Lights, Camera, Kiss Me: Episode 7
Hated Seeing You With Her
❤️Mac❤️
"Don't say that," I beg. "You can't say that."
He can’t do this to me, not now. Now when I’m drunk and consequently defenceless when it comes to him. I have fought this thing between us for too long. If he touches me, I will melt in his arms, and how can I do that when he has another woman waiting for him?
I promised myself I will never let my feelings for my co-star cloud my judgement or screw up my job again.
I press my damp forehead against the cool glass of the car window. Even in my drunken state I can’t lie to myself. I wish my feelings for Ryan were just infatuation, lust and the remnants of a teenage crush, but I know they aren’t. In the darkness and silence, with his presence next to mine, I know I’m dangerously close to falling in love with Ryan Moore.
I need him to be the strong one here – to keep resisting our attraction. Is it fair to him? No. Is it right? No. Not at all. But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s what I need.
"You can't give up," I say. "You have to keep fighting."
"I've tried, Mac. I really have." Ryan’s tone is frustrated, almost angry.
"You have to try harder."
He laughs a self-deprecating laugh. "You have no idea how hard I have been trying. This keeping our distance thing…it's not working for me. And I don't think it's working for you either. Everyone is worried about you."
"I'm fine."
I press my temples, feeling a throbbing pain. I'm far from okay, yet I can't bear the thought of others worrying about me, especially when my own worries consume me. Lately, a profound sense of loneliness grips me, and the intensity of my feelings for my co-star only heightens my anxiety, often robbing me of sleep. While I've always been in the spotlight, it now feels as though I'm a mere spectator to the unwinding drama of my life. The trouble is, I have no idea how to stop or rewrite it. This thing between us feels out of control.
"Really?" Ryan asks softly. "Getting drunk and looking for sex? That's you being fine, is it?"
"I over-did it tonight," I admit. "It was stupid, but I'm hardly the first person to let loose a bit too much."
"Mac."
"You have your distraction, Ryan. Let me have mine."
"That's the problem, Mac. I don't want you to have a distraction."
I swallow as the anger wells up inside me. Does he not know how hard tonight has been for me? How it felt to sit across him, pretending that jealousy wasn’t slicing me to a million pieces? My vision begins to spin and I feel violently ill– either from the anger or alcohol, I don’t know.
"That's not fair," I say. "You know that's not fair."
“Of course I know that. None of this is fair. It isn’t fair that we’ve had to cut our friendship at the knees because of this attraction between us. It isn’t fair that I can’t touch you without…” He drags his fingers through his hair, pulling slightly at the roots as his face tightens. “I’ve tried to get on top of what I feel for you. Nothing has worked. Nothing! The feelings aren’t going away.”
"You have Cindy," I point out. "She's nice; I like her. You're going to break her heart."
"She knows this is nothing serious."
"I'm sure that will be a comforting thought when she's crying her heart out over you in the middle of the night."
✯Ryan✯
I stare out the windshield, absorbing the weight of Mac’s words. The women I date know what the deal is. From the start, I ensure they understand. I don’t lead them on or promise them the world. They're aware from the outset that I don’t want anything serious.
I despise expectations and the disappointment that inevitably follows. To avoid the feeling of letting someone down, of not measuring up, has always been my strategy. By setting boundaries from the beginning, I hoped to sidestep future heartbreaks. Yet, hearing Mac's words—that I might break Cindy’s heart—makes me feel…well, like a complete arsehole.
Cindy was intended to be a mere distraction. I consciously used her as a shield, but now, I find myself completely undistracted anyway and filled with guilt. I need to break things off with her. Mac's right. Cindy is nice, and even if she initially agreed to my terms, it doesn’t mean she won’t eventually desire more.
Just as Mac would.
If something were to develop with Mac, she'd undoubtedly want more than a casual fling. Given how much I care about her, I'd strive to provide it. But if I were to come up short, Mac would be hurt or pissed, whichever hits first. I'd be gutted, feeling like trash because I let her down, doing to her what Westlaker did. I promised myself I'd be different.
So, am I ready to give up this internal struggle? No. I have to keep resisting. For Mac’s sake. I won't treat her the way Westlaker did, using her until the novelty wears off.
"I'll…try and keep fighting it," I say, rubbing my eyes wearily. "But that still leaves us with a problem."
I still can’t touch her and keep my feelings for her in check. But I never get to explain this to her, however, because she suddenly throws open the car door and heaves. I’m out of the car and by her side in a flash.
"It's alright," I tell her, holding her hair and rubbing her back as she throws up on the sidewalk.
