sighed, laying her head on my shoulder. “Is this how you feel with Chris?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you get excited just thinking about calling him? Do you replay everything you say to each other in your head?”

I thought about what she was asking, trying to remember if I’d ever really felt that way. Only one person that had done that to me came to mind.

“Yes,” I said softly, hoping she wouldn’t notice the lie in her excitement.

Chapter Fifteen

“Have you been able to get hold of Evan?” I asked, pulling my plain black shirt over my head.

“Not yet,” Lizzy said, pulling her eyelash curler away from her face. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately.”

“He did seem upset about something the last time I saw him,” I said uncomfortably.

And I’m pretty sure it’s something I did.

My acting class was starting in a little over an hour. I’d hoped that Evan would call me and let me know if he was going to show up or not. When he didn’t, I tried calling
, but couldn’t get him to answer. Apparently Lizzy was being ignored, as well.

“Maybe he just has some work stuff he needed to do. They have extra practices every now and then.”

“It’s also a double show day,” I agreed, trying to relax some. “I guess I’ll wait and see if he shows up at the studio. I texted him the address just in case.”

“I’m sorry I can’t come with you,” she said, her attention focusing in on her makeup job again.

“No you’re not,” I laughed.

“You’re right,” she said with a wide grin. “I’d much rather be going out with Aiden.”

“I told you he wouldn’t mind you waiting until today to call,” I said, sitting by her on the couch.

“I’m glad he didn’t ask me out for a later day,” she giggled. “I feel like it’s special, because we’re going out right away.”

“Have fun,” I said sincerely. “You deserve to have a nice man in your life.”

“I will. And thank you.”

She finished her work and turned to me, smile still plastered on her face.

“Don’t worry about Evan, okay? He been going through some stuff, before he even met you. I think he needs to work through it all. Then he’ll be fine. It’s not anything to do with anyone but him.”