ng, his eyes filling with emotion.
"No one knows I'm home," he said. "I drove right to your house." He fell to his knees at my feet. It took me by surprise and I gaped at him. "Read your lines," he coached out of the side of his mouth.
"Oh." I looked at the pages. "Why? Why did you come here first, Trent?"
He took my hand.
"Because the things I said to you just before I left .. . the things I told you I was feeling haunted me. I couldn't study. I couldn't talk to anyone. All I've been doing is thinking about you. Every time I look at another girl, she has your face, Arizona." He leaned on my knees and drew closer.
I gazed at the pages again.
"If you're teasing me, this is cruel," I said.
"It would be like teasing myself, like being cruel to myself," he said. "I know this is biting into forbidden fruit, but I would chance being thrown out of Paradise just for one of your kisses," he said.
I started to look at the pages again when his fingers slipped under my chin and gently lifted my face so he could lean over and kiss me softly on the lips. My eyes went wide.
"Arizona," he said. "Your name is branded on the front of my brain."
He kissed me again, this time putting his hands on my shoulders to hold me and draw me closer, making his kiss harder, his tongue moving through his lips and slipping in between mine. Surprised, I sat back.
"I knew you loved me just as much. I knew it," he said and flooded my face with kisses, running his lips down to my neck. His hands went to my waist.
"Spike," I said.
"Trent," he replied, and covered my mouth with his again, his kiss forcing me back on the sofa. His right hand moved off my waist and up over my ribs until he reached my breast.
"Wait," I cried.
"There is no time to wait," he said, still acting as if we were in his scene. But my words were my own. I wasn't reading off a page. In fact, the script had fallen from my hands. Spike pushed me down on the sofa, his lips moving to my chin, my neck and then his fingers separating the jacket of the pants suit so he could lift it and slide his hands under my silk blouse. When his fingers reached my bra, I twisted and turned to break free.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered in my ear. "This is the way grown-ups make love."
"Spike, stop!" I cried. His lifted my bra and soon the tips of his fingers were sliding over the top of my breast, strumming my nipple as his lips continued searching my neck, my face, his left hand against my head, trying to get me to return his kisses.
I brought my knees up higher and then, with all my strength, pushed into his stomach. He lost his balance and fell off the sofa. I didn't wait to give him a chance to recuperate. I shot up and turned away from the sofa, straightening my clothing quickly.
"Are you crazy?" I demanded.
He sat back, a wide, silly grin on his face.
"I'm just getting into my scene. What are you getting so excited about?"
"That's not in your scene," I accused.
"It's what we call improvisation. It helps you to build your part. You get into the character. That's all. Come on," he said, patting the sofa again. "Let's try again and when you get into it--"
"I'm not getting into anything," I said, backing away. "If this is acting, I'd rather do someone's laundry," I added.
He laughed.
"Melody, really--"
"Thanks for the introduction to dramatics," I said, heading for the door. "You should do real well. Good luck," I said and charged out of his apartment, down the stairs, bursting into the sunshine.
Maybe everyone was crazy here. Maybe like Spike said, everyone was moving in his or her own movie. Mommy certainly seemed to be.
Instead of heading back into the house, I walked down the tiled driveway and out to the street. The sky was hazy now and there was a nice cool breeze even though the sun was still strong. Traffic went by at a leisurely pace, people glancing at me curiously. Gardeners trimmed hedges and swept leaves and debris from the fronts of beautiful homes. I walked with my arms folded under my breasts, my heart still pounding from my episode with Spike.