❤️Mac❤️
I am grateful that I narrowly avoid stepping into pool of my own vomit as Ryan guides me away from his car. Throwing up in front of the hottest guy on Aussie TV is pretty damn humiliating, but stepping in my own puke – that would have been the cherry on top of a pretty terrible night.
When we get to the stairs, Ryan scoops me up so that he is holding me in his arms. I feel the heat of his body against mine, a solid presence to my fretful mind. I told him not to come up, but I hardly need to worry about him making a move on me now. I probably smell gross and look worse.
"Put me down now," I mumble, once we reach my door.
Ryan sets me down, but his arm doesn’t leave my side when it becomes obvious that I can’t stand by myself. He takes the purse from me, and with his spare hand fishes about for my keys. Instead of finding my keys, he finds the strip of condoms I threw in earlier.
"Geez, Mac. Six? Really?" Ryan’s voice is incredulous.
"It's been a while," I say. "I thought I might need them."
Ryan says nothing, and goes back to rummaging through my purse. Even though I’m drunk I can detect the slight tension in his muscles, the darkening of his eyes that he tries not to show. I want to explain myself to him, but my head is pounding. As soon as Ryan gets us inside my apartment, he tosses my purse onto the couch, and starts walking me towards the bedroom.
"Uh-uh," I say. "I want to brush my teeth."
"You can't even stand."
"I'm not going to bed without brushing my teeth."
He walks me in to the bathroom where he sits me on the edge of the bathtub and puts toothpaste on my toothbrush.
✯Ryan✯
"Water. Can you get some water please?" Mac says.
I go into the kitchen to look for a water glass. Once I find a cup I fill it before walking back into the bathroom with it. Mac is perched on the edge of the bathtub, looking so dejected that I feel something wrap around my heart and squeeze. want to put my arms around her right away.
Instead, I slide the cup of water under her lips and tilt her head back to make her drink. When she’s done, I guide her into her bedroom, my arms under hers, and sit her on the bed.
A wave of fatigue crashes through me. It has been a long day and I feel far too tempted to get into the bed, but as much as I want to sleep right now, I know it won’t stay that way for long. Mac sinks down into the covers and I place her feet across my lap to take off her shoes.
"I'm sorry," she says as I fiddle with the buckle on her heels. "About the vomiting, and the drunkenness. About asking you to drive me home when you're on a date."
"Don't worry about it,” I say. “What are friends for?"
"Are we friends?"
I stare at her. Mac’s eyes are closed, shutting me out of her head. At that time, when I suggested we should keep our distance, I believed it was for the best. Now looking at her crushed expression and dishevelled hair, I can’t help thinking I made a huge mistake. My desire for her has only grown in her absence. After what Jazz said tonight, I suspect Mac misses me just as much as I miss her.
Even if I have decided to continue to fight what I feel for her, I don’t want to stay away from her anymore. I don’t know how I can be around her and not act on the attraction, but I’m going to try. For both our sakes. Besides, if Mac is going to do stupid things like get so drunk she can’t walk by herself and go out looking for sex, she’ll need someone to look out for her. I need to be around to make sure she’s safe.
"Of course we're friends, Mac," I say firmly.
"Friends that don't see each other?"
"That's going to change," I promise.
Mac doesn’t say anything in response. Has she gone to sleep? I go back to trying to get her shoes off.
"I'm lonely," she says.
"You'll find a distraction," I say.
"I hated it…seeing you with Cindy."
My chest tightens immediately. Jazz was right. Mac is sad— sad and lonely. And by bringing someone with me tonight, I managed to make her feel ten times worse. Guilt clutches at me.
"I know I'm not supposed to care," Mac continues.
I want to comfort her, hold her. But that will lead to more – the type of more that may satisfy both of us in the short term, but nothing that will lead to any good for her in the long term. Anyway, Mac is vulnerable and probably not entirely with it at the moment. She will likely not even remember this conversation in the morning.
"Shh. Try and get some sleep," I say.
"I shouldn't want to be with you," Mac says. "I shouldn't feel the way that I feel about you."
At her words, my stomach does a somersault. What does she mean by that? I am debating the ethics of asking her exactly how she feels about me when I hear her soft snores. Ridiculously disappointed, I work one heel lose, then her other shoe, before I slide them out from underneath her feet and cover her with the sheet and blanket.
"Night, Mac," I say, unable to resist the impulse to sweep the hair off her forehead.
My gaze lingers for a moment on her mouth before I reluctantly turn and walk away.
