The Rhythm of Love

Chapter Nine

She gripped my arm firmly, kissed me back briefly, but didn't miss a beat when she pulled away just like we'd rehearsed.

I stared after her as the lyrics suggested that she was all I could see, but in all actuality, I didn't hear a damn thing after I kissed her. It was a head rush of white noise where the only thoughts that circulated in my mind were the ones centered on how soft her lips had felt pressed to mine. I only knew she walked away during the right moment, because I knew the timing and words to "Unrequited" like the back of my tanned, dry hand.

When the music cut off it went from pretty quiet to deathly quiet in the once bustling warehouse. It brought a brand new meaning to the whole pin-dropping-in-a-quiet-room phrase. The director was, not surprisingly, the first one to break that deafening silence.

"Did you get all that?" He whispered to the camera man. The question might as well have been yelled, because there was no doubt that everyone in the building heard him ask it. I glanced in their direction and watched said camera man just nod his head numbly.

"And cut!" he shouted, falling back into his role as the director.

His extremely late, but boisterous command burst the balloon of silence and people resumed what they'd been doing before I'd said, "To hell with the script" and kissed her in front of everybody. I can't say I'd ever imagined our first kiss, but if I had, it definitely wouldn't have been on camera and in front of my closest friends and her mother. That wasn't to say I hadn't thought about it; I just hadn't bothered to play up the idea of a first kiss.

As if she was completely in tune with my thoughts, I heard the prim, proper, always gravelly and always affronted voice of Vivienne Westinghouse ask, "Was that part of the script?"

She clearly wasn't addressing anyone in particular and although a few people looked like they wanted to speak up, they also looked like they were scared to answer her. Thankfully Jasmine beat them to it.

"Yes Mother," she lied smoothly.

"Then why didn't you kiss before? While you were practicing?"

"You can hardly blame us for not kissing the numerous times we practiced! Right Bradley?"

I didn't even cringe when she used my real name. Instead I rooted around in my repertoire of amazingness and gave her my best disarming smile. And disarming was definitely necessary if Vivienne's face was any indication of her mood. She looked like I just admitted to stealing her daughter's virginity, which there was no way she could possibly still have if she'd looked anything like that during the last 10 years of her life. Jasmine was every teenage boy's wet dream and every grown man's fantasy.

"That sounds about right." I agreed, relieved to see her relax slightly. Too bad I ruined it by adding, "Not that I would have any problems repeating it sometime in the near future. Off camera is preferable. A guy can only deal with so much pressure, ya know?"

Vivienne gave one of her disdainful snorts, but surprisingly didn't comment. Jasmine tried to send me a look of reproach, but the quiver at the corners of her mouth revealed a barely contained smirk. Eventually she sighed and shook her head.

"Do you know if the director wants us to retake that last scene?"

"Good Lord, I hope not," Vivienne interjected.

"Mum!"

Vivienne gave her daughter the first truly motherly look of affection I'd ever seen her give, tucking in a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The motherly affection didn't quite carry over to her words, but it was still evident in her tone.

"I'm thirsty. I'm going to go get a water bottle would you like one?"

"Sure," she gave her mother a small, grateful smile. "Thanks Mum."