Joey

Improvising can be dangerous

 

I am flat on my feet exhausted.

Not only have I been working part-time at my friend Felicia’s flower shop over the last few weeks – because hey, wedding season – I’ve also been attending rehearsals every day and evening since we received our parts.

As Theo had promised, I won the female lead in the play and have had to transform into Silvia. And let me tell you, it’s hard to do. I’m nothing like the character Theo has written. At least, I don’t think I am.

Silvia portrays a woman who is self-assured. Prickly to a point of being brash and rude. I was born and raised in Indiana, by a mother who taught me to never truly show my feelings, but instead to suck it up and live with whatever happens.

I’ve certainly grown a pair over the last year and have pushed myself out of my shell so that I don’t get walked over, but I’m still that passive-aggressive mid-Western girl.

There’s a particular scene that Theo and I have been working on that I just can’t seem to get right. I’m supposed to act indignant and incensed by Chester’s behavior. I’m supposed to yell at him, right before the big make-out and bed scene.

I’ve never yelled at anyone my entire life.

Granted, the stage will go dark before anything happens, but I think I’m self-sabotaging the lines before it, because I’m so nervous that people are watching me.

Not a good problem for a stage actor to have, is it?

This is the third time we’ve tried practicing in front of the class and I just keep tripping over the words, forgetting the lines and messing the whole scene up.

I think Theo’s getting a tad frustrated with me, as noted by his constant pencil tapping on the table converted into their director desk.

“Okay everyone, let’s take a short break and start back at Scene four when we return. Fifteen minutes, folks. And then we’re back at it.”

I’m just about to walk off with the other cast members when Theo halts my progress.

“Joey? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

My friend Maria gives me the side-eyes and giggles, before patting me on the shoulder reassuringly.

“His bark is worse than his bite. You’ll be fine,” she whispers as she walks toward the exit, leaving me standing in the middle of the stage.

I turn toward him and watch as he hops up on stage, dusting off the back of his jeans and crosses his hands over his chest.

He assesses me for a moment, heaving a sigh as his broad chest fills and expands with air before he releases it. He’s wearing one of his Acting OUT branded t-shirts and it fits him snug and perfectly. He’s also wearing his glasses today which are so geeky-hot my ovaries explode every time he adjusts them on his nose.

“What’s the problem with this scene, Joey?”

Because I’m tired, I plop down on the black painted stage, the cue markers scattered around me. We’ve had to learn not only our lines, but where to stand, when and how to move, how loudly we have to project our voices. It’s a lot to remember.

I offer a soft reply. “I don’t know. It’s just not coming to me.”

Theo drops it in front of me, sitting cross-legged so our knees touch. I have so much repressed sexual energy that even this makes my panties wet.

“Remember when we talked about pulling from your own life experiences in order to draw from that raw emotion?”

I nod my head. “Yeah.”

His places his palms on my bare thighs, in what I think is an encouraging gesture, but my skin breaks out in goosebumps from his touch. I want to grab his wrists and draw them up my legs, lay back on the stage and let him have his way with me.

And then I shake my head clear of those devious thoughts, because a) we’re in public and b) he’s gay!

My prayers have gone unanswered every night when I ask the man upstairs to do something about that.

Theo scooches closer. I stop breathing.

“You’ve got to dig deep and find it inside you,” he lifts his hand and taps his index finger on my boob.

Well, not exactly my boob, but above my heart. But it’s close enough to my boob that my nipples do a happy dance and stand at attention.

“Close your eyes.”

Uh, probably not a good idea but I go with it and do as he requests.

“Think of something that has made you so angry you just want to scream.”

Centering my thoughts, I flip through my archives and immediately know what it is.

Last night after class, Theo and I were hanging out in his apartment rehearsing together. His phone had been on the table and when he got up to go to the bathroom, an alert popped up on his phone.

It was right there so I glanced at it.

It was a message that popped up on Grindr. Oh my god, he was getting hookup alerts from interested men in the area!

I had absolutely no right to be pissed, because that was his business and I knew he was gay. But the confusion I felt turned me upside down. All night long it felt like he was flirting with me. Sending me mixed signals and soft touches on my leg, or arms.

By the time I returned to my apartment, my blood pressure was at an all-time high and I could barely breathe. I wanted to yell and scream and rail against the unfairness of this stupid attraction I have with him.

Theo must see the tight lines that form across my face and the change in my body’s physical state, because he says,

“That’s it. Now let it out. Yell at Chester.”

I scream. But not at Chester. At Theo, my mother and myself.

I let go of all the pent-up confusion and frustration over my unrequited crush. At how dumb I feel lusting after a guy that clearly never wants anything to do with me physically.

I scream at my own self-loathing for letting my mom call the shots about my life and choices because I wasn’t strong enough to stand up to her.

I yell at the top of my lungs.

“You’re an asshole, Chester!”

And then I open my eyes and slap Theo across the face.

His response is electric. And unanticipated.

He grabs me at the top of my biceps, pulls me into him, and kisses me hard. Thoroughly. Passionately.

So hard I think my lips will be bruised.

So hard I feel it all the way down to my toes.

I let out a husky moan.

And then I find myself flat on my back, as Theo covers me with his body and continues to kiss me.

Oh my word, this is the best kiss ever.

Maybe it’s from all the untapped emotion that has sprung like a leak from deep inside me, or maybe just the passion I’ve tried to keep hidden from Theo.

Our tongues dance and quarrel, duking it out in a play for dominance. Theo’s abs contract underneath his shirt and my hands reach around to his back, sliding underneath the soft cotton and finding the strip of skin above his waistband.

I think I hear him growl in pleasure over my touch and then I feel the pressure of his very thick and very hard length in the juncture between my legs.

I’m so confused. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize that’s what Chester would feel toward Silvia. But Theo?

It makes no sense to me. Is this turning him on?

If so, how is that possible?

The sound of laughter coming from somewhere behind the stage brings us both back to reality and Theo lifts his head, the humid air brushing across my wet lips.

We stare into each other’s eyes and then a smile cracks open across his face.

Pushing himself off, he gives me his hand and pulls me up with him.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Theo gives me a wink, turns and walks off the stage where I’m left gaping after him wondering what the fuck just happened.

My brain is foggy, and now that he’s gone, I wonder if it was all in my imagination.

Do actors experience that kind of physical charge when acting out love scenes?

Determined to find out, I decide I’m going to get to the bottom of things. Tonight, when we’re alone because I need to know.

Is he just acting? Is he gay or not?

Whatever he is, I just need to know for my dignity’s sake. So I can move on and stop my heart from potentially being hurt by this unrealistic crush.