Page 37 of Forget About Me

When I first came home, after my dad’s heart attack, I assumed I’d be back in Los Angeles within a week. But something shifted. I’d just stumbled into modeling, and I didn’t plan to ever act again. My agent wanted me to, but I was afraid of it, I guess. Now that I’ve found my way back to the theater, I don’t want to give it up. Disappearing into a role does something for me that modeling can’t. I guess posing for the camera is playing a character in a way, but without the words and story it’s nowhere near as satisfying.

What I reallydon’tmiss? Playing a role in my downtime, too. Pretending to date people who just want arm candy. Until I came home and stepped off that treadmill, I didn’t realize how draining it was. When I first got back, all I did was visit my dad at the hospital, eat, work out and sleep. When rehearsals started forRomeo and Juliet, it was like I woke up again.

Acting energizes me. Modeling drains me.

“Ben?”

I look up from the sink. “What? Sorry, I guess I zoned out there.”

Lucy’s on the other side of the island, and we’re back to square one. “I was saying thanks for the meal. I’m going to head home.”

“Are you sure? We could watch a movie. I rented some videos.”

She looks at the TV, then back at me before walking to the door, shaking her head. “You’re paying me, Ben. We’re all good. You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”

“What?” I rush to catch her. “I don’t. Of course I don’t.”

She whips around, hands spread in the air. “Then what the fuck is this?”

I put on the brakes, mirroring her gesture. “I just—I miss you.”

Her hands fist at her hips, and she looks at the ceiling. “So, you think you can leave, disappear completely for seven years, and then come back and I’d be like ‘Oh, Ben is paying attention to me again. I’m so lucky’?”

“No, of course not.” I’m scrambling to catch up and just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “You were my closest friend. You and Tony. And I?—?”

“You left, Ben. You left, and so did everyone else.” Her voice is wobbly, but her gestures are sharp, punctuating her words. “Tony was gone and my whole family disappeared into grief—my dad works all the time, my mom runs around all over raising money for Mothers Against Drunk Driving—and you skipped town just when I really needed somebody. You think you can waltz back now and we’ll just start up where we left off?”

“No, I don’t.” I shake my head slowly. “I know it was awful to leave like that. After I got out of the hospital, I couldn’t face you guys. I thought I’d be a horrible reminder of what you’d lost. And I felt so guilty because?—?”

“You felt guilty? How do you think I felt? Still feel?” She covers her face with her hands and roars into them, her frustration making me feel like the biggest shit ever. When she runs her hands through her hair and pulls hard, I have to stop her.

Easing her hands out of her curls, I whisper, “I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I hurt you. I felt like… like I shouldn’t have survived. I couldn’t stand to be with myself, so I thought you wouldn’t want to be with me either.”

When she finally opens her eyes, they’re filled to the brim with tears. The need to kiss them away erases all reason. Stepping in close, I brush my lips across her cheek. When she moans in response, my mouth finds hers and everything I feel for this woman is unleashed. Before I know what’s happening, I’ve pushed her up against the door. Our lips crash together. Her hands grab at my shirt, then circle to my lower back to pull me even closer. Everything ugly between us dissolves. There’s only Lucy, me and the love I’ve never been able to forget.

Until my phone rings.

Panting hard, I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could do the same for my ears. The ringing stops, but the answering machine clicks on with a loud beep. A loud voice follows.

“Ben. Pickup.”

“Shit. It’s my agent.” He and I have been playing phone tag for two days. I have to talk to him about a new shoot he signed me up for that would totally screw up the schedule forTwo Gents.

“Ben, where the fuck are you?” His voice fills the room, chilling it.

Lucy shifts to the side.

“I’m so sorry, Lucy. I have to tell him something.” I manage to grab her hand and squeeze it. “I’ll make it quick.” After one pleading look, I jog across the room to grab the receiver. “I’m here Kirk, don’t hang up. Listen, I’m still coming back to LA, but—?“ The sound of the front door opening arrests my train of thought. “Um, Kirk, hang on a sec.” Pressing the phone to my chest, I get as close to the front door as the cord will allow. “Lucy, please—?”

Lips that had hummed with passion moments before clamp down in a firm line. “Don’t worry about it. I should get home. I’ll see you at rehearsal.”

Before I can say another word, the door closes between us.

Frustration roars through me, and I hurl the phone in my hand across the room before collapsing against the door.

LUCY

I make it home, wash my face, brush my teeth, say my prayers and get into bed. But no matter what I do or tell myself not to do, that kiss plays over and over like a 3-?D movie.

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