Star Fire

i have flattered a lady.

           

The next morning, Elodie stumbled into her shift at the café, half asleep and confused about the turn of last night's events. After rehearsal, Anthony had driven her home and then had asked to come up to her flat—she'd refused out of exhaustion, but had let him make out with her just a bit longer until she was almost regretting her decision.

"Oh, my god, Elle. If you don't stop fretting about this I'm going to take you off bar. That's the third shot you've let go long." Carly said, dumping a shot of espresso down the drain and smiling apologetically at the customer, who was, thankfully, a regular.

"Fretting about what?" they asked.

Elle blushed. "It's really nothing—"

"Her newest castmate wants to have sex with her but she's worried about leading him on and how it would look to the rest of the cast."

Carly grinned and handed them their drink. Elle spluttered next to her, her cheeks going even pinker.

"Oh is that all? I say jump into bed with them! It's not every day you're in London at an acting school surrounded by attractive people!"

Carly burst out laughing as Elodie hid her face in her apron, mortified. The customer joined in Carly's laughter as they left the shop, and when they were gone, Elodie smacked Carly's arm.

"You are the worst!" she hissed.

"Well, I'm not wrong. And you are going to be late for class." Carly pointed at the little clock they had on the wall.

Elodie cursed, ripping her apron off and running to grab her things.

"Don't forget to use a rubber!" Carly shouted as she dashed out the door, and Elodie stuck her hand back in to flip her off before she disappeared.

That night, she had finished with her class work, and she was feeling restless. She slipped her shoes and a comfy wool sweater on and let her feet take her out on the walk she'd been doing along a canal for the last few nights while trying to memorise her lines. While her feet took her along the dimly-lit cobblestones, she murmured one of her scenes under her breath, being careful to pause for Hamlet's interjections, hardly even seeing what was in front of her.

Just as she was stooping to walk underneath a low pedestrian bridge, someone else nearly walked into her, and she had to step aside. Her foot skidded down the edge of the concrete bank and she gasped, waving her arms to avoid falling in. Someone's hand clasped her arm and yanked her back on the pavement, and she toppled into them, cursing.

"Are you all right?" they asked, and Elodie stood up and stepped away from them.

"Yes, thank you so much—Theo!" she exclaimed, taking a step back in shock. His hand shot out again and he pulled her back from the water. He, like her, was wearing a heavy sweater, and he was smoking a cigarette, watching her with what she thought might have been an amused expression.

"Elle! I know you're playing Ophelia and all, but please don't set yourself afloat in a basin, this water is filthy."

He took another drag of his cigarette and smiled down at her, and her knees wobbled a bit as she carefully watched his lips. "Isn't it a bit late to be out walking on a café night?"

Recovering her speech, she shrugged. "I couldn't sleep, and walking helps me memorise, so..." she gestured around her. Feeling self-conscious, she tugged the sleeves of her sweater down and shivered, wishing she'd at least dressed up a bit before she ran into him.

And worn what? A ballgown? For your usual insomniac walk? she chided herself.

"Oh, is that what you were muttering when you were walking up to me? I didn't recognise you and actually had half a mind to flatten myself against the wall and let you pass." He pulled his coat around himself tighter. "Which scene?"