Backstage Kisses

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” I grumbled, yanking the drill out of Giggles’ hands. He was pathetically trying to get a stripped screw out of a 2x4 and failing horribly. With a little bit of pressure, I got the threaded piece of metal out in one shot, causing him to stare at me as if I had just grown horns. “It’s not that difficult, dude.”
I turned to walk away and ran into the thick scent of spice and smoke. A warm arm brushed past my shoulder, and I turned to meet my TD’s brown eyes. I really wasn’t expecting it, so I stepped back a bit. Damn, I was always really awkward around him. I didn’t mean to be, but I guess it was just what happened when you found someone more attractive than you should have.
“You guys doing alright out here?” Nick asked, observing the situation. I suspected he also thought lowly of Giggles, as most of us did. He gave the structure they were working on a good shake, making sure it was stable. The cube didn’t budge, and Nick gave a satisfied grunt. “Cool. Just add some more screws and stuff and I’ll tell you what to do next.”
He turned to look at me, because I probably looked lost. It was a trademark thing that happened every day almost. I would stand around doing nothing, and wait for Nick to show up by the desk where he set his things to tell me what to do. The comment was always, “Why do you always look so lost?” I attributed my lost-ness to the fact that I was used to a completely different way of running things than he had established.
“You’re lost again, aren’t you?” He asked, sighing. He motioned for me to follow him, and I did. I trailed behind him like his shadow, causing Chuckles to give me a suspicious stare. He was one of the only kids on crew that knew that I thought Nick was attractive, and on top of that he was moderately protective of me.

“Know how to use the circular saw?” Nick questioned. Everything was professional with him, so I wasn’t even sure that I was taught the right way. Up until recently, we relied on upperclassmen to teach the new people how to do things. I, of course, picked up on most of my technique from one of the laziest upperclassmen in the book: Andrew.

I shrugged. “No. I mean, yes. I don’t know,” I answered. Apparently forming sentences wasn’t my thing today. My nails dug into my palms in mild frustration. Why did his presence do this to me? The guy was a good seven years older than me, and with his facial hair he looked at least 10 years my senior if not more. The way his hair was slicked back to the way his tattoos were arranged on his body, everything was neat and tidy.

“It’s a yes or no question,” he sighed, looking over the papers on his makeshift desk. It was cluttered, uncharacteristic of him. He always had everything in a place, but the clutter could have been attributed to our art director, Casey. His hands laid on the edge of the table, as he read over some plans for the next piece we were supposed to tackle.

“I don’t know if I was taught to do it properly, but I know how to make a cut and stuff,” I explained, crossing one foot over the other. It was what I did when I was uncomfortable, and I did it a lot: way too much for my own good, if you asked me. Maybe this instance was due to the fact that my teacher had assigned a way too good looking guy to look after us, but I knew that I wanted him to teach me everything I needed to know.

“I guess I’ll just have to teach you then,” he said in mock annoyance. Nick had always given me sass, but when I asked the rest of the crew, they didn’t receive the same from him. I had always admired sassy people, because there was something familiar about the instant, sarcastic response level that made me feel at ease.

The saw had been set up from him making several other cuts for groups, so the only thing to do was mark the wood according to the cut that had to be made. Saw dust practically coated the floor of the back hall where we did our work, making it a particularly slippery area. At this point, the slipperiness was something that I had become accustomed to, so navigating the area wasn’t particularly hard.

“Do you know how to mark it?” he asked, watching me pick up the piece that was already marked at the ends where it needed cut. I nodded slowly and set the ¾” panelling on the sawhorses. The next task was to find the chalk-line, or steal it from another group. I turned to look for it, but not before muttering “chalk-line” under my breath so he knew where I was going.

