Stage Kiss

Prologue

I stand against the wall off stage left, closest to the stage manager who's striking purple hair nauseates me. The fake glasses that set my timid character at the start of the play make me perk up; strumming my fingertips against the cool wall settles the anxiety that claws at my neck, wrapping itself within and without seemingly taunting me for it's debut. And it angers me, the devil that wraps its thrumming struggle onto my bare skin. I close my eyes and subconsciously beg for the closing shadows to still and release me for just a few hours.

The city lights have yet to fade, and the soothing measures of its stability enable me to breathe, in and out. The tension in my head lessens and the corners of my lips raise as the warmth of his familiar hand slides across my forearm. "Elena," he whispers into my ear. "Relax," he reassures. And I love the way he says my name but it's so easy for him to say what everybody else says 'relax', the five letter words that pain me.

It isn't that easy.

But I ease into the subconscious of my brain anyways, letting the pheromones encompass my drifting body. And within seconds I'm begging for the closeness of the space that etches itself into the dark of the stage forever to end. I want to tell him to give into me, to take away the prison that bounds me to its walls. Because the stain of his lips on mine is an easy distraction.

My fluttering lids decide to open, fully and my eyes begin to settle into the darkness, relaxing.

Karen, the purple haired stage manager whispers into her mic and looks over at us. "Garret, places please," and he obeys, nodding his head and smiles at me. His lips brush against my cheek and he whispers encouragement. Our eyes meet, looking out of the corners of our eyes. And we're so close, I just want him all. But he's walking away now, closing over the corner of the foreground curtain. Karen pulls at my finger and I follow, standing in the middle wing as the house lights begin to fade.

I'm screaming inside. I'm melting and swirling and combusting and revolving around a bowl of unstable, colliding emotions. All in one, they follow suit, pouring themselves within me.

And all at once, the opening orchestra strings at once, together in unison like EDM met Beethoven in a breakout collaboration that pulls the curtains open. I swear I heard the breaths of the crowd release as the set glowed awake and suddenly I'm walking. I'm not Elena Santos anymore but Kenna St. James, a character of likable measures with dreams far too grand for reality. But I've managed to get this far because of a stellar audition that's landed me as a buzzing actress across Playbills and digital billboards across the Big Apple.

And I'm smiling. I'm saying my lines and there's laughter coming from the audience. In comes Garret Striver, America's honey laced smiling douchebag who I've fallen for, completely over doing the expense of ones experience of falling for a person. And at the exact moment a spotlight rains on me and the fourth wall breaks, I look into the dark expanse of the audience and remember the stage kiss that landed me here.