Page 59 of First Impressions of You

My qualms are proven unfounded when I arrive backstage, and Winter is nowhere to be founded.

“We don’t have rehearsal today?” I ask Emily when I notice how silent everything is.

“We do, we do,” she assures me. “We’re doing the scene where Melina and Arthur reunite again, so it’s just you and Winter today. He let me know he’d be a little late, but he should be here soon.”

Perfect. So I was right in being nervous after all.

I sit on the edge of the theater with my script in hand, trying to concentrate on the words in front of me, but it’s fruitless. My mind is restless, and I’m focusing all my energy in not letting it show. I think I even overdo it—I sit so still, Mia, the stage manager, asks if I’m okay when she passes by me on her way to her seat.

Winter arrives a couple of minutes later, his breath short when he apologizes, as if he’d run here. When I stand up and turn to him, I think I might have gotten up too quickly and the blood has failed to reach my brain. That would maybe explain why I suddenly feel lightheaded. Why the sight of him, of what I’ve learned to be his everyday uniform, worn-out jeans and white T-shirt, takes my breath away.

He looks exactly like he did the last time I saw him, and yet completely different.

There’s an ease to his shoulders and a lightness to his step that weren’t there before. As if he’d been carrying a heavy load for a long time and finally got rid of it. Even his eyes look brighter. The deep brown of his irises look more inviting than scary.

I realize that at this moment, if I did get lost in his eyes, I wouldn’t want to find my way out.

“Are you good to go?” Emily asks, and the abrupt break in the silence pulls me away from this weird trance I was in. We both nod, and the stage manager gives us our starting positions.

We nail the scene in the first try. I give Melina all the anguish of being betrayed by the person she loves, adding a pinch of hope that he might still be the person she knew. Instead of having her totally angry at him, she’s betrayed but sad that he would throw their relationship away for political gains. And Winter…

Winter pours his soul into Arthur. When he pleads with Melina to believe him, I can hear the desperation in his every word. When he asks me to look at him, to see him, I have a hard time remembering we’re Melina and Arthur. He’s good. He’s really good.

“Everything I did was for you,” he finishes his line in a breathy plea. Then he adds, “It’s always been you.”

My breath hitches.

Emily and Mia clap so enthusiastically it sounds like there’s an audience watching us. The sound reverberates around the empty house.

“Yes!” Emily hollers, unfolding her body from the chair to give us a standing ovation. “Yes, yes, yes.” Mia’s laughing at her side, but both of them look like we’ve just given them a Tony-worthy performance. “That’s exactly why you were cast. This is the chemistry I saw in the test, and that’s the only thing I want to see from now on. You two.” She closes her fist and brings it to her mouth, unable to contain herself. “You two will bring this house down. I just know it.”

We share a look, and for the first time, I see a gleam in his eyes. Joy in doing this. Like he’s finally here on stage with me for real. Until now, a milder version of Winter had come to rehearsal, but now it’s the real him. In all his force and power.

And the way he looks at me, it’s like he’s seeing me for the first time. Like he’s lifted the curtain that he was hiding behind, and now not only can I see him clearly, but he can see me.

I tug my lip between my teeth as my heart thuds in my chest. I’m overwhelmed by a wave of feelings. But this time, instead of fighting it, I choose to ride the wave and let them wash over me, basking at the moment.

“You’ve earned a break after this mind-blowing performance,” Emily calls. “Take ten.”

I don’t expect to have craft service today, being just me and Winter at rehearsal, but when we walk backstage, sure enough there’s a table set up with coffee, crackers, and granola bars. The huge first-day banquet was a one-time thing, but I’m surprised they served anything at all today.

My homemade coffee sits exactly where I left it when I arrived, on the far corner of the table, but I notice that today there’s one thermos carafe more than the usual. In front of it, a small plaque reads milk.

“Oh my God,” I yelp in excitement. “About time.”

“What?” Winter asks a few steps away.

“They finally have milk here,” I explain. Holding my own cup up, I say, “I don’t have to bring coffee from home anymore.”

“Oh,” he says, but the way the sound comes out of his mouth makes me cock my head at him. When his lips twitch in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash, I arch my brows at him. “What?” he asks innocently.

“Nothing.” My voice trails off, as I shake my head. “It’s just funny that they have milk here all of the sudden.”

“Is it?”

“Uh-huh.”

A sly grin starts teasing his lips. “Maybe someone asked craft service for it.”

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