EIGHTEEN
POWERPLAY
Present Day
New York City, New York
Graumann Theater
It’s our first day rehearsing on the main stage in the theater. As I step through the door, a thrill runs through me. Being in a theater is always a magical experience. There’s just something about the energy of it. The peeling walls and thick wool curtains. Memorabilia from decades of productions. Scrawled messages on the bricks backstage, cataloging the history and traditions of combining art and imagination.
Our production intern, Cody, meets me and hands me a cup of coffee before he shows me to my dressing room. Like most dressing rooms, it’s not glamorous, but it resonates with the vibrations of all the performers who’ve been there before. I take a minute to just sit in front of the mirrors and close my eyes to drink in the ambiance.
I haven’t spoken to Ethan since Sunday night, although I’ve thought of little else. I spent all of Monday and Tuesday reading his journals and alternating between wanting to smash him in the face and wanting to fuck him thoroughly.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at his journals from our senior year. Right now, I think it would do more harm than good.
I hear someone behind me. When I turn, I find him there, leaning against the doorframe and staring with an intensity that makes me look away.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
The weight of a million questions hangs in the air, but he doesn’t say anything. He wants to know what I think about what I’ve read. I’d tell him, but I have no clue. He wants to know if it’s making things better between us, if understanding equals absolution. It doesn’t, but it’s not by choice. If I were able to banish every ounce of mistrust in the blink of an eye, this whole situation would be resolved by now. I’d be healed, he’d be grateful, and we’d spend countless nights gasping our happiness into each other’s skin.
That would be nice but I’m not there yet.
“You okay?” he says, still in the doorway.
I stand and go to look through my costumes. It doesn’t take long. I only have three. Still, I graze my hands over all the seams, suddenly nervous. Some of it has to do with him and some with the realization that in three days, we’ll be performing in front of a preview audience. Either way, I’m terrified of disappointing someone.
“I guess,” I say. “Feel a little bit like I’m going to vomit.”
“Me too.”
“You’re hiding it better than I am.”
“I think I’m just more used to it by now. Want to snuggle?”
His question catches me off guard. My hand freezes on the sleeve of my dress.
“Uh…”
I feel him behind me before he runs his finger along my costume, just above my frozen hand. When he speaks, his breath is warm against my ear. “It used to help, remember? Both of us. Plus, I think I’ll go insane if I don’t touch you. Strictly platonic, of course.”
I can’t look up. Can’t even touch his finger.
“Cassie?” He touches my hair and smoothes it back over my shoulder. “I’m not asking you for sex. Or even a kiss. I just want to hold you.”
It’s not just holding. It never was. It’s intimate.
I’m saved from turning him down when Elissa appears at the door.
“Hey, you two. We’re about to start the tech run. Can I get you onstage in costume, please? Be prepared to be patient. Marco likes to take his runs nice and slow.”
She disappears, and I step away from Ethan. He sighs and hands me my costume.
“This is what you’re wearing for Act One?”
I nod.
“No wonder I fall in love with you.”
He gives me a smile that’s part affection, part patience.
For some reason, it makes me bristle and feel way too vulnerable.
He leaves, and I try to shake off the negativity. I don’t need it today. I need to be focused and cool.
In control.
“Now, unbutton his shirt. Good. And put your head where it would be if you were kissing his chest. Okay, great. And hold that.”
Ethan tightens and releases his hold on my hips as I keep my lips millimeters away from his chest. Marco’s muttering instructions to the lighting designer, complaining that the spotlight’s too shallow and the sidelights are too far forward. He wants the sex scene to be shadowy and moody, but apparently the only thing in the theater that’s moody right now is him.
This tech rehearsal is moving at a snail’s pace. I’ve never worked with a director who’s so hung up on lighting and positioning. It’s like he’s doing stop-motion animation.
I focus on the smattering of hair on Ethan’s chest and try to block out how much his scent is affecting me. It’s not easy. Right now, I’m wound tighter than a Swiss watch, and he’s trying so hard to respect my personal space, I want to punch him.
“Cassie?”
“Hmmm.”
“I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to promise you’ll answer honestly.”
I’m immediately wary and look up at him.
“Cassie! Put your head back down. Lance is focusing the specials. Don’t move!”
