Authors: Jessie K
At first, she was certain his distance was because he was fighting back his own feelings, having fully received her message. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked the stage, could feel the same predatory lust he carried the night they auditioned together.
If it wasn’t for her ridiculously imposed curfew, she would have stuck around to talk to him afterwards to ensure the feelings were definitely mutual. At the time, it seemed impossible for them to not be in harmonious sync.
But now she wasn’t so sure, and she was left feeling more exposed and idiotic than victorious. Maybe all the frantic masturbation during her rehearsals tainted her performance, and she came across as so overtly sexual, it turned him off and showed her incapability for the role. Maybe she had lost the innocence he once told her he loved about her.
But to be fair, he didn’t know anything about her, aside from intimate anatomy. They discussed art and passion, which was practically her entire life, but they didn’t delve into their respective dirty secrets.
He didn’t know she knew about her parents’ mutual affairs and the broken wine glasses every night in the formal dining room. She didn’t divulge her years of flirting with the razor and letting Dana’s brother and his older, creepy friends feel her up in the dark of their home theater in an attempt to feel connected to someone.
Lynn didn’t know his history or any of his dirty secrets. She didn’t know if he laid awake at night, wondering what happened to his stage livelihood or if some trampy actress, hellbent on success, had danced her stilettos across the bare tendons of his heart. She wanted to know these secrets, wanted to forge something beautiful out of their mutual brokenness. Every actor, the ones who really sold themselves to the craft, was broken.
But the simple fact was they didn’t—and couldn’t—share these snippets of their lives, no matter how badly she wanted it.
Ophelia probably killed it all. He probably was going to punish her with Chorus Member Number 87. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at the cast list and watch her future unravel under the newly sculpted nose of her mortal enemy.
“Lynn.
Lynn
.”
She blinked and shook herself back into the present. “Hmm?”
“You okay? You keep spacing.”
“Sorry, long night last night.” Lynn spied the cast list on Matthew’s door, and actively ignored it. “I’m terrified I shot myself in the foot over this audition and freaking Aria Levens is going to take my spot. Because that’s
my
role, Dana. He called me…”
“I know. It was so sweet.” Dana leaned against the wall with a sigh. “It’s seriously the most romantic thing ever. You two are like the modern day Romeo and Juliet, where he’s Leo DiCaprio and you’re whatshername—“
“Claire Danes.”
“Whatshername Danes and you two are doomed to have this passionate love affair that can never truly be. It’s all wonderfully tragic. Now go look at the fucking cast list.”
“Wow, Dana. Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”
She shrugged. “I’m a sucker for tragedies. Oliver said it was totally endearing because of my otherwise sweet and perfect disposition. He likes the juxtaposition of my interests. Isn’t that the most adorable thing ever?”
“It really is.”
“Hey.” Dana gave her a tight hug. “You are a million times the actress Slutface could ever hope to be. And that man has to be crazy about you. Look at you! I’m certain he has to say hundreds of Hail Marys every single day to purge you from his soul.”
“Or he hates me.”
“Nobody hates you.”
“You’ve known me since we were in pull-ups and pigtails. Everyone hates me.”
Dana grabbed her by the shoulders and squeezed. “No, baby girl. Not everyone is your asshole parents or my jackass brother’s friends, okay? You are incredible. We wouldn’t be besties destined to watch our asshole great grandkids squander their inheritance while we get wasted in the Caribbean with our pool boys if you weren’t the best goddamn thing to happen to me. And I’m pretty fucking awesome. Give the poor guy some slack. It’s dangerous. Danger is sexy, but it also doesn’t pay the bills.”
Lynn exhaled and dabbed at her eyes. “Don’t make me cry before I have to face the wicked witch.”
Dana kissed her cheek. “Have faith, Juliet. This is your story, no one else’s. Now go in there with your head held high and own whatever comes your way. If that whatever happens to be Aria Levens, I’ll help you kill her.”
“I love you to the grave.” Lynn hugged her tight and kissed her on the cheek, leaving a pink sparkling mark. “Tell Oliver he’s got some serious competition.”