❤️Mac❤️
Saturday is a complete write-off for me. I’m glad they don’t need me in the studio today because I don’t think I could have dragged myself out of bed even if my life depended on it. I am relieved to find that I am still dressed when I wake up. I assume Ryan helped me into my apartment and put me to bed, because I don’t remember much of what happened after we left the restaurant.
Late in the afternoon, Jazz calls me.
"I'm sorry I didn't make it to the club," I say.
"I never expected you to,” Jazz’s voice is worried. “You were so drunk you couldn't walk properly."
"I know."
"I've never seen you drink like that."
"And now I know why I usually don't do that," I say, rubbing my temples. I am not in the mood to speak to anyone right now, but I also know my friend has many questions for me. I try to change the topic. "So, how was the rest of the night? You guys went without me, right?"
"Yeah…we actually ended up at The Dolls House,” Jazz says, “because Vanessa wanted somewhere closer than The Spice Club, and we assumed you weren't going to make it. Anyway, the music was too loud and it was so packed we couldn't dance. You would have hated it. We didn't stay for long."
I suspect Jazz is playing down the evening to make me feel better, but I feel a rush of gratitude towards my best friend. The last thing I want to hear is that they all had a blast without me.
"Did Ryan make it there okay?" I ask.
"Yeah, though he and Cindy left a few minutes after he got here."
I nod. The idea of Ryan and Cindy going home together makes me want to throw up all over again.
"Speaking of Ryan," Jazz continues. "I was talking to him earlier today and he suggested we do a barbecue tomorrow. You up for it?"
"Oh…um…"
"He thought we could go to your place and then on to Fawkner Park, though it's supposed to be hot so we'll need to do it early on in the day."
"Ryan suggested you should come here for a barbecue?” I ask.
"If that's alright with you. He said he's been missing hanging out. Can you believe it?"
No, no I can’t believe it. Ryan has been all about avoiding me for the past few months, and now he decides he misses our get-togethers and wants to hang out?
"Mac?" Jazz asks.
"I'm here."
"So, tomorrow?"
"Yeah, tomorrow is fine."
I have to talk to Ryan and find out exactly what is going on.
"Great," Jazz says.
I finish making the arrangements for tomorrow, say goodbye to Jazz, and then hang up. I haven’t even put the phone down when it rings again. Ryan’s number.
"Hey," Ryan says, when I answer.
"Hey," I say, feeling a wave of nostalgia at the sound of his voice.
I can’t remember the last time he actually called me. It feels far too good to hear his voice on the phone again.
"You're up," he says.
"Yeah."
"How are you feeling?" he asks.
"Um, better than I was this morning."
"Good."
"Thanks for taking me home last night,” I say.
"You already thanked me for that," he says, "Do you remember?"
"Ah…no."
"Do you remember anything from last night?"
"Not very well."
"You don't remember what I said to you in the car last night?"
There is something in the tone of his voice that triggers the memories to come rushing back. I remember our walk from the restaurant. I remember his arousal and my own heated response to his proximity. I remember how we sat in his car talking, snatches of our conversation breaking through the fog in my brain.
"I remember," I breathe out. "You said you didn't want to fight this anymore."
"Yeah," Ryan says. "I did say that. And you told me I had to keep fighting it. So, I'm going to keep fighting it, Mac."
It’s ridiculous that I should feel so disappointed at his words. I should be relieved, shouldn’t I? I could never resist him if he decided to give in and pursue this thing between us. It’s good that we still have the brakes on this thing, isn’t it?
"But I don't want to keep my distance anymore," Ryan says. "I want us to go back to hanging out again. We're friends and I don't want to stay away from you anymore. I miss you Mac."
His voice is soft and gentle and his words wrap around me like a warm and comforting blanket. He misses me. Just like I miss him.
"I miss you too," I say quietly.
"I know," Ryan says. "And staying away from each other, I don't think it's helping."
I nod. Avoiding each other hasn’t changed how I feel about him. "I agree."
"So, have you spoken to Jazz yet?"
"She said that you wanted to do this barbecue thing tomorrow – that you wanted us all to hang out."
"Yeah. Though I do have an ulterior motive. I need to see you. I need to talk to you about something."
"What?"
"Our upcoming kiss."
I swallow. My heart begins to race.
"What about it?" I ask.
"I'm anticipating a problem."
"What kind of problem?"
There is a long pause before Ryan speaks. I hold my breath. "Every time I touch you…I react. I'm worried about what's going to happen when we're in front of the cameras."
"You want to give it a test-run?"
"You guessed it."
