The Hate Between Us, page 15
The girl sitting closest to him leaned in to touch his eyebrow piercing. This managed to steal his attention, and the room abruptly cooled by a few degrees. I fought to stop my mouth from forming a downward line as the thought of my fingers touching his piercing crystalized in front of my eyes. I almost shook my head at myself.
“Sorry, girls, but you’ve got to leave. Turner and I have practice.”
One of the girls sized me up, then when she decided I wasn’t any threat to her, sent me a smile full of pity. “Oh, that’s too bad,” she cooed to him. “Can we watch?”
His lips twitched with amusement. He pulled the hem of his beanie down his forehead. “Not today. We have to be alone so we can focus.”
The girl sized me up again, and envy took over her features. I didn’t know what she had to be envious of, since Jason and I spending time together had zero romantic connotation.
“You’ll call me, right?” she asked him.
“Sure,” he said in a tone that left no doubt he had no intention of ever calling her. In reply, she left a long kiss on his cheek. I wrinkled my nose.
“See you around, Jason,” the other two said, and they all moved to leave, directing one last glance at me on their way out.
Jason’s smile lasted for about as long as it took the last girl to slid off the table. His gaze didn’t even move in their direction despite their efforts to make him watch them by swaying their hips. Instead, he was looking at me. I hoped my cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt.
He cocked his brow. “You came early.”
I stopped across from him and deposited the books on the table. “So did you.”
He nodded at the script in front of him. “I wanted to go over a few scenes alone, but then they showed up.” The way he said showed up made it sound as though he wasn’t happy about it.
Huh. I’d never wondered before if Jason enjoyed all the attention he received from girls. He was a magnet for female attention, and wherever he went, heads turned. Seeing him with a new girl every week, one would assume he was basking in it.
“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”
“Sometimes, I just want to be left alone.”
My heart palpitated. I wanted to know more. I wanted him to elaborate and open the door to allow me into his world, but I snuffed out that ridiculous thought quickly.
“I’m surprised. I always thought you enjoyed all the attention girls give you.”
“Sure, it’s nice, but they don’t know me. They want what’s on the surface, not on the inside.”
“And what’s inside you?”
He watched me closely. “And aren’t you curious?”
I dropped my gaze, my cheeks flaming. Jerk.
He motioned at the books I’d picked. “More books?”
“The more, the better.”
He stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “You’re really trying to get the hang of this, aren’t you?”
“Is that so surprising?”
“You didn’t leave me with the impression that you’re dedicated to the craft.”
I knew he was right—to some outsider it might’ve looked that way before—but that still didn’t lessen the sting of his words. “Maybe you were too quick to judge.”
“Or maybe you just didn’t try that hard.”
“Or maybe nothing can satisfy the big, perfect Jason Adams,” I repeated my earlier words to him.
He folded his arms over his chest, his muscles bunching under the tight material of his sleeves in a captivating way. “Back up your words first, then we can talk.”
I sighed and massaged my temple with two fingers. “Thanks as always for the vote of confidence.”
Ignoring my remark, he grabbed the book on top of the stack. He studied the title. “The Art of Emotions.”
“Have you read it?”
“Yeah.” He tossed it back on my pile of books.
“I’m currently studying how to act out emotions like they’re my own, and this book came recommended. I hope it’s good, because I’m struggling with this.”
“It’s good. Why are you struggling?”
“Because just when I think I have some emotion pinned down, it turns out I can’t let it out that well.” I mumbled into my chin, “Surprise, surprise.”
He rested his elbow on the back of his chair. “It all comes down to understanding. Trying to relate to characters.”
“But what if they have a completely different personality from mine?”
“Then you try to put yourself in their shoes.”
“It sounds so easy when you say it like that, but it’s not easy at all.”
“I never said it was easy. Do you have a hard time understanding Chloe?”
I blew a stray strand of my hair off my face. “No, I don’t have a problem understanding her. As I told you, we share something similar. Her challenge was cancer. Mine . . .” I motioned at my legs. “But I have trouble with other . . . stuff.”
“Like what?”
My cheeks warmed, and I wished the conversation hadn’t taken this direction. My gaze went over the books, the shelves, even the clock on the far wall—anything not to look at him.
“Like love. Chloe loves Nathan so much, and sometimes, I feel like I can’t express it adequately. Or sufficiently.”
“You expressed it adequately two days ago.”
I snapped my gaze to him. My heart wanted to leap out of my chest. “You really think so?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and a crease appeared in his forehead. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t. But since you’re struggling with that, we should focus on the most emotional scenes between Chloe and Nathan first. Work through them one by one.”
“Okay.” My fingers tangled together nervously. Those scenes were also the heaviest on touching. “There’s also the thing with physical contact.”
“Physical contact? What do you mean?”
“I have a hard time getting used to it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not used to you.” I pulled at the cuticle of my thumb. “I’m not used to . . . guys.” My face flamed red. I already regretted saying anything.
He leaned his elbows against the table, his clothes rustling with the sudden movement. “Why?” he repeated.
