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Lines neither of us seem eager to proceed in reading.
I reach for his lips once again. And once again, Vann takes me in, kissing me back with an unexpected softness that’s both strong and innocently curious.
Then our scripts drop out of our hands. The kiss deepens. And it’s no longer Kingsley and Danny who are kissing in this shed.
11 | VANN
What are you doing, Vann? You did the kiss already. Why are you still kissing him?
We pull away in slow motion like gently breaking the surface of a pool to take our first breath, then peer into each other’s eyes.
“O-Okay.” Toby is still foggy from our kiss. “That’s h-how …” He’s fumbling for a way to rationalize what just happened instead of simply seeing it for what it is. “That’s how we’ll do it. In, uh … in rehearsal. The kiss.” I still feel his electricity on my lips. “That felt right. Didn’t it feel right to you? The kiss?” He eyes me nervously, his lips parted between his words. “Or was it off?”
“It was off.”
His eyes flash with surprise. “Uh, it was?”
“Yeah.” I reach around and gently grip the back of his neck. “We should try it again.”
Those words steal all the breath from him. “A-Again?”
“We gotta get it perfect before rehearsal, right?”
“R-Right.”
“So let’s get it right.”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s … Let’s get it—”
Despite Danny being the one who is supposed to kiss me, I pull Toby’s face toward mine, and our lips unite once more. I knew just from that first taste I might never get enough, but I have clearly and deeply underestimated how powerful our kisses would be. And it isn’t that they’re violent or rough. In fact, they’re fairly gentle. The way Toby touches my lips with his makes me forget every tiny thing that sits heavy in my heart. He somehow convinces me that I belong right here with him, and nothing matters more than this—the two of us, hidden away together in this shed, a secret, alone.
When the kiss ends, our foreheads stay together. The breath that flows between us is warm and fluid, as if we share the same air, the same lungs, the same heartbeat.
“We need to try it again,” I whisper to him.
“Y-Yeah,” he agrees, breathless.
This time, I bring both of my hands to his head, cradling him as I guide his lips to mine. Then we tilt our faces to get a better angle, and there’s nothing more perfect in this world than the weightless sensation in my chest, the ringing joy in my heart, and the light, funny sensation in my stomach that borders between absolutely giddy and nauseatingly terrified.
His hands find my back. As we kiss, I feel them carefully slide down, down, down until they’re resting on the waistband of my jeans, not half an inch above my ass. When do we use this kiss to shatter the borders we’ve created between each other? When do we acknowledge we’re no longer practicing for a scene?
He must have the same thought, because suddenly he pulls his lips away and his eyes flap open. “I don’t want you to think I’m … I’m taking advantage of … of a … a situation or anything.”
“Situation?” I give him a funny look. “What situation is that? Us kissing? Rehearsing? Breaking the ice?”
“Well … y-yeah.” He swallows hard. His hands are still at the top of my ass. I’m still cradling his face with my hands. “I mean, I guess you know I’m gay. I’m very, very gay. And very … very …” He lets out something of a maniacal titter, then goes silent at once. “I can be super serious. I can separate my acting from, from, from—”
“Super serious?” I echo, half-mockingly.
He misses my sarcasm, nodding at once. “Yes. I can be serious about this and just see it as rehearsing. But I want to make sure it’s okay if I … if I’m …” He struggles for words.
I smirk. “I think we need to keep breaking the ice, Toby.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really.” The threads are popping. The chains, rattled and loosening. My insides unravel like an old winter sweater. “All night. Until we’re so comfortable with each other, we feel like real boyfriends. Like real lovers. Real chemistry on that stage.”
“Real chemistry,” he echoes, dazed, his eyes wet with shock.
“So let’s break the ice some more. And this time,” I tell him, a hint of authority in my voice, “really convince me you want to.”
“Okay.” Toby does not look ready. “I’m r-ready.” No, he isn’t. “I’m ready to … to convince you.” Nope, still isn’t.
“You’ve kept Kingsley dangling on a string,” I remind him.
“Yes. I have.”
“You’ve wanted him so badly, it physically hurts you inside.”
“It aches,” Toby agrees, grimacing.
“And now you’ve got the King right where you want him. This is your chance to win. Make your move. Declare checkmate.”