"Tomorrow? With everyone here?"
"I'll come over before everyone else arrives. What time is Jazz going to be there?"
"Ten-thirty."
"I'll be there at ten then."
"I…I don't think that's a good idea,” I say. Butterflies flutter in my stomach at the thought.
"Maybe you're right, but having no idea how we're going to react to each other on set is dangerous. We have to make sure we're in control of this. We have to make sure we can stop when they say cut. And knowing that we'll have company in half an hour will hopefully stop things from going…too far.”
"You set up this whole barbecue tomorrow so you could kiss me?" I ask him.
"Actually, I thought spending Sunday with everyone would be fun. But yes, there's an opportunity here and I think we should use it."
"An opportunity?"
"You know I can't wait to kiss you, right?"
I can hear the sincerity in his voice, as well as the smile he’s likely wearing, and my pulse skitters and jumps. I stand up and walk towards the open window in my lounge room, hoping that the air outside can help clear my head.
"I have high expectations," I say, smiling now too.
"Aw, Mac, you're making me nervous now."
I laugh. "I'm making you nervous? Australia's Romeo nervous to kiss a girl? I don't think so."
"You're not just any girl, Mac."
"I'm not?"
"You're not," he declares.
His voice is dead serious and the earnestness of his words makes me blush. For a moment I feel as if I’m floating on a cloud. I’m terribly lightheaded. Then I remember something.
"And will Cindy be coming tomorrow?"
"It's over with Cindy," Ryan says.
It is like a huge weight has been lifted off me. It’s over between them. It shouldn't matter. But it does.
"Was she okay?" I ask.
"No, she was pretty crushed."
"I'm sorry," I say, not quite sure what else to say.
"Yeah, I was too. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Ryan."
I’m grateful that I have a long list of things to do to get ready for the barbecue. Since Ryan’s phone call yesterday, I've been more than a little nervous, but with every passing hour my nerves grow exponentially. I’ve daydreamed about kissing Ryan Moore since I was fifteen. Without the distraction of cleaning I might just hyperventilate and pass out.
After cleaning, I shower and dress. I pick a blue and white sundress this time, which accentuates my shoulders and gives me a confidence I do not feel. I brush my teeth twice, gargle some mouthwash and by the time I’m done with my make-up, it’s already five to ten. Five minutes before he arrives. I use the time to pace back and forth. It's just a kiss! The voice in my head repeats shrilly as I pace back and forth in my apartment, unable to keep still.
At exactly ten o’clock, there is a knock on the door. I open the door, immediately catching a whiff of his clean-shaven, masculine scent. My eyes roam over his perfect chest, his broad shoulders, to his twinkling hazel eyes – before descending upon his mouth. That is when my stomach plunges all the way down to my toes.
"It's just a kiss."
Ryan smirks at me. "Well, it's all we have time for."
I blush, realizing I’ve spoken out loud. Stupid, stupid, stupid! All these nerves have obviously cut off the oxygen supply to my brain. I’m not sure I’m breathing at all right now.
"Can I come in?" Ryan asks.
I move aside hastily to let him through and he walks straight into my kitchen. I realize he is holding a shopping bag in his hands.
"Snags, beer and bread," Ryan says, removing the sausages and beer and putting them in the fridge.
Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Everything is happening far, far too slowly.
"When are you going to kiss me?" I blurt out.
"We still have time if you want to wait a bit," Ryan says.
I shake my head. "I want to get it over and done with."
"Now that makes me feel good," he says.
"I mean, I'm nervous."
"So, relax," he says. "It'll just be like two friends kissing."
"If you really believed that you wouldn't be here right now."
"Okay, so it might be a little more than that. Do you want to do it now then?"
I nod. "Where should we…"
✯Ryan✯
I look around me. The kitchen is small. There is limited bench space. Perfect. No bed and no couch around us, nowhere where I can comfortably do more than kiss her.
"Here," I say.
"Here?"
"Yep. Here."
Of course this is more than two friends kissing. I am nervous as hell, and my palms are clammy-cold. In fact I can’t remember ever being this nervous about kissing a woman before.
Because Mac is different. She is special. I know that, even if I don’t understand why. I barely slept last night. I feel like a little boy, about to unwrap my Christmas presents.
I should have arrived a little later. Thirty minutes is still long enough for things to spiral out of control. But she is desperate to get it out of the way, and I am desperate to get my hands on her. Warning bells sound out from somewhere within me, the voice in my head saying You want this too damn much. I ignore them. I have to know if I can do this. I have to know if I can stop.