Chapter 18

I scroll through the rest of my timeline in boredom as I wait for Sam. The acting challenges on TikTok, which were a mix of hits and misses, were something I enjoyed. One tiktoker was doing the scene from the movie Crazy, Stupid, Love when Hannah and Jacob meet for the first time at the bar. As each video on my fyp page was different, I scroll through the rest of them.

"Maya, Sam's here!" Yelled out mom from downstairs. Déjà vu. Only this time, no second date. Why didn't he call me? I've been waiting for an hour. I should know, that's how much time I spent scrolling on tiktok. I sit up, taking the sheets of paper off my bed and slowly going down the stairs.

I continue to walk down the stairs. Before I could speak, in front of me was a horrific scene: Dad and mom were chatting with Sam in a civil manner. No scolding, no scowling. He's laughing. My dad's laughing at whatever Sam is saying and it looked genuine. Sam is in jeans and a black shirt. The shirt fitted around his biceps, his hands were in his pocket as he listened to my parents and laughed. His smile was engaging, it made mom smile and dad chuckle. He's such a charmer. This is a nightmare. While his arms flex beneath his shirt, I stood there with a slack jaw. Dad and mom were dressed up: mom's in her special occasion red dress and dad's wearing his special black slacks with white button down shirt.

"Seems like dad is getting chummy with the boy you despise," Craig whispers to my ear.

"It's not chummy, he's probably testing him," I say while continuing to watch the scene unfold. Dad pats his arm with a laugh. An actual laugh, that looks genuine. I was shocked, my face can't relax from my frown.

"We would love to have your parents over for dinner sometime," Mom suggests to him, patting his arm.

"They would love that," Sam says with a nod and a grin. That is not necessary, whatsoever. The fact that I have to share the same stage as him, acting next to him. He can't have any more invites in this house if it's not dealing with us reading dialogue on paper.

"I can picture dad's face when he finds out his good daughter was making out with the neighbor boy at a party, his eyes will bug out and he'll get that crinkle in the middle of his head," Craig says from behind me while nudging my arms repeatedly.

"Shut it." I push him away. "You don't want mom and dad to know about you coming home drunk two weeks ago. At 4 in the morning." I had to sneak him in when he texted me with grumbled up words. I figured he was in the driveway when he drunk texted: pnlock the drrrrrrr. I had to heave his heavy body to his room with a bucket and water so mom and dad would think he was sleeping. He owes me this.

He glares, "you'll actually snitch on me?"

"You keep my secret, I keep yours." I smile and blink rapidly, holding out my fist. He seethes, rolling his eyes and bumps his fist with mine. "Good. So, we're gonna be in the living room practicing."

"Why not your room?"

"The living room is the neutral zone. And we need space."

"Whatever you say. Just no hand stuff on the couch," he shakes his head.

My jaw drops, "we're not-" before I can say something he disappears upstairs. I roll my eyes, walking down the stairs to announce myself. "Samuel. You finally show up."

"Maya, glad you could join us. Nice to see you all dressed up." Sam smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

I ignore his comment about my comfortable outfit of long sleeve shirt and black sweatpants, sucking in a breath I turn to mom. "Mom, you and dad look nice," I notice, "Date night?"

"Your dad' said it's a special one for us." Her grin grew wide as she wore her matching scarf. Dad nods and fixes his tie like he's going to work. "Dinner and a bit of dancing."

"Just dinner, no dancing," dad says with a head shake. Mom hits his arm playfully.

"We are going to bust a move," mom twirls and strikes a pose, I duck my head from her movements. Dad and mom only go out when dad got a bonus or mom saw an ad on tv for a discount, otherwise it's takeout every other Sunday. Looks like Dad got a big check this time.

"Hope you kids have fun," I tell them, imitating mom's mannerisms when I clap three times and heighten my voice.

"Cheeky." Mom gently shoves my head with a grin.

"Sam told me you two are partnered together for a new play. That must be exciting." Dad tells me, buttoning the top of his shirt.

"So exciting," I answer, clenching my teeth with a tight smile. "We are running lines tonight for our audition."

"He also told us he's giving you some pointers on your stage fright," mom says.

I turn my head to the side slowly, facing his direction. He grins that grin of charm and flirt. "Did he?"

"You know how shy she can be," Sam tells my parents, bumping his shoulder to mine.

"I'm not shy," I mutter with a head shake.