“Ah, right.” Dana straightened her shirt and clasped her hands in front of her chest, very professional looking. “He wants me to inform you that he is willing to fight to the death, but in the event that entails too much blood, he’s willing to rock-paper-scissors for visitation rights.”
Lynn put her hands over her heart. “He’s perfect.”
“I know.” Dana grinned so hard it had to hurt. “Now, run! I can’t be late.”
Lynn didn’t run, because it was her senior year, Matthew’s class, and composure was needed. She made it to the door just as the bell rang, where the cast list was printed in large letters. Lynn forced herself to read it from the bottom up, letting each minor role—because no matter how many times he said it, this was high school and of course there were minor roles—reassure her when her looping L wasn’t listed.
Higher. Higher. Higher.
A tight ball settled in her stomach.
Higher.
She gasped. Right there, black and white, was her name. Next to Juliet. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, again, and she hurriedly wiped them away. The knot loosened and all she wanted to do was laugh.
This wasn’t just about Matthew. This was about her; this was her entire life, her final farewell to this stupid school and the incredible department that helped shape her in her darkest moments. And she came out on top.
“Seriously, it’s just a fucking play, Lynn.” Aria sneered from across the room. “No need to get all emotional.”
“Miss Levens, your tongue. Please watch it.” Matthew pointed to her with a ruler. “Only those who truly love the craft understand the honor of playing a role so important to them. Many congratulations, Miss Viggiani. I look forward to your performance.”
Lynn flushed red and settled into her seat in the front row. Not only was it the first time he spoke directly to her over the course of the week, but he also shot down the hoe. She offered a full teeth grin to Aria.
“I’m sure you’ll be amazing as the nurse, Aria. I hear fat suits have really come a long way.”
Aria scoffed loudly. Matthew sneezed, but Lynn had the sneaking suspicion he was covering a laugh.
“Ladies. Enough. Congratulations to everyone who came out to the auditions. It takes some serious
cajones
to get up on stage and lay it all out there. When you create art, it’s like hacking off part of your soul and offering it to the world. How many people trust the world to not take a crap all over them?”
Nobody raised a hand.
“Precisely. But that is what art is. That’s what theater is. You peel back your skin and offer yourself for the sake of beauty. There is nothing more powerful than that.”
“You are so right.” Aria oozed. She was leaned forward on her desk, chin propped in her hands, with a stargazing haziness settled over her. Lynn hoped she never looked that pathetic. “It’s one of the bravest things we can do as a people, right?”
Matthew walked around and sat on his desk. “There are lots of things that are brave. Running into burning buildings, facing a criminal with a loaded weapon, crossing the ocean to fight for a belief, standing up for what is right. Bravery is as multi-faceted and complex as we are as humans. Saying art is the bravest thing we can do isn’t entirely accurate, Miss Levens, but bravery also isn’t a contest. For some people, it is the bravest and most powerful thing they can do. For that, everyone should be proud.”
She cocked her head to the side with the same lusty smile. Lynn didn’t consider herself a violent person, but she would have gladly cut it off her face with a pair of dull scissors, given the opportunity.
“Now! The dirty ends of business.” Matthew rubbed his hands together. “Since this wasn’t a requirement, not everyone in class auditioned. I’m also looking at my assistant director and stage managers in here, so I obviously cannot dedicate class periods to rehearsals. And I believe we discussed private rehearsals at the beginning of the year, right?”
Everyone nodded. Tiny bubbles of excitement grew within Lynn. Private rehearsals. She was going to have private rehearsals with Matthew.
“Every week, rehearsals will run Tuesday through Friday. I’ll need everyone’s availability to work out scene schedules. Be forewarned, those of you with active social schedules, the last month of rehearsal will be full cast. The schedule was posted at the time of audition, so I don’t want to hear any complaining about it. You’re all big kids, reading is a cakewalk now, am I right?”
A snicker came from the back of the class.
“Exactly. Okay, I’m going to call you one at a time to come up here and discuss availability for individual scene rehearsals after school. And before anyone gets any crazy ideas.” Matthew pointed to all of them in a sweeping motion. “All of the monologue scenes will be rehearsed on the same night. Don’t think you’re going to be able to monopolize my time, excessive good looks, and endless pool of career-jettisoning advice from the other students.”
