It’s just a few doors down from the rehearsal space. In a few days, we’ll move rehearsals to the theater, and I’ll be standing on a real stage again.
I’ve missed being on the stage. I’ve missed the audience and the applause. As much as I appreciat
e what I’d achieved in cinema, I know being onstage will feel like being back home.
If only Aidan would stop torturing me.
I reach his door and knock. It’s slightly ajar, and the force of my knock pushes it open about an inch.
“Yes?”
He sounds distracted. I step into the office and close the door behind me. The space is bare, with only a simple desk and a chair. Aidan is leaning on the wall beside a small window with open shutters, scrolling through his tablet. He doesn’t look up when I enter but I sense the stiffening of his body.
Like I’m a poisonous reptile he’d rather avoid.
“Nice place.”
He doesn’t reply. He lifts his gaze to my face, his blue eyes conveying both irritation and dismissal without diminishing his beauty one bit.
“Oh look, it’s Cruella de Ville,” he says with faux excitement. “What do you want?”
I walk over to his desk and settle on the edge, facing him. “Can you be honest with me?”
He scowls. “Are you being serious?”
“Answer the question.”
“It seems a bit redundant for me to have to point this out, but I’m not the one who has a problem with honesty.”
I ignore his statement. “Do you sincerely think my performance is horrible?”
He watches me for a moment, his eyes measuring. “Will you pack up and leave if I say yes?”
“Maybe,” I shrug. “But you agreed to be honest.”
He runs a hand through his hair, tousling the waves. My fingers itch to smooth them back, but he’ll likely bite my hand off if I so much as touch him.
“Liz.” He sounds bored. “You either do the play or you don’t. If you want to leave, go. Don’t look to me to give you an excuse.”
“So, you can’t answer my question. You can’t tell me the truth, can you? Because then you wouldn’t have an excuse to bully and humiliate me all day.”
“Humiliate?” He laughs. “You want me to coddle you? Is that what you want? You want me to tell you how great you are? To flatter you and feed your ego?”
“That’s not what I want!”
“Good. Because you may get that in Hollywood, but not here.”
I take a step toward him. “You don’t want me to leave, do you?” He raises an eyebrow, but I continue. “If you did, all you had to do just now was lie and tell me how poor an actress I’ve become. I’d have left. But no, you want me to stay so you can lash out at me and call it direction.”
Silently, he pushes off from the wall and set the tablet down on his desk. He glares at me, then rubs a finger at his temple, like he’s tired of my presence.
Well, I’m not leaving.
I go to stand right in front of him. “Why, Aidan?” I whisper. “Does it turn you on to torture me?”
His eyes are burning. With less than an inch between us, I can feel the heat of his body. His scent fills my nose, a heady combination of mild cologne, body wash, and him. His chest rises and falls, and I’m fully aware that if I make even the smallest move, my body would brush against his.
Not that I’d mind.