"We know. You're lucky to be partnered with him. Learn from him, I can't wait for us to see you on stage. If you're on the stage this time." She pats my arm, my face is blank and I blink twice. Thanks for the support, mom.

"We really should start going." Mom pushes Dad out the door. "There's frozen pizzas in the freezer, it takes only 23 minutes to bake." I nod at her instructions. "Keep an eye on it. Don't burn the house down."

"I won't."

"If anything, call us-"

"I know. I know. And go to the neighbors in case burglars come by and call the cops. Go, have fun." I shove them to the door.

"See you later. Love you." She kisses my cheek and leaves the house.

"Give our regards to your parents and take care of my daughter," Dad tells Sam, patting his shoulder.

"Will do," Sam says, throwing a thumbs up.

"Maya, don't stay up too late," he points at me with a hard look. "No drinking or smoking. Same goes for Craig."

"Love you too, Dad." I salute. He nuzzles my hair before he exits and the door slams shut when he leaves. I drop my shoulders, cringing at the scene earlier and take in a deep breath, clutching my stomach when I spin around, facing Sam. "You're giving me pointers. Really?"

He scoffs, "someone's got to assist your timidness." He bops me on my nose with his finger. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating. Was that Calvin Klein or Axe?

I sniff, clearing my throat and say, "You have a lot of cologne on." I wave the scent away.

"It's Calvin Klein, Hall," he shakes his head with a chuckle. He runs his hand through his hair.

Knew it. I look at him quizzically, pouting out my lips. It was fancy for tonight, he smells nice. The kind of scent "Were you going out as well and plans fell through?

"For your information, yes. Our faux date?" He reminds me.

"Right."

"I figured since it was canceled, we might as well get this over with."

I blink with a bored expression on my face, so we had the same idea. "Ok so I was thinking we do one scene from the play. I have printed out the script from screenplay dot com." I hand him one of my copies I printed out before he got here. I even highlighted the important scenes. Mainly the intimate scenes of Wendla and Melchior. If it's a possibility we get a callback. However I have my eyes set on Martha, I can sing The Dark I Know Well.

"You highlighted everything," he says while flipping the pages. "It's all in green."

"Just the ones we need to focus on for the audition. I was thinking of this scene where Wendla and Melchoir meet by the lake." I point at page 20.

"The lake?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh-huh. It's where Wendla is picking flowers and they have a heart to heart about dreams." I read off the beginning of the scene, setting up the atmosphere of what it says on the paper. When I was done, Sam's mouth had become tighter and he squints at the pages.

"Yeah," Sam mutters, clearing his throat and speaking his part. I glance up as he says the dialogue. His words hold with honesty, the way his face changes from confused as it softens, I almost miss my mark when he stops. I try to hide my face, reading the words of Wendla behind the paper.

"I can't hear you," Sam sings in a teasing tone. I grit the back of teeth, speaking louder for his case. I drop the paper and lick the corner of my mouth, continuing the dialogue. I wait for Sam to read his part. Silence. I snap my head up, he's staring at me.

"Your line."

"You know for someone that's shy, you're really good." He sounds honest, truthful.

I cough into my fist. "Thanks. Let's start with the song, Word of Your Body. Do you know the words?" I ask with a head tilt. He rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone and plays the instrumental version. I see he came prepared too. "There is a specific choreography to the song," I say. "A lot of hands touching. Caressing."

"I can handle it. Can you?"

Trying not to psyche myself, I roll my neck around. I clear my throat, open my mouth and I froze. I realized I've never sang in front of him, or in front of anyone. I'm usually by myself. My voice isn't the most melodious, I can carry a tune, it's not the greatest. Forget it. I begin singing the words of the first stanza, slow and low, closing my eyes.

"Maya, you need to sing louder, the audience can't hear you." He tickles my throat, my voice gets shaky and I let out an involuntary laugh.

"Don't do that!" I rub my neck and cough when I back away. "And there's no audience."

"A show is a show. Think of it as a pretend audience. Sing louder." He reaches out to tickle me again, I swat his hand again.

"Don't tell me what to do." I let out a sigh as he began it again. Ok, this is serious. "Ok, let's be serious." I open my mouth and begin the lyrics. My voice is shaky, I clear my throat, continuing the words and then I cough.

"This isn't working," Sam says with a head shake and an eye roll.