Holt groans. “Fuck this fucking tech rehearsal.”
I stare at his chest again.
“Move your head closer!”
I dip my head. My lips accidentally graze skin. Ethan swears.
“What’s your question?” I ask.
“Did you happen to have a psychotic break recently and decide to slowly murder me? Because I swear to fucking God, having your mouth hovering over my chest without actually kissing it is a cruel and frustrating version of hell I’d rather not be a part of.”
He’s so whiny when he says it, I laugh.
“Fuck,” he says and exhales. “And now you blow air across my nipple? If I’m not dead already, then please, kill me now.”
“Okay, Ethan, take off her shirt.”
He sighs. “And the torment keeps coming.”
He unbuttons my shirt and pushes it open. Then he closes his eyes and whispers, “Please, God, let Marco tell me to freeze with my hands on her boobs. Please.”
“That’s not in the blocking for this part.”
He glares down at me. “Quiet, woman. I’m conversing with a higher being. Don’t distract him with unhelpful logic.”
He’s slowly raising his hands to my chest when Marco calls out, “Okay, Ethan, pick her up.”
“Goddammit.”
He wraps his arms around me and lifts me, and I lock my ankles behind his back. It feels weird doing this in disjointed sections. Also, without the kissing. He migrates his hands down to cup my ass cheeks. I raise an eyebrow.
“Just getting leverage,” he says, deadpan. “It has nothing to do with me wanting to grope your ass.”
“And yet, you are groping my ass.”
“Well, semi-groping. Please note my hands are over, not under, your skirt.”
Please note, my body wants him to be under the skirt, fingering the elastic of my panties. Distracting me from all the conflicting emotions I’m too much of a coward to deal with.
The lights change again and Marco yells, “For the love of God, Lance! They look like a giant two-headed Quasimodo! Can I please get some blasted definition in the cross lighting? This is ridiculous!”
Lighting assistants rush around sidestage as Holt lowers me until I’m settled fully onto his crotch. Once again, I give him the eyebrow.
“What?” His innocent act has gotten better over the years, but it doesn’t fool me. “It’s easier to hold you like this.”
“That’s because I’m resting on your erection.”
“I know. It’s like a shelf.”
I shake my head. “You have zero shame, you know that?”
“That’s not true. I have a great deal of shame. I’ve just given it the day off. I’ve been working it hard recently, and now it’s all exhausted and needs to recuperate.”
“Unlike your penis.”
“He rarely needs to recuperate. Not around you, anyway.”
He sounds relaxed, but the way he’s breathing and the subtle movement of his hips tell me otherwise. Seeing him like this, barely restrained, makes me want to torture him even more. Marco helps with my mission.
“Okay, Ethan, move her to the bed. Cassie, I want him between your legs.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Ethan lowers me onto the bed, then crawls between my legs. I pull off his shirt and wrap my arms around his neck as he settles against my crotch. He groans and drops his head onto my shoulder.
“This is fucking ridiculous. Why can’t it be like a movie set where they get stand-ins to do this stuff?”
“More blue!” Marco says. “And bring up the pinks from behind!”
I try to hold myself still. If I didn’t hate tech rehearsals before, this experience is enough to make me despise them. With every minute that passes, I feel more out of control. My instincts are telling me to take back my power. Fuck him. Let body-quaking sex dull all of my other thought processes.
Simplify things in the most complicated way possible.
“You okay?” he says as he leans on his elbows. “I’m not crushing you?”
“You’re fine.”
“Thanks. I’ve been working out. I was wondering when you’d notice. You’re fine, too.”
“Are you trying to be infuriating today?”
“Nope. Just comes naturally. Are you trying to drive me insane by moving like that?”
“Like what?”
He looks between us. I realize I’m rocking my pelvis against him. Just a little. Just enough to take the edge off the ache.
He lets out a low groan.
“Cassie…” He closes his eyes and puts more weight against me. The added pressure is nice, but it stops my movements. “Have some pity, woman. You’re killing me.”
The lights brighten a little.
“Okay, Ethan,” Marco says, “some thrusting please.”
Ethan lets out a short laugh. “Thrusting. Of course. Just what I need right now.”
He fake thrusts while keeping his erection away from me.