“Awww man!” Brad Smith piped up from the back. “I was hoping for some sweet hair care tips.”
Matthew ran a hand through his hair. God, how she loved when he did that. It was ridiculous, this little motion getting her so hot and bothered, but it did. She focused on keeping up her mask so no one else could see her melting at the sight of him. But god, it was hard.
“Conditioner, Mr. Smith. It’s not just for women. Now, I’m going to start with my choral members and go from there. Please come see me at my desk when I call your name. In the meantime, feel free to catch up on homework for your other classes, or, if I’m being a realist, discuss Homecoming with your neighbors. Just keep it down, or I’m going to assign a paper on the underlying themes of self-harm in Romeo and Juliet, got it?”
The class mumbled in response. He called up small groups at a time, diligently filling his calendar with scheduling conflicts and listening intently to any questions the newly casted actors had. Lynn loved watching him work, the way his whole body poured into whatever he was doing. Be it schedules or directing a student to a particular passage in the text, Matthew seemed to come alive whenever theater was involved.
Emily Bronte’s words filled her mind: “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” Was he also her Heathcliff? Probably not; the tragedy of that path was enough to turn anyone away. Nonetheless, she understood Catherine. No one else shared her passion the way Matthew did.
Theater was all of him, theater was all of her.
The way his features illuminated reminded her of the way her heart leapt and how joy filled her breath whenever she was waiting in the wings of a darkened stage, waiting to come alive under the hot lights.
Now she had this amazing opportunity to take someone as iconic as Juliet and breathe life into her, to metaphorically slice her open and take her craft to new heights. Working one-on-one with someone as talented and experienced as Matthew was a gift. She had learned so much from him during their audition over the summer, but to actually be coached and directed by him, someone who had graced the stages she dreamt of, was an experience beyond her wildest desires.
That they would be spending time together, alone, was the sweetest icing on her cinnamon bun. Even if Romeo was forced to be with her—whoever he was. After seeing her name in the coveted role, she had lost all interest in the rest of the cast—she would still be in close proximity to her soul’s mate. And surely Romeo would need bathroom breaks, or have a conflicting schedule on certain days. Lynn would ensure her schedule remained wide open.
As wide open as she was willing to splay her legs for him.
Lynn swallowed back the arousal and flipped absentmindedly through her tablet, looking over the latest math homework she knew she would not turn in. Anything to pass the time until his beautiful lips finally called her name.
“Miss Viggiani, our Juliet. My desk, please.”
His tone was even, but she needed to see his eyes. Matthew was an incredible actor. She had watched him shift his entire being on stage for a role. His classroom may as well have been one large stage, too. She needed to really look at him and see what he was feeling under all the bravado he demonstrated in class.
When she approached him, she noticed his eyes dip into the lacy crevices around her breasts, that may or may not have been intentional, and a thrill tripped through her. He wanted her. He had to. His hunger may have been muted, but she could feel him practically vibrating around her. How could she not? They were the same. She understood him.
“Is this wise, you and I working so closely together?” Lynn whispered.
Matthew twirled his pen twice before meeting her eyes. The silence killed her. These next several weeks were going to be either the best or worst of her life.
“I’m absolutely certain it is not.”
Lynn shivered.
PART TWO
Theater work was grueling. Several months had passed since Lynn had graced the wooden planks, black binder in hand, ready to shed her skin and become someone else, and the time away was evident. She endured group rehearsals with Aria, which were plenty and arduous, and with her Romeo, far from a plastic dolt, but still the mildly infuriating Aidan Nelson.
Matthew was full of incredible acting tips. At the end of the first week, her acting wings felt stretched and pulled, painful, but all for the best. What she didn’t have, however, was a lot of one-on-one time. Lynn assumed she would get a free pass from his No Individual Rehearsals rule, but he was adamant. Or so she thought, until Aidan began asking questions for their infamous balcony scene, referencing a previous rehearsal night that Lynn had not been a part of.