Act Like Love

Chapter 5

The house is small. I didn't expect that.

Grey shingled with a red door. Cute, like something I would see in a watercolor painting at a thrift store. It feels homey, and with the crisp air, inviting and warm.

I should knock but every time I bring my fist up to wrap at the door my stomach flips. Also, the sweat doesn't help. It's barely above freezing out here and I feel like I just ran a marathon. When I get inside I'm not taking my coat off. The last thing I want to do is show off my pit stains.

The door swung open despite my gutless take on knocking. Grant stood there in low hung jeans and a red T-shirt that seemed to make his eyes deepen like an ocean. As he raised his arm and leaned his elbow on the door frame his shirt hitched up, showing a sliver of his smooth stomach.

I had to stop myself from staring.

"I thought that was you. Here, come in and get out of the cold." Grant steps back and waves me past.

Forcing my legs to move, stiff from cold and cowardice, I step past him and enter a quaint entry way. The dark wood flooring is covered with a small cream rug and off to the side is a living room. The style modern but comfy with an overstuffed navy couch and leather chair. There is even a fire roaring in the fireplace.

"What a nice place. Makes my dorm room look like dungeon."

Grant reaches out his hand to help me take off my coat and I reluctantly oblige. So much for not displaying my underarm sweat.

"Here, come get warm by the fire. It seemed like you were standing outside for a while. You must be cold."

I rub my hands together and walk over to the fireplace. It feels good, the chill melting as I kneel in front of the flames. Grant comes to sit beside me, bringing a pillow for me to sit on.

"You watched me while I was outside?"

His cheeks turn pink and his gaze shifts toward the fire, "I wanted to make sure you arrived. That you didn't get lost."

It warms me to know that he was watching for me.

"I think we should get right to rehearsing and then we can eat."

It's Saturday and our final rehearsal before we perform on Tuesday for the class. Winter break starts next week and I worry I won't see him after that. Will he move back to LA so I never see him again?

He may be used to long distance friendships but I'm not.

"Eat? I thought we were just rehearsing today." I say.

"I made my Grandma's beef stew. There's a lot of it so I figured we could have some later."

He cooks. I might be drooling a bit.

I finally pry myself away from the warmth of the fire and we get to work. We don't really need to rehearse much anymore as we got the scene down to a science. The first run through is usually stiff but after that it flows. The emotion and dialogue seems real as if we aren't acting at all.

"How about that stew now? My stomach is starting to rumble." Grant says as he gets up from the couch after our fifth run of the scene.

Food sounds awesome. My nerves seemed to get the better of me this morning and I skipped breakfast. Each day I have to rehearse with Grant I become more and more jittery. I know what it is. I like him. More than as a friend.

That kissing scene has me questioning everything. I don't even care about the audience watching anymore, which was on my mind in the beginning. Who wants their first time being kissed in front of an audience? No one.

That doesn't bother me anymore, nor that it will be my first real kiss. What has my heart pounding as the calendar creeps ever forward to that day, is -- will he mean it.

Will Grant be kissing me because it's in the scene and the only passion that is there will be from his character or will the kiss be genuine and from his heart?

I sit at the small round kitchen table and sigh. Of course he will be kissing me because of his character. Why would I hope otherwise? He's a Hollywood star and can date any gorgeous woman he wants. I'm just a short girl from Maryland who takes acting a little too seriously, at least according to my parents. The last guy I went out with broke up with me after a few weeks because I was too nice. Apparently, being nice is a downer.

Oh, and I wouldn't kiss him.

It's weird. I'm weird. Every time I come close to kissing someone memories of seventh grade flood my brain. Zachery on the playground cornering me by the wall near the back of the school where the teachers couldn't see. His fingers digging into my jaw, forcing me to face him. Just before he was about to make me kiss him we heard Mrs. Tompkins voice. He ran, I shook while my legs refused to move. Mrs. Tompkins found me a few minutes later curled in a ball tears streaming down my cheeks. I lied. I told her I had a fight with my best friend. She comforted me but I felt like a coward and ashamed of what had happened.

So, every time a guy tries to kiss me I freak. I hope I don't panic on stage.

"Hope you like it."

Grant pushed a white ceramic bowl in front of me filled with warm meaty goodness. There are thick chunks of meat, potatoes, and carrots and it's cool enough that when I rush a spoonful in my mouth I don't burn my tongue. Perfect.

I moan and my eyes roll back into my head.

"Don't hold back or anything." Grant chuckles just before bringing the spoon to his lips.

"Marry me! No, wait, I meant, marry me."

Grant throws his head back with thunderous laughter. Ever since that first rehearsal and I was lucky enough to witness his real laugh. I have been trying to get him to show me all the time.

"I would say yes but I have a fear you will expect me to be barefoot and in the kitchen all day making food while you are off working hard to bring home the bacon."

"Mmmm, bacon. Now you're talking." I say, and imagine crumbled bacon on top of the stew.

"If I had known the way to your heart was through your stomach I would have made the stew weeks ago."

My body becomes stiff and the smile falls from my face. Grant stops laughing too.

"Um, have you been—"

"Never mind. That came out wrong. It was a joke." His words are a rush. Grant focuses on his bowl as he shovels stew into his mouth.

I sit for a moment absorbing his words before I can speak again, "You know Grant, the past few weeks have been great. I will be honest with you. When I first met you I thought you were a jerk. You seemed to not care about the class and looked down on everyone in it. But now that I have gotten to know you, I like you."

I want to say I more than like him but since I am a coward, that didn't happen.

He looks up from his bowl, his face softened into a smile.

"I have been around people for so long that only want things from me, usually to get them a job. I wonder sometimes if I know how to deal with someone who just wanted to be with me. If that's friendship, I will admit I am not used to it and am probably failing badly."

I reach across the table to rest my hand on his, "You aren't failing at it. I like being your friend."

If that is all I can get from him then I will take it. Part of me desires to be much more than a friend, but I don't want to lose him either. It's not like I have a lot of friends either. Being so focused on getting into a good acting program in high school and then focusing more on my craft than meeting people once I made it to college, I need a friend about as much as he does.

I smile and nod. We finish eating while discussing the scene, but once I leave after lunch I feel more uneasy than I did when I first came here. I should be pleased I have a friend, right? Why don't I feel happy?