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“Maureen.” I nod, stepping forward into her room before I have a chance to change my mind.
She backs up as I walk past her. “I honestly didn’t think you’d come…”
I set my bag down, observing her room slowly. It’s a simple studio-style layout just like mine, but there are touches of Maureen everywhere. A purple comforter, faux fur pillows, magazines and tabloids strewn across the sofa, and a large cosmetic mirror set up on the table, surrounded by more kinds of makeup than I even know exist.
I turn my eyes back to her. “Well, I’m here.”
She smiles, stepping toward the counter in her skin-tight purple midriff top, her breasts lifted high at the neckline. “Do you want a drink?” She begins to pour two tequila shots.
She’s certainly prepared. Did she know I’d give in and come? Am I that predictable? I reach out and take one of the shots, throwing it back quickly, then I set the glass back on the counter with a clink.
“How are you?” Maureen steps toward me.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk.” If I think any more about this, I’ll ruin it, so I ignore her surprise and close the distance between us quickly, pulling her into me and pressing my lips firmly into hers.
She tenses at first, but almost just as quickly, her hands are gripping the back of my shirt and pulling me closer. Her lips quickly grow insistent and confident against mine as she presses her body into me. I trail my fingers down her sides, finding her bare skin at the bottom of her shirt. It’s warm, smooth, and feminine; exactly what I crave.
Even though our characters in the play have a romantic storyline, we don’t kiss, so this is our first time. And she’s as eager as I expected her to be.
Soon I’m guiding her to the bed, pressing her until the backs of her knees meet the edge and we’re both falling onto the fur pillows. I prop myself up on my arms and catch a glimpse of her. She looks up at me in awe, as if her reality is too shocking to believe. I lean in and tuck my lips into her neck, breathing in the strawberries and roses.
Her hands trail up my arms, pausing at my triceps and gripping tight. I close my eyes and let the feeling sink in. This is what I need. This is where I’m comfortable, in a position where the pressure is off. Maureen wants one thing. The same thing I want.
We both need this.
She’s willing, she’s eager, she’s bold.
She’s…not Sophie.
I stop breathing and Maureen’s heavily rising chest suddenly contrasts my still one. She isn’t Sophie. Not even close.
Oh no, why does that matter so much to me? All at once, her face comes to the forefront of my mind. I see her eyes, looking up at me when I hovered above her on stage. Those eyes that trust me.
If Sophie is a tranquil stream, Maureen is a turbulent, stormy ocean. They both quench a thirst, but one brings more serenity, more clarity, than the other. One threatens to wound me. The other threatens to heal me.
Both are a threat.
Maureen would dig her sharp nails into me and fight to keep control. She might provide a bandage for the moment, but she would really only be ripping the wound open even deeper, and she’d continue to hold me back from any chance at healing.
Sophie wants to fix me, but she also wants something miraculous. It’s a change I’m afraid to even consider.
But somehow, I know that being here with Maureen will do me no good in the long run. So, before I can argue inside my own head any further, I press my hands into the bed and push myself off her, ignoring her pull to keep me close.
“Kai…” she whispers as I retreat.
I shake my head and turn around, looking for my bag. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not?” She sits up in bed and watches me closely. “I’m so glad you came.”
“I have to go.” I don’t meet her gaze as I sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way toward the door. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait…” I hear her say. But I’m gone before she has a chance to finish.
I skip the elevator and take the steps up two at a time to my hallway. Talking is not an option. Thinking clearly is not an option. I just walked away from a beautiful, willing woman because she simply isn’t the woman I can’t have.
I mutter an expletive under my breath as I step inside my own room and slam my bag down on the table. I slump onto the bed, hanging my head in my hands and shaking it firmly.
I can’t let my ties to Sophie prevent me from seeing other women. This whole thing has gotten out of hand. My only option at this point is to keep my distance from her. She wants ‘all business,’ so that’s exactly what I’ll give her.