“Bryant!” I yelled, entering the shop. There were only two people in the large excuse for a closet, and one of them had the chalk-line in their hand trying to measure out a piece of 2x4. “Firstly, you mark wood with pencil, and secondly, I need that chalk line, you piece of shit.” I stomped angrily up to them and took the chalk-line forcefully from Bryant’s hands. He knew I wasn’t being serious, but I still felt the need to make it at least seem like I was authoritative.
I wandered back out to the hallway and lined up the chalk-coated piece of thread with the marks the previous team had written. With one hand, I pinned the line tightly to the wood, making sure that there was a lot of tension in the string. With the other, I pulled up the string and snapped it back down on the wood to make a thin, straight line connecting the points that were laid out for me.
“I told you I knew how to mark it,” I stuck my tongue out at the older man, and set the piece so the line didn’t run across either of the sawhorses. I figured if he gave me sass, I could give it right back, and luckily he was in a good mood today. As I bent to pick up the goggles that had fallen on the floor, I felt a gaze on me. A blush crept to my cheeks as I picked up both of the pairs that were slightly buried under saw dust. Without making eye contact, I handed him a pair.
“I’ll show you this time, and then you can teach everyone else,” Nick explained, sliding his goggles over his eyes. I did the same and lined the saw up with the fresh line of chalk. Nick was very close behind me. His leg touched mine as he stood directly to my right. I tried hard to focus on the task at hand, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as I felt his warmth engulf me.
Carefully, I pulled the saw back and started the blade. My nervousness caused me to start lightly trembling, making it difficult to move the saw forward. I put pressure on it, but the saw only moved really slowly. Nick sensed my uneasiness and reached forward to place his hand on top of mine and help me guide the machine forward. I started to feel relieved, but I relaxed too much and ended up nearly falling when I needed to move closer to the wood. His free arm wrapped around my waist, making sure I didn’t fall. My shirt was partially riding up, so his hand landed on my bare skin.
I almost lost my focus when I felt Nick’s warm fingers grip my hip. He nearly forced me into him as we finished the cut together. I slid my goggles off and let them fall to the floor, not really caring where they went. He did the same and as soon as the saw was down, I glanced at him. His brown eyes met my own, and he stared at me for a few minutes before pressing his lips to mine.
I don’t want to be cliché, but though that kiss was very, very against every policy in the book, it still felt amazingly good. It took me a few seconds to realize that I was kissing a guy that was supposed to be my teacher and he was very much older than me. I quickly regained a sense of reality and pulled away, taking the piece of paneling.
“I’ll, uh, go give this to Chuckles and Angie then,” I quickly made my exit and found Chuckles with ease. He wasn’t that far away, only a few feet once I rounded the corner. He gave me a rather concerned look when he saw my expression. I wasn’t entirely sure what my face looked like, but it probably looked either stunned or grossed out.
“Aw, Leah, did you find another spider in scene shop?” Chuckles teased, taking the piece of wood from my practically limp hands. Apparently, my face was stunned then. I shook my head at him and exhaled. I actually kind of wanted to cry, but more out of frustration than anything.
“I’ll tell you later, Chucks,” I shooed him away, and hid in the safety of asking Casey for help. The rest of the practice I skillfully avoided Nick, always helping people and trying to make sure everyone on crew was comfortable. He kept giving me looks that made me want to walk over and apologize to him, even though I had really done nothing wrong.
After our mandatory five minute pep talk at the end, I went to gather my things, making sure to be quick when I pulled on my tight pleather jacket. The thing barely fit me, but I still kept it simply because it made me look like a badass. I picked up my backpack, covered in pins, and was about to leave when a large hand caught my shoulder.
“Can I talk to you?” It was Nick. He looked really childish in this moment, like he had a crush. His other hand rested in his pocket, probably clutching his phone, or maybe a pack of cigarettes; though I had a feeling he wasn’t one to smoke. I immediately sunk my teeth into my bottom lip; I didn’t want to go. I knew if I said no, he’d question it, so I simply nodded and followed him to part of the wings that were hardly ever used.
We stood awkwardly across from each other in front of the prom-closet. By the way he messed with his hands; I could tell he felt awkward too. As long as I wasn’t the only one, then I was okay with it. I knew he wouldn’t try anything worse than earlier. At least I hoped.
“I’m really sorry about earlier. My judgment was off, and I just thought you felt the same, but it’s cool, I totally understand,” Nick started, trying to shoot everything down. I looked at him for a couple of seconds, trying to pin the emotion in his eyes. It wasn’t anything I’d seen before. He opened his mouth to speak again, but I didn’t let him start. Instead, I got up on my tip-toes, and kissed him again. I was more confident this time, and much more needy.
Nick’s large hands rested on my hips as he pulled me close to him. I inhaled his scent again, letting it fill my lungs as I put my hands on the back of his neck, pulling him close to me. My fingers curled into the hardened ends of his hair. It was so covered in gel, but I really didn’t care. I wanted to tear the clothes off of him right here, but we both knew it was too questionable.
Once we pulled apart, he moved one hand to my neck and held me so my head was resting on his chest. His heartbeat was erratic, but mine was as well. We stood like that for a while before he finally spoke. “Can I take you home?” He asked, resting his chin on my head.
“If you want, but you’ll have to skillfully avoid us being caught by cameras,” I reminded him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “My mom was going to be like 30 minutes late anyway. I’ll just tell her not to come.”
“Cool,” Nick answered, and I could hear the smile in his voice. The fact that this