Evil thoughts fill my brain as I stroke the back of his neck and bring one hand down to his chest to graze his nipple.
His rhythm falters. “Stop it.”
“Why?” I trail a finger down his abs, and his face turns red.
“You know why.” His voice has dropped an octave. It’s full of breath and dripping with want.
“Tell me.”
“Cassie … please … not now.”
I’m Aphrodite again. He can’t hide how much he wants me, and it’s intoxicating.
“Don’t you want me to touch you? Don’t you want me to be your girlfriend again? Break that three-year-long dry spell?”
I brush against the line of him through his pants. He hisses and swears. I smile and keep going.
“This isn’t fucking funny. We’re working.”
I press my palm fully against him. His whole body tenses.
Ahhhh, there it is. The rush of power. My dominion over him is written all over his face. The way his eyelids flutter and close.
“Fuck…”
I keep stroking him, and he looks like he’s being electrocuted. He grunts and drops his pelvis down, which traps my hand between us. I squeeze him, because it’s all I can do. Apparently it’s enough. He stiffens and clamps his eyes shut, then clenches his jaw to stifle a moan. After long seconds of tension, he relaxes and glares at me.
I try to play innocent, but I’m not as good as he is. After what I just did, that much is obvious.
He grabs my hand from between us and plants it at the side of my head. He’s pissed. Really pissed.
“That was out of line,” he whispers. “What the fuck did I do to deserve that?”
I look down, too embarrassed to answer. What the hell am I doing?
“You don’t need to do this,” he says, and it’s clear he’s trying to hide how angry he really is. “Whatever game this is, just fucking stop. You don’t need it. You own me. You always have. I thought reading my journals would have proven that to you.”
“Okay, everyone,” Elissa says over the PA system. “That’s a thirty-minute break while we reset for the next scene, thank you.”
Ethan climbs off me and grabs his shirt. Then he stalks offstage without a backward glance.
My face burns as regret and guilt slither through my veins. I throw my arm over my eyes, as if I can hide from myself.
He’s trying so hard to show me he’s changed, and I’m determined to drag him back into our old patterns. Why? Because they’re familiar? Because I feel safe in them? What the hell good is that going to do anyone, especially me?
“Cassie?”
I open my eyes to see Elissa standing over me.
“You okay?”
I have the urge to giggle hysterically. The one thing I’m absolutely not is okay. “Sure, Elissa. Great.”
She nods, but the hard press of her mouth tells me she’s not buying it. “Uh-huh. So, Ethan looks ragey. What did you do?”
I sit up and run my hands through my hair. Ethan’s shame might be on vacation, but mine is very much present. “Oh, you know. The usual. Unleashed my inner bitch on him.”
She nods again. Her disapproval engulfs me like a noxious cloud.
“As your stage manager, I have to remind you that maintaining professional conduct with all members of this company is required. As Ethan’s sister, I want you to know that he’s dragged himself to hell and back to become a better person for you, and if you know he has zero chance of making it work, tell him now and let him get on with his life.”
“By hell and back, do you mean the accident?”
She frowns. “He told you about that?”
“Grudgingly.”
“Then you know what he’s been through.”
I nod. “I do. And I want things to work with us, but I can’t change overnight.”
“I know that. Neither could he, but he wanted to. Do you?”
Marco walks across the stage, clearly agitated. “Elissa! I need you. I have every intention of hunting Lance down and flaying his skin from his bones. I need you to stop me.”
“Coming.”
She leaves, and it’s just me, sitting on a fake bed in a fake house, trying to figure out how to make all the fake parts of me line up to form a real person.
I knock on the dressing room door.
There’s no response. When I enter, Ethan mutters, “I didn’t say to come in.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t say ‘fuck off,’ either, so I figured I’d take a chance.”
I close the door and lean against it. He’s sitting on the couch opposite the mirrors, head back, arm thrown over his eyes. He’s changed into his own jeans, which is understandable, considering what just happened.
“What do you want, Cassie?”
“To talk.”
“No, I mean, what do you want from me? Tell me what I’m doing wrong. Because I’m really trying here, but it feels like all I’m doing is finding new ways to lose you.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at me. I press my back into the door. It reminds me a backbone is there for a reason and not just to hang my bones on.