"It is, just give me some space." I take two steps backwards. I need to breathe from the scent of his intoxicating cologne.

"We're gonna play characters that have sex on stage, there's not gonna be a lot of space." He takes two steps forwards, raising his eyebrows.

I sigh, closing my eyes I begin again. I sound better, louder. Sam begins his part and his voice is perfect. Of course it's perfect, the control of the tone and the melody of Melchoir's feelings translates from the song. As we sing the chorus together, I squeeze my eyes tighter to concentrate on how I sing.

"Eye contact." He uses the crook of his finger, lifting up my chin. My eyelids betray me, I open them. His gaze is soft as he sings. My skin betrays me as the finger under my chin moves to my cheek. The fluttering in my stomach doesn't stop as our duet continues. His finger lightly brushes against my skin. My focus goes to his lips, the bridge of his nose, his long eyelashes. His brown eyes hold so many emotions. Withholding my whimper, he leans forward with parted lips.

"What are you doing?" I whisper. He doesn't stop.

"What do you mean?" His eyes become hooded, his hands caressing my face when the song ends. Is this his plan? He keeps playing with me.

"You know what I mean." I unintentionally lick my lips.

"Then why are you asking if you know?" Our noses touch, my heart might explode if he moves any closer.

"We're not at the kiss scene yet."

"We're building tension. You feel it, right?" My breathing is shallow when he moves in closer, licking his lips. Goosebumps rising on my forearms, his thumb doesn't stop his torturous touches. His smirk and his flirting.

"I'm hungry. Are you hungry? I'm gonna go...." I point my thumbs to the kitchen and back away. "Yeah." Walking over to the kitchen I hold my chest to get the air in my lungs back. That was close. I search for frozen pizzas. I open the freezer door, I spot two of the boxes. I hear his footsteps follow me, I don't look back. I fan my face from the heat, massaging my cheeks.

"Craig, which topping do you want?! There's meatlovers, plain cheese and cheese and pepperoni!" I yell from downstairs. I wiggle my arms and hands from the jitters he caused.

"Don't care! Just don't burn it!" He yells back.

I roll my eyes. "Any preferred topping, Samuel?" I hold up the boxes behind my head.

"Meatlovers, Maya," he tells me, the timber of his voice sending chills down my spine.

"I'll make both." Before I turn on the oven, I read the instructions on the back of the boxes.

I narrow my eyes reading the instructions "20 minutes, 5 minutes to cool down," I mutter.

"It says 20 minutes," Sam says with his chin on my shoulder, pointing at the box. His breath tickles my ear making me giggle.

"I can read." I shrug him off. I pull out the baking trays before I preheat the oven. Before I drop anything because of him.

"Just making sure you don't burn your house down." He needs to stop, has he ever heard of boundaries. I look back in a blank face, the preheat buzz sound goes off. As I open the oven door, I flip around, drumming my fingers on the kitchen counter, waiting for the pizza and this awkwardness to end. He still hasn't answered my question as to why he kissed me. Or why he's building tension now. I turn around to the oven, opening it slightly.

The cheese is getting to the right texture of melt. The meat and vegetables merge in the crust. Two more minutes. I turn back, he's still standing behind me with an unreadable expression. "That kiss between us was just a kiss, right? Nothing else?"

"Random," He snorts.

"Was it?" I ask. I want to know how he really feels. This teasing is giving me whiplash.

"It was a dare."

"You didn't have to. A kiss on the cheek is more of your style when it comes to me."

"A kiss is a kiss. It doesn't mean anything. People kiss all the time."

"If they're in relationships."

"Someone can kiss you and feel nothing."

My gaze sends downward, I clear my throat. It meant nothing. I got my answer. I can do this play and feel nothing. Heart out, head in. "You can sit on the couch and wait. It's almost done."

"I'm fine standing here." His hands stuffed in his pockets and smirks. My jaw clenches again.

The oven beeps three times. Pizzas are done. Being careful from pulling out the tray, I cut up the slices, placing them on each plate while it's hot. Craig comes down to the kitchen just in time, takes his plate and leaves. I hand Sam a slice, he takes it without another word and goes to the living room. I stay in the kitchen, eating my own slice before I took another and meet him in the living room. After we ate in silence we begin practicing the next scene with Wendla and Melchoir. I set up the scene, the exact scene where it happens by the lake. "You know what? Let's pause on this," Sam says.

