Play On
Page 59It was hard for me to reconcile the man that was just introduced to our company—that cold, aloof man—with the one who’d looked at me like I was the answer to everything good in his world. Was that what losing Sylvie had done to him?
I cursed myself for the concern that overtook me. And for the way he was already consuming my thoughts. This wasn’t what I wanted. I needed a distraction!
Quentin had called time on the rehearsal to hang out with Aidan and talk shop, and I didn’t need to be told twice to get the hell out of there. However, as I was leaving, I swore I could feel that chilly gaze on my back. Not able to help myself, I glanced over my shoulder before following the others out into the night.
Aidan wasn’t looking at me. He was smirking at Amanda who gave him a little flirtatious finger wave as she walked away.
To my horror, I felt a flare of possessive jealousy so intense, it was like the last eighteen months hadn’t happened.
I went home. I avoided a call from Seonaid knowing as soon as she heard my voice, she’d know I was not okay. And I glared at my English paper, thinking how impossible it would be for me to work with Aidan on this play. My life was good. I was finally in a good place where I actually liked myself and the plans I had for my future. Why do anything to shake that up?
It was time to find another theater group.
The money my mom had given me was enough to afford the luxury of only working a few nights a week at a pub on the Grassmarket. I kept my flat in Sighthill to keep costs down, and bartending at The Tavern covered my food and electricity.
Rehearsals for the play were Monday and Wednesday evenings, and I worked Thursday and Friday evenings. We were always busy at the pub given our close proximity to student housing. During classes that day, I’d vacillated between the need to fall asleep (I had not slept well the night before) and wanting to tear my hair out in frustration because my thoughts would not abandon Aidan Lennox. Moreover, I was trying to work myself up to call Quentin and tell him I was out. Knowing that was going to be unpleasant, it was taking me a while to gather the courage.
I was on break at work that evening, considering using work as an excuse to leave the Tollcross Company, when my phone rang.
Spookily, it was Quentin.
Quentin never called.
Texted demands, yes, but never called.
“Are ye gonna answer that?” Kieran, my Irish colleague, scowled at me. He was a law student at Edinburgh and studied during his breaks in the tiny staff room at the back of the bar.
“Good, you’re there.” Quentin heaved a dramatic sigh. “Change of plans. You’re now Viola.”
“Uh … what now?”
“Gwyn quit. Apparently, her dissertation is suffering and she needed to cut something out of her life. Considering she couldn’t learn her lines, I’m not exactly in mourning. So. My little Rain Man, you are now Viola. Congratulations. Be at rehearsals, usual time.”
And he hung up before I could say another word.
At once I wanted to fist pump the air because there was no way I expected to get a major part in any play so soon. We may have been an amateur theater company, but Quentin had worked hard for more than a decade to build up its reputation. His productions always sold out because he offered quality, affordable entertainment. The local media reviewed them. Jack had gotten work on an episode of a national TV drama because of his performance in A Streetcar Named Desire a few years ago.
How could I turn down the chance to play Viola?
Yes, I didn’t want the drama of having to deal with Aidan or the way he clearly could invade my every waking thought. But wasn’t running away from the situation something the old me would’ve done? This was my life. Mine. It was time to stop letting other people dictate how I lived it.
That didn’t mean my hands weren’t shaking when I wandered back into the bar.
“Are you avoiding me? I feel like you’re avoiding me,” Seonaid said as I hurried along Home Street, trying to block out the noisy traffic so I could hear my friend. She’d called as I was on my way to my first rehearsal as a major player.
“I told you I had a paper to finish this weekend. How is that avoiding you?”
“For fuck’s sake, Cee Cee, stop interrogatin’ the poor lassie. Ye ever think maybe she just wanted some peace and quiet fae ye?” I heard Roddy call from the background.
I snorted, listening as she retorted, “She’s not you, Roddy. She actually likes having me around.”
“I like havin’ ye aroond tae. I just like it better when ye’er no’ yappin’.”
“Remember he’s ambidextrous?” I said at the same time he said the same thing.
Seonaid huffed but I heard her amusement. “Stop avoiding the subject. Is everything really okay?”
I hesitated, wondering if I should tell her about Aidan. Seonaid was so good at bolstering me, inspiring me to be a better version of myself. But somehow, I couldn’t get the words out. Telling her that he’d walked back into my life like a stranger would make it more real, and there was still a part of me hoping I could bury my head in the sand and pretend he’d been a surreal dream.
“Nora?”
I scrambled for a lie. “I … um … I’ve been feeling a little swamped with school lately and I didn’t want to complain because I want this, and it seems so ungrateful to complain.”
That sounded plausible.
Seonaid apparently thought so too. “You’re still allowed to get stressed about it, though, babe. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Thank you. I’m fine, though. I’m heading to rehearsal, in fact. I … uh … the woman playing Viola dropped out so they gave the part to me.”
“Oh, Nora, that’s brilliant!” she cried. “I can’t wait to come see you in it.”
“Thanks.” I smiled, still giddy that I’d actually be on stage playing this part.
“Shame you grew your hair out, though. Doesn’t your character dress like a boy for most of the play?”
I snorted. “Yeah, she does.”
Once my hair had hit my chin, it grew like wildfire and to my delight, it now reached my shoulder blades. I usually wore it in soft waves created with my hair straightener—Seonaid showed me how.
“Okay. Speak soon, babe.”
We hung up and I attempted (and failed) not to feel guilty for lying to her. But I was already trying to deal with my own reaction to Aidan’s return. I didn’t need to deal with Seonaid’s too.
By the time I walked into the building on Gilmore Place, it felt like there were small creatures surfing waves inside my belly.
Do not be sick, Nora. Whatever you do, do not throw up.
I’d like to pretend it was all about being nervous for my first day as Viola, but it was, of course, more than that. And the “more than that” was standing near the stage talking with Quentin and Terence.
Quentin looked up at the sound of my entrance and gestured to me. “Viola arrives!”
I flushed but attempted a smile. It may have come out a little grim.
My director didn’t seem to notice, however. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I said, coming to a stop near them.
To my disbelief my body hummed with absolute awareness of Aidan, like it used to. Would that damn feeling never go away? How was it possible to still feel that way when the bastard left me? Left me!
Because of the awareness, the way the hair on my arms stood on end, my eyes were drawn to him, despite my anger. He was concentrating on his phone, texting someone. His top lip was pressed into his full lower lip and the strong muscle in his jaw popped out, like he was gritting his teeth beneath his cool façade. As always, he was unshaven, scruffy in a way that worked for him. I flushed, remembering how the scratch of his stubble elicited tingles through my body when we kissed. Once upon a time, he’d promised me I’d feel it everywhere, but we never got the chance.