Love and Ambition

8 - Breathe

It felt as if I could breathe again. Like there was a weight crushing my chest, keeping me on solid ground; my vision blurry and tainted pink from the rose colored glasses. 

When he walked away that day, never to be seen again...

I could finally breathe.

For a time in our relationship, he was my heart and my soul. Everyday, I looked forward to seeing him, feel him in my arms, to have him close. I imagined us in the living room of the home that we just bought, sitting on the couch with the TV on; a cat laying on my lap while he had his arm around my shoulder. 

I looked forward to that. 

But deep in my heart, I knew that it wouldn't be like that.

"This place is nice," Becca stops in her tracks, turning to the outstretched field of flowers. She has her hands on her hips, giving me a big smile. "This could be for scene 5. What do you think?"

"I think it's going to be a Twilight rip-off," I look at the location, picturing the angles and shots; thinking what time of day would be best to have the greatest natural lighting. 

"But Twilight is so good, so this should be good too!" She pulls out her phone and starts typing; adding it to the list of locations, I presumed.

I roll my eyes. It's a good location; fits perfectly with the mood of the scene. But, God, does it feel like a Twilight fan-movie. 

"Should we head back? I think we hit the jackpot," Becca starts walking in front of me before I could nod.

She walks with this stride in her step. Face forward and nose up with no care in the world about what's happening behind her or in the side of her. When you take a look at her, you could tell she was popular in high school. The queen bee who had her trusted two friends, a boyfriend, and one meat on the side. 

But she wouldn't be mean. If she was, it wasn't intentional. She's just too stupid to notice.

As I stand in our side of the film classroom, I study the pictures of locations; hanging on a cork board. Ideas stir in my head of ways to make this film better.

I nudge on Becca who's been writing on a piece of paper. Lines of dialogue, it looks. She looks up at me, crossing her legs with an arched brow.

"I think we should change scene 8," I sit down in the seat in front of her. 

She blinks. "Why?"

"Because..." I trail off. It's dumb, I want to say. "I think this idea makes more sense to the audience."

She leans forward. I take this as an invitation to explain. As I speak, she reluctantly nods her head with a blank look on her face of indifference until I've finished. 

"Um," she looks around the room, squinting her eyes. "I dunno, I think that takes away from the message of our film."

"What fucking message?" I say between gritted teeth. "The whole movie is like a teen-flick with no morals and a soppy ending, which I am dreading to write."

Becca's blue eyes stares back at me, piercing my stomach as I regret saying what I said. The room spins as we continue this look. 

"I can write the script," she pipes, sinking low in her seat. 

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. "Fine," I say, waving a hand in dismissal. 

The image of winning the Best Film Award fades from my mind. Now I'm left with my heart burning from my dreams escaping between my fingers. Just seeing myself sit there in the middle of a crowd, clapping as other—more deserving people—walk up the stage to take their award.

I heave a sigh at the thought. 

There will be more films to write and direct throughout my study. 

It's just not the same.

* * *

The first weekend without my phone buzzing every few seconds—a relief flows through me. 

Jenn dragged me into the local bar again, her perfume leaving a trail of her whereabouts. The music blasts in my ears as she holds my hand, leading me to the dance floor. We smile at each other as I let my body go, dancing with the rhythm and singing along with my best friend. 

For once, I don't have to worry that I'm doing something illegal to my boyfriend's eyes. Now his opinions can go fuck. Right. Off.

The floor sways beneath my feet as the shot I took kicks into my system. I enjoy the lose feeling; how my arms tingle as I dance. With no care if I look good or not. Just moving my hips to the beat. 

I feel hands wrap around me on my waist and a strong body behind me. I turn around in panic, meeting eye-to-eye with a stranger. 

"Sorry, you just looked really good," he smirks, looking back at a table. I follow his stare and see five guys in one table. They give him a thumbs up.

Somehow, this doesn't bother me. 

I smirk at him. "You can look, but you can't touch," I take his hands off my waist and move back. I continue to dance as he watches me. Eagerly, he inches closer, but I swat his hands away in any attempt to pull me closer. I enjoy the tease.

But every man gets greedy.

He pulls me closer to him, a tight grip on my waist. I try to pull away, pushing him with every strength but he's too strong for me. My heart races out of my chest as I panic, my eyes darting around to look for Jenn. 

No luck.

Slowly, his hands explore every inch of my body and I shiver. He smells my hair.

"Get the fuck away!" I yell at him, but any attempt at a scream will be drowned by the music.

"Why? With what you're wearing, you were looking for attention," he leans down to kiss me, the reek of alcohol coming off of him.

His lips and his tongue unwantedly enters my mouth, the reek of alcohol mixing in with my spit. I gag as I regret not playing it safe tonight. I enjoyed every minute of my single freedom up until this point; where his mouth explores downwards to my neck. 

I push him away and slap his cheek. My breathing increases as I try to purify the stink that he marked me with. 

He stares at me, his eyes squinted as he clenches his jaw. Before he could dive in to save his masculinity, I feel a hand on my waist and pulling me to the side. As I turn around, I am met with Jason's calming greyish-blue eyes; pulling me into the sea of dancers and disappearing from the stranger's view.

"You wanna get outta here?" He yells into my ear. 

I pout. "I really wanted to get drunk tonight."

He scoffs, smirking at me, "say no more."

Jason takes me by the hand, leading us to the entrance of the bar. We put on our winter jackets that hung from the coat rack and leave the crowded bar.

Feeling the cold air brush my cheeks fills me with relief.

I could breathe.