"Why?" I ask.

"If we're gonna be working together we have to get to know each other." He takes the script from my hand and tosses it on my table.

"Ok. What do you want to know?" I lace my fingers together, facing him.

"What makes you tick. Your favorite movies. What made you want to be an actor. Your blocking on the stage. Your boundaries."

"That's a lot to know about me. Why don't I ask some questions about you?"

"Ask away. I'm an open book," he lays back on my couch in a resting pose.

"Ok, what's your favorite movie?" I ask an easy question.

"That's too easy. Ask me something deep. This isn't the view."

"We don't have to go so deep."

"We need to, to build a friendly intimacy."

"Ok. When was your first kiss?" Did I really ask that? I cringe, shutting my eyes tightly.

"I was 13," he answers smoothly.

"Oh."

"What about you?"

"Um. I think 13 too. It was during spin the bottle."

"Yeah, me too." It was with a boy named Skip. He bit my bottom lip and thought that was foreplay.

"Favorite pastime?"

"I like binge watching shows," I answer, "playing the guitar."

"I did see you do. Do you have one?"

"No, it's too expensive. Do you play any instruments?"

"The piano. First boyfriend?"

I laugh. "Ok. I don't know if it counts. Mark in the third grade. We held hands and it lasted for a week."

"It could. Relationships last for a week or longer. My first girlfriend was in ninth grade. Rebecca."

"Yeah. Rebecca." I remember. The first girl I was jealous of got to date him, he stopped noticing me until sophomore year when they broke up. Ringing my fingers, I sit up and scratch my scalp. "Why did you two break up, anyway?"

"We were 14," he says. I nod. "So you and Alex, huh?"

"Yes?" It comes out as a question.

"Mmmm," he turns his head away, clearing his throat. I frown, he's not... no.

"What's one thing you wouldn't think people would know about you?" I ask.

"You know those 'actors on actors' videos on youtube?" He questions.

I slightly open my mouth, "you watch those too?"

"I've seen a few of them," he boasts. "You watch them?"

"When it's award season and the videos drop, I get excited," I tell him, turning to face him with a smile. "I binge watched most of them."

"Yeah, me too."

"Yeah," I agree. We have something in common, it's surprising. "There's more to you than I thought, Rodriguez." I poke him gently on the shoulder. I got to see the minimal side of Sam, one where he doesn't think he's god's gift to the stage.

His smile spreads wider. "Ditto, Hall." Our gazes lock. My eyes are burning from our staring. I froze. He doesn't smile, I see his jaw clench. Breathing out a sigh of frustration. For the first time, I don't break eye contact. He leans in, I haven't realized how close we are on the couch. Our thighs are almost touching. I hitch a breath. He licks his lips, eyes wandering my face and back to my eyes. From the color of his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the length of his eyelashes, the shade of his lips, my hammering heart is rapid. I have to break eye contact. I definitely feel the tension. Every time he's around, I get tense. I notice my shoulders are high. I slouch them, rolling my eyes. He chuckles, I join. I guess he's right about one thing. He makes my stomach flip, the way he looks at me. I might combust if our staring continues. "Uncomfortable silence," he whispers.

"I don't hate it." I notice his gaze moves from my eyes to my mouth. "We should get back to the scene."

"We should." Neither of us move. What's on your mind, Sam? I think I know his next move, but I don't. I notice how his stare softens even more, tender. Wondering what he would think if I lean in. I should try. I inch forward. The front door opens, I back away, scooting to the other end of the couch and patting my heated face. What the hell? I turn my head to the front entrance as mom shuts it and removes her jacket and hangs it with frustration.

"Hi mom." I gulp and check the time, it's almost 10 pm. "Have a good time?"

"I'm going to bed." Dad mutters, jogging up the stairs.

"Sam, it's late." Mom tells him, "you should get home."

"Yeah I was on my way out. See you at school, Maya." He gathers his things without another word.

"Bye." His face is flushed, he does his best ducking his head, saying a good night to my mom and leaves. I wave a hand over my face and stand up. "How was dinner?"

"Fine. I'm gonna get some rest. Did you turn off the oven?" She runs her hand over face in a tired motion.

"Yeah. Mom, are you ok?"

"I'm tired. Good night, sweetie." She slowly walks up the stairs, hanging her head low. I slouch into the couch, touching my bottom lip. Some night.