Be Mine

Chapter 8

Roseanne  knows just how smitten she is, and it doesn’t bother her, not really; after all, it’s not like it’s detrimental to the main thing they’re doing, which is basically portraying two people in love, so what’s there to worry about, eh?

Nothing, Roseanne repeats in her head, catching herself staring at Lisa on set for the nth time. It’s been a handful of days since shooting resumed, and Roseanne has already settled back into the rhythm of it mostly – the late nights and the early mornings and the in-between moments like this, when they’re waiting in the sidelines and could afford ten-minute naps and then some.

And then some. Roseanne clears her throat, trying to suppress the laugh that has bubbled at the bottom of it. After that kiss, Roseanne had expected Lisa to freak and walk out, never again to be seen except maybe awkwardly -- only that wasn’t how it turned out.

How it turned out was that Lisa stayed.  Against all expectations and Roseanne’s held breath, Lisa stayed – like it had been the most logical thing to do, even when it absolutely wasn’t, because Roseanne wasn’t really thinking but wanting, and Roseanne knows, she’s still not thinking now.

No one is thinking now. So unnecessary. Roseanne bites her lip, swiping idly at her phone’s camera and taking a picture. It comes to her automatically these days – see Lisa, snap something – and going over her camera roll at the moment, she can’t help the small giggle that makes its way out at the sight of it.

“What are you laughing at?”

Roseanne pockets her phone quickly, feeling her face grow warm as she looks up at Lisa’s just-woken face. “Nothing,” she says, recovering with a smile. “Sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm.” Lisa stretches in her seat before walking over to Roseanne’s. “Your turn? My seat is more comfy for naps,” she says, sliding in right beside Roseanne. “I’ll wake you when they call for us.”

Roseanne breathes in; when Lisa’s this near, it’s almost impossible to resist sneaking out to make out, and Roseanne traces a faint figure on Lisa’s forearm to let her know what she’s thinking about.

“I said nap, Rosie,” she says, but she settles against Roseanne warmly anyway; Roseanne could feel her smiling into her shoulder. “You and your bad ideas.”

“I don’t remember you complaining the last time,” Roseanne points out. That earns her a swat from Lisa – that, and a ghost of a kiss against the skin under her ear. Roseanne tries not to shudder – both at the sensation and the memory of the previous day’s shenanigans in the empty set across their current studio. “You have bad ideas of your own.”

“Who, me?”

Roseanne moves away slightly, if only to watch Lisa pull that innocent look at her in that moment. Jesus Christ, she just thinks. On a scale of one to Lisa fucking Manoban. “Yes, you,” says Roseanne, pressing a kiss on Lisa’s nose in kind.

“I’m just as bad as you are,” Lisa counters, and in her head Roseanne goes, That’s fucking it, before she caves in, kissing Lisa squarely on the mouth, inhaling that small gasp Lisa responds with in her surprise.

And so this is how it goes, those first few manic days: Roseanne comes to work and kisses her co-star more often than she’s supposed to, and nobody, not even Lisa, seems to mind.