“Don’t act like you can’t guess. See this?” I motioned at my wheelchair. “It’s not like boys are lining up to offer me any kind of attention, let alone touch me.” My cheeks flushed the moment I’d said that. Why did I have to blabber it out like that?
His eyes moved down my body and then slowly, so slowly, up, gaining a disarming intensity. My heart thudded harder with each second of his perusal. It felt as though he was undressing me, leaving me wide open to him, and I desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. Even more so when he met my eyes, and I found something sultry in his gaze.
His brows bunched, and he quickly looked away. More color poured through my face, and I really, really hoped he couldn’t hear how loudly my heart was beating.
“You shouldn’t let that interfere with your acting. But since it is, we’re going to have to focus on that, too, then. I wouldn’t want you to faint once I put my mouth on you.”
His last sentence invited a specific, dirty image to my mind, and I could feel heat pooling in the pit of my stomach despite my anger.
“I’m not going to faint, Jason,” I gritted out.
I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a smirk lurked at the corner of his mouth. “If you say so. Let’s start practicing.”
“Sure.”
“How about we do the scene where Nathan shows up at Chloe’s place the day after his foster dad beats him again?”
My lips formed a hard line. In this scene, Nathan was angry and withdrawn, and he refused to talk to Chloe about what had happened, but as they watched a movie, the initial tension changed into a tension of another sort. The scene started with Chloe resting her head on his shoulder and Nathan’s arm wound around her to keep her next to him on her bed. Ms. Holloway had told us she wanted us both to emphasize the attraction they felt toward each other that still wasn’t addressed, and to do that, we had to increase the will they, won’t they tension through our looks and actions.
It was a really intimate scene, and I would’ve preferred we did something less charged with tension, but that would be showing him more weakness, and I’d already had my fill of sharing weaknesses with him for the day.
So, I fished out my script and opened it to the page containing that scene, despite having already memorized it. “Alright.”
Jason stood up and placed his chair next to me, leaving no space between us. “We did blocking for this scene, but it will be a good opportunity for me to improvise some touches so you’ll get used to physical contact. Okay?”
Flutters kicked up in my belly. I tried not to think about how touchy-feely we would get. “Okay.”
As if reading my mind, he said, “Don’t overthink it. I’m Nathan now, and you’re supposed to show how attracted you are to me. As I told you Tuesday, go full-on.”
My heart was hammering against my ribs now. Gulping, I nodded.
He sat down in his chair, and I shimmied a bit lower before I placed my head on his shoulder. He was all business, while I had to battle thoughts of how good it felt to put my head on his shoulder or how mesmerizingly strong his body felt against mine. The silence in the library got louder.
His arm slid around me in a smooth move, and my pulse turned into a maddening thudding in my throat. He rested his hand on my waist right where sensation started, and each inch he covered burned, creating a flutter in my stomach. It didn’t help that he smelled of clean soap and lavender. Or that his thumb shifted up and down my waist in a move that he probably wasn’t even aware of and I was too aware of.
“Relax. Don’t be so stiff,” he whispered, and I gave a little shiver. His fingers slid down an inch, splayed across my waist. I bit into my lip as I felt a throb down low in my stomach.
I was counting down the seconds until we started, but then I realized maybe this tension was for the best. I didn’t need to mentally get myself into the mood to start the scene, as high-strung as I was.
He gave me the cue to start.
I sniffled. “This movie is so sad. I hate sad endings.”
He chuckled. “Then why did you want to watch it?”
“Because they’re such a good couple! I love them. But really, the writers suck. She could’ve survived that accident.”
He released a drawn-out sigh. “Life isn’t a fairytale, Chloe.” He took my hand in his—that was in the script. What wasn’t in the script was his thumb moving across my palm. It sent tingles deep through me.
I glanced at the next line in the script as I swallowed. “It can be if we allow it.”
He snorted. “Don’t be naïve.”
I pulled away to look at him and improvised by grabbing both his hands. His eyes dropped to look at our hands for the briefest of moments. “Naïve? You’ve been stuck in your misery for too long, Nate. Get over it—”
He stood up abruptly. “It’s so you to look at everything through rose-colored glasses. How can I get over it when it happens over and over again, huh?”
I stilled. I made sure fear showed in my eyes. “Did . . . did your foster dad do something again?”
He whipped his gaze away, crossing his arms over his chest. “He lost at poker last night, so he took it out on me.” He shrugged. “Same old.”
Improvising, I reached out to grip his forearm. The marvelous strength in the muscles there gave me pause for a second. “That’s horrible, Nate. I’m so sorry.”
His lips thinned as he met my gaze. “I got used to it, so don’t worry.”
“You got used to it? Do you realize how that sounds? You shouldn’t have to get used to that. You’ve got to report him. He can’t keep getting away with that.”
His lip curled as he gave his script a glance. “You know it won’t make a difference. He’ll make it look as if I’m lying. Besides, even if they believed me, they would just transfer me somewhere worse. I can’t keep moving from one place to another. I’m tired.”