“I’m sorry.”
I whisper it. Ashamed. Afraid after all this time, I’m not good enough for him. That he’s now a better person than I ever was.
“You don’t need to apologize,” he says as he rubs his eyes. “I just had a grand romantic fantasy of how things would be when we got intimate again. Strangely enough, blowing my load fully clothed during a tech run wasn’t part of the plan.”
He still doesn’t move. I go sit next to him and pull his arm away from his face. He’s flushed. I don’t know if it’s from embarrassment or anger. Maybe both.
“Yeah, I kind of missed that memo. Sorry for orgasming you against your will.”
He laughs. “It’s ironic, considering the amount of times I’ve practically begged you to touch me like that. I’d almost forgotten how quickly you can make me come when you put your mind to it. It’s mortifying.”
He’s still not looking at me. Instead, he looks at his hands as he fiddles with the hem of my skirt and occasionally brushes my thigh.
“I didn’t know if I still affected you like that,” I say. “I thought … maybe … you’d outgrown it.”
Now he looks at me, incredulous. He opens and closes his mouth and blinks. Then he frowns at the floor, the wall, the mirrors, before he makes a disbelieving noise and looks back at me.
“You’ve met me, right? I’m Ethan. Late-night drunk-dialer. Compulsive ass-groper. Shameless boob-ogler. Forever-erect-in-your-presence serial masturbator. How the hell could I possibly outgrow that? If anything, it’s gotten worse over the years. Did you not just witness me coming from you fondling my cock for less than three minutes?”
His complete bewilderment makes me laugh.
He shakes his head. “Crazy fucking statement. Not attracted to you? Jesus.” He pauses. “So mystery solved. Was it gratifying to see me completely lose my shit in record time?”
“A little.”
He nods. “At least you’re being honest.”
Honest. Right. He used to tell me I’d be horrified if I knew the stuff that went through his head every day. Now the reverse is true. Still, I know nothing’s going to improve between us if I keep things from him.
I take a deep breath and say, “Elissa said I need to figure out if I can make this work, and if I can’t, I need to let you get on with your life.”
He turns to me, his expression intense and on edge.
“I love my sister, but she really needs to stop giving you sucky advice.”
“She’s trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
“Don’t you? Have you considered that maybe you’re placing all your hope in something that’s doomed to fail?”
That makes him pause. He studies me. “No. Have you?”
I want to laugh. “Ethan, that’s all I’ve thought about for the last three years. I mean, I know the accident inspired you to better yourself and try to get me back or whatever, but until we started this show, I didn’t know that. As far as I was concerned, we were over. We’d been over for a long time. I had my future all planned out, and as painful as it was to admit, you weren’t going to be a part of it. Now, I have to entertain the possibility that you’ve changed and will stick around? I mean, come on. It’s difficult to process. Did you ever think that your epic plan to get us back together should have included consulting me?”
“I tried to tell you in the e-mails.”
“But you didn’t. You told me you were getting help and that you wanted to be part of my life again, but you spoke about being friends, nothing more. You didn’t even tell me you loved me, remember?”
He rubs his eyes. “I thought I had it all figured out but … fuck, Cassie, I’m sorry. I’m kind of new to this whole winning-back-the-love-of-my-life thing.”
He says it so easily. Like it’s not one of the most momentous things he’s ever uttered.
Love of my life.
It’s such an cliché, but that’s exactly what we are to each other. Even if we both walk away now and end up in other relationships, we’ll forever be that. Some people never find it. Yet here it is right in front of me, and I have no idea how to keep it.
“Cassie, remember how pissed you used to get when I was thinking important stuff but wouldn’t tell you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I can tell you’re doing that right now. Care to share?”
I sigh. “I’m thinking that … I really want to change, but I don’t know how, and part of me thinks it might be too late, anyway.”
“That’s not true.”
“What if it is? Denying how badly this could end up doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen. I think you believe that if you ignore that I’m broken, it will somehow make it not true. But it is.”
“Cassie—”
I stand and pace. He wants to know what I’m thinking? All of a sudden, I want to give it to him.
