A Midsummer Night's Fling (Much Ado about Love #1) by Eliza Walker Page A
Authors: Eliza Walker
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Max. I wonder if it’s too late to switch parts . Maybe Rita could have Gil play Titania instead. That would be a new and different direction for the play.
The stage manager and a few of the fairies pushed several unpainted wooden blocks together to make up Titania’s bed. Nicola stretched herself out.
“Max im !” Rita’s shrill cry echoed off the back rows of the theater, taking full advantage of the wonderful acoustics.
“I’m here. I’m here.” Max jogged onto the stage and circled behind Nicola. The bed platform rocked as Max leaned his considerable bulk against it.
“Puck! Where the hell is Puck?” Rita spat out, losing patience. “And Gil! Abe, you find my Puck. Violet, find Gilbert. Ay dios mio . Where is everybody?” Rita stormed over to confer with the stage manager.
Nicola propped herself up on her elbows. Max eased himself down to sit at her feet. For a long moment, she only stared at him, and he stared back, looking ridiculously worried.
“It’s not the end of the world.” Watching him, Nicola was provoked into a laugh. “Maybe she’ll let you kiss Lachlan next.”
A corner of Max’s mouth tipped up, and he stared thoughtfully at the sky. “We’ll be fine. It’s not like we’ve never done this.”
“No.” Her heart thudded in her chest, punching against her ribs. “No. After all, we spent most of 2005 making out.”
“2006 too.”
“2006 was a good year.”
His mouth quirked. “An immature vintage, but it had potential.”
She scoffed out a laugh, then gazed around, feeling antsy.
“What?”
“If there’s going to be kissing today, I’d just as soon get it over with.”
Crushing silence followed her pronouncement.
Nicola reran her words in her head and, realizing how she’d sounded, clapped a hand over her mouth. Max shot her a mock glower, but she couldn’t hold back one squeak of laughter. “Sorry, Max. You know what I mean.”
“I wonder if there are any onions lying around somewhere. Garlic?”
“Don’t you dare. That wasn’t funny in R&J and it’s not funny now. You’re a grown man. A professional actor. Act like it.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
She ought to say something stern and grown up, something responsible, but his hair was glinting gold in the sun, a dimple flirting with her at the corner of his mouth. All she wanted was to sit in the sun beside him and laugh.
Max . Her heart had forgotten what it felt like to know someone like this, to be able to read his expressions, to predict what he’d say, to be pleased simply by his nearness. This was the sweet comfort of affection—not only wanting the person you were with, or loving them, but liking them too. Over the years, she’d forced herself to forget how much she simply liked Max.
It wasn’t a comforting thing to recognize now.
Especially what with the imminent kissing.
Max studied her face, his eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to say something.
“Sorry, sorry.” Gil Dodgson thumped onstage and threw himself onto the platform next to her, nearly kicking Max. Gil yawned, his hair and clothes appearing sleep rumpled. Her Bottom settled in front of her—the small spoon to her big spoon, cutting Nicola off from Max.
Lachlan sauntered onstage, smelling of cigarette smoke as he stood behind her against the platform.
“What line are we starting from, Rita?” Max asked.
Nicola felt seasick, her gut writhing as Max and Lachlan kept knocking into the flimsy platform. Their jarring movements were minor, hardly anything, but her body was already unsettled, her insides flailing in anticipation.
It was worse having kissed him so recently, because she didn’t have to think back across years to remember how good he was, how he tasted, how his arms felt…
She rolled her weight over, trying to find a position on the rough wooden platform that didn’t hurt. She counted lines in her head, trying to figure out where Rita would put the kiss. You’re a professional. Suck it up. It
The stage manager and a few of the fairies pushed several unpainted wooden blocks together to make up Titania’s bed. Nicola stretched herself out.
“Max im !” Rita’s shrill cry echoed off the back rows of the theater, taking full advantage of the wonderful acoustics.
“I’m here. I’m here.” Max jogged onto the stage and circled behind Nicola. The bed platform rocked as Max leaned his considerable bulk against it.
“Puck! Where the hell is Puck?” Rita spat out, losing patience. “And Gil! Abe, you find my Puck. Violet, find Gilbert. Ay dios mio . Where is everybody?” Rita stormed over to confer with the stage manager.
Nicola propped herself up on her elbows. Max eased himself down to sit at her feet. For a long moment, she only stared at him, and he stared back, looking ridiculously worried.
“It’s not the end of the world.” Watching him, Nicola was provoked into a laugh. “Maybe she’ll let you kiss Lachlan next.”
A corner of Max’s mouth tipped up, and he stared thoughtfully at the sky. “We’ll be fine. It’s not like we’ve never done this.”
“No.” Her heart thudded in her chest, punching against her ribs. “No. After all, we spent most of 2005 making out.”
“2006 too.”
“2006 was a good year.”
His mouth quirked. “An immature vintage, but it had potential.”
She scoffed out a laugh, then gazed around, feeling antsy.
“What?”
“If there’s going to be kissing today, I’d just as soon get it over with.”
Crushing silence followed her pronouncement.
Nicola reran her words in her head and, realizing how she’d sounded, clapped a hand over her mouth. Max shot her a mock glower, but she couldn’t hold back one squeak of laughter. “Sorry, Max. You know what I mean.”
“I wonder if there are any onions lying around somewhere. Garlic?”
“Don’t you dare. That wasn’t funny in R&J and it’s not funny now. You’re a grown man. A professional actor. Act like it.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
She ought to say something stern and grown up, something responsible, but his hair was glinting gold in the sun, a dimple flirting with her at the corner of his mouth. All she wanted was to sit in the sun beside him and laugh.
Max . Her heart had forgotten what it felt like to know someone like this, to be able to read his expressions, to predict what he’d say, to be pleased simply by his nearness. This was the sweet comfort of affection—not only wanting the person you were with, or loving them, but liking them too. Over the years, she’d forced herself to forget how much she simply liked Max.
It wasn’t a comforting thing to recognize now.
Especially what with the imminent kissing.
Max studied her face, his eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to say something.
“Sorry, sorry.” Gil Dodgson thumped onstage and threw himself onto the platform next to her, nearly kicking Max. Gil yawned, his hair and clothes appearing sleep rumpled. Her Bottom settled in front of her—the small spoon to her big spoon, cutting Nicola off from Max.
Lachlan sauntered onstage, smelling of cigarette smoke as he stood behind her against the platform.
“What line are we starting from, Rita?” Max asked.
Nicola felt seasick, her gut writhing as Max and Lachlan kept knocking into the flimsy platform. Their jarring movements were minor, hardly anything, but her body was already unsettled, her insides flailing in anticipation.
It was worse having kissed him so recently, because she didn’t have to think back across years to remember how good he was, how he tasted, how his arms felt…
She rolled her weight over, trying to find a position on the rough wooden platform that didn’t hurt. She counted lines in her head, trying to figure out where Rita would put the kiss. You’re a professional. Suck it up. It
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