He sounded so bitter, so hurt, that for a moment, I felt the actual impulse to protect him.
I tightened my fingers around his arm. “I know, but you have to—”
He whipped his arm away from me, turning around and taking a few steps away. “I don’t have to do anything, Chloe.”
“So, what? You’re going to stay there until one day . . . one day . . .” My heart clenched as a vivid image of Nathan beaten to within an inch of his life flashed before my eyes. I’d been so swayed by the pain in his voice, on his face, swayed by Chloe’s need to protect him, that pain suddenly exploded in my chest, sharp as if my own heart wanted to bleed out for someone I cared deeply about.
Before I realized what was happening, tears filled my eyes and I was reaching for him, my grip on his hand desperate as I pulled him down to sit next to me again. His eyes widened imperceptibly, darting between my hand holding his and the hot tears sliding down my cheeks—those tears coming from the heart of a girl who wanted to give her all for her guy.
“He could kill you. You already ended up in the hospital because of him once. What if you end up there again? What if this time—”
His fingers gripped my shoulder. “Chloe—”
“No!” I grabbed his face with my hands. “I don’t want to lose you. You hear me? Please tell me you’re going to report him. Please.” My vision blurred with more spilled tears.
He missed a beat; his lips didn’t move as his eyes flitted between my eyes and then dropped to my lips. I couldn’t remember if that was in the script or not.
With a deep frown, he cupped my face and rested his forehead against mine. “You won’t ever lose me.” His voice held an emotion I’d never heard in it before. “Never, Chloe.”
“Then don’t give up on yourself. Please.”
He slowly pulled away. The backs of his fingers started trailing a path down my cheek, jaw, shoulder, and all the way down to my hand so tantalizingly slowly, his touch like silk against my heated skin. He didn’t even blink, following my reaction to this too closely.
I felt feverish. That definitely wasn’t in the script.
When he finally spoke, his voice was pure velvet. “Only if you promise you’ll always stay by my side.”
I looked at my script as heat filled my chest, opening up like a flower under his fervent gaze. How was it possible that he could look at me this way when . . . when . . . He placed his hand against my cheek and coaxed me to look at him, a touch that sent my heart racing. I leaned into it.
“Promise me,” he ad-libbed, his voice more fervent.
The pounding in my ears was almost deafening. “I promise. I’ll always stay by your side.”
And at that, his lips widened into the biggest of smiles, illuminating the room, the world, everything.
He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, sending a shiver through me when his fingertips brushed the top of my ear. “You’re sunshine,” he whispered.
“I’m what?”
“You’re sunshine, Chloe. In a world full of darkness, you’re sunshine.”
My heart wanted to burst at how tender his voice was. My fingers wrapped around his hand in a touch that felt so natural I never wanted it to end. “If I’m sunshine, you’re a rainbow, always making my world colorful.”
His eyes blazed. Suddenly, his thumb drew a slow line along my cheekbone, each part of its path bringing tingles to my skin. My every breath was laborious. There was nothing but us, sharing the same connection that had come to life on Tuesday.
He palmed the back of my head. “Where have you been my whole life?” His eyes shimmered with need. In this moment, I could see he wanted to kiss me, to show me just how much I meant to him. He moved like he was going to, his lips coming just a breath away from mine. We inhaled the same air.
I allowed myself only a second more of that before I drew away from him to say the last line. “Waiting for you to find me.”
The scene was over, but we didn’t move, both of us looking at each other like we were still in that world—like we were just a girl and a boy who longed for each other more than anything. Only now I grew aware his hand had been covering mine on the armrest, and my whole awareness went to that point of contact.
He looked at our hands and frowned, as if he himself didn’t know why he was still holding me. He pulled his hand away, then his whole body, allowing for more space between us.
Immediately, I felt the absence of him, which was quickly followed by shame.
What had happened in the last few minutes? How was it that we’d been sucked into it, into each other, so easily? Surrounded by silence, it was as if we’d connected on some deeper level and brought our emotions out to the fullest.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought Tuesday was a fluke. I thought it was just a coincidence, that we lucked out—a supposed connection between us on that stage that was just a product of the moment.”
I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t dare breathe.
“But it happened again just now, before I fucking knew what was going on. And I slipped right fucking into it. It was that easy.”
My throat worked to swallow past the constriction in it. So, he felt the same way. He felt it too—the connection—but he didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t like nor understand what was going on between us, just like me.
“Is that so bad?”
“It doesn’t make sense. I would’ve expected to be in the moment with anyone but you.”
I recoiled, my brows furrowing together. “So, you want to say the problem now is that I’m too good? That our chemistry is too good?”
He bared his teeth and drew in a long breath through his nose as he stood up. He took a few steps away from me, stopping with his back to me. “No. I just don’t understand why you. What’s so special about you?” His voice held confusion and conflict all at once, and my chest started to ache.
“Maybe it’s the way you and I bring out the characters. It’s impossible not to feel the pull between Chloe and Nathan.” Even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t it, and I could see he wasn’t buying it either.
