Scripted to Be

Chapter Nine: The Pause Between

POV: Lauren

The silence after the kiss was louder than anything else.

Steven hadn't moved yet—not really. One arm still rested near her ribs, the other hovering like he didn't know what to do with it anymore. Her leg was still slung over his. Their mouths were still close enough to share breath, but not touching.

Not now.

Not after that.

Lauren blinked slowly, like her brain was still buffering.

Neither of them spoke.

His chest rose and fell too fast. Hers too slow.

She could still taste him. Feel him. The burn of where his hands had been—even if they hadn't really done anything.

Even if it had only been a kiss.

But it hadn't felt small.

It had felt like the world cracked open beneath them and swallowed the couch whole.

Steven finally spoke. His voice was hoarse. "Okay."

Lauren blinked again. "Okay?"

He looked at her like he was trying to memorize her face and unsee it all at once. "I just... I didn't mean for that to happen."

She nodded once. "I know."

"But I'm also... not sorry."

That made her lips part.

She was about to speak—say me neither or maybe I am, or maybe something honest and quiet and terrifying like I've been waiting for you to do that since the day you stole my fries on set in Season Two—when the front door opened.

"Hey, I couldn't find it in the trunk—" Sonequa's voice drifted in, followed by the sound of her keys hitting the kitchen counter. "I'm just gonna grab—"

Silence.

Lauren didn't have to turn to know exactly what Sonequa was seeing.

Two actors-turned-best-friends tangled up on a couch like they didn't know where the boundaries were anymore.

Steven flinched and pulled back fast.

Lauren sat up straighter, the blanket falling from her lap like it had done something wrong.

Sonequa stood there with one eyebrow raised and an empty grocery bag in her hand.

"Well," she said simply.

Steven ran a hand through his hair and immediately stood like the couch was on fire. "I should, uh—I should check on—something."

Lauren didn't look at him. "Yeah."

He grabbed his jacket. Said nothing more. Not even a goodbye.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And just like that, the silence changed again.

Sonequa slowly walked over to the couch and plopped herself down where Steven had just been, unbothered, calm, very obviously sipping the drama.

Lauren didn't move.

"So..." Sonequa said casually. "Want to tell me why the air in this room just changed pressure like we entered the Bermuda Triangle?"

Lauren stared at the TV.

Sonequa followed her gaze. "Girl, the TV's off."

Lauren sighed. "It was one kiss."

"Sounded like three."