“And I sometimes think the only reason you want me back is because sexually, we’re spectacular. But what if we get back together, and months from now we realize that apart from great sex, we really have nothing in common? Then we’ll have gone through all of this for nothing.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“Is it? Maybe we’re just one of those volatile couples who are supposed to fuck like animals for a few months, then go their separate ways. We’ve never really had the chance to get each other out of our systems. But what if we did? What if we finally realized all the crap that fueled our problems also fueled our passion, and without it we’re dead in the water?”
He stares at me. “You don’t honestly believe that.”
“Maybe I do. I don’t even know anymore.”
He shakes his head and smiles.
Smiles.
Why doesn’t he look terrified? I just spewed all of my crazy at him, and he seems completely calm.
What the fuck did that therapist do to him? Did she have all of his fear and panic surgically removed?
“Cassie, come here.”
He’s still so calm, he’s like freaking Buddha. If Tristan were here, he’d have a Zen boner.
“Please,” he says, as I stew in my agitation. “I need to show you something.”
I go and stand in front of him. He takes my hands and strokes them gently, then pulls me forward until I’m straddling him.
Now I’m agitated and aroused. Not sure what this is going to prove.
“I thought we were keeping this platonic,” I say as he grips my hips.
“We are.”
I grind onto his growing erection. “Uh-huh. That guy is making a liar out of you.”
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his chest. The contact is almost too much. A vicious ache immediately grows, reinforcing my point about our sexual chemistry driving the disaster train of our relationship. I want to soothe the burn, but he tightens his arms and just hugs me. Breathes into my throat and wraps me in reassurance as he urges me to relax more with every exhale.
“Just breathe,” he whispers. “Ignore everything else.”
I close my eyes and try to do as he says.
Within a few minutes my lust has ebbed to a vague simmer, but in its place is something else. An effervescence in my blood.
He strokes my back, and I melt into him. He leans back, and I follow. After a while the rest of the world ceases to exist.
Our universe is the hush of air between his lips and my throat. The brush of his fingers on my neck.
“Do you feel this?” he whispers. “This is what makes us keep coming back, despite everything we’ve gone through. This is why I had to change, and why, despite how much I hurt you, you can’t walk away. The way we sink into each other. The way I can’t tell my heartbeat from yours. We have this perfect rhythm, whenever we’re together, and that’s the essence of us. It’s not just about sex. It’s about this.”
He pushes me back, so I can see his face. “Cassie, I want to be with you. Always. If that involves us being naked and making love in a hundred different ways, every day for the rest of our lives, that’s fantastic. If it involves us sitting and talking, wearing barbed wire and cast-iron body suits, that’s fantastic, too. I just want you. Now. A week from now. A year. A decade. Whenever you’re ready. What I want is never going to change. It’s you. Just you. Naked or clothed, doesn’t matter to me.”
I take in a ragged breath. What he’s saying …
He strokes my arms. Keeps me grounded in this moment.
“That’s why I haven’t had sex for three years,” he says as he runs his hands up my shoulders and caresses the back of my neck. “There were plenty of girls who reminded me of you. Similar hair, or eyes, or smile. If I’d squinted, I could have easily pretended they were you. But I didn’t want a lookalike. I haven’t been able to have sex without emotion since you, and considering you own all of my emotions, who the fuck was I going to have sex with? From the moment I met you, it was only ever going to be you.”
I lean my forehead against his. “But—”
“No buts. If our relationship was only based only on sex, do you think we’d have gone through all the shit we have? Sex is easy. It’s an itch that needs to be scratched, and as much as I love having sex with you, what I want from you isn’t easy. It’s messy and complicated, and it’s filled with so much fucking passion, I don’t have a clue how to cope with it all. But I find a way, because I love you. And love is hard, but it’s worth it. You’re worth it. And I hope one day you’ll realize I’m worth it, too.”
I’m too choked up to speak.
I know he’s worth it. I’ve always known that. I knew it before he did, I just need to stop doubting we can make this work.
“Ethan? Your therapist … would she maybe take me on?”
He frowns. “I don’t know. Is that something you want to try?”
I nod. “I need to change. But I can’t do it by myself. I need help. I don’t want to be … like this … anymore.”
He pulls me into a hug, and his breath is ragged against my throat as I stroke his hair. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“We’re going to get through this. Have no doubt.”
I squeeze him tighter. “That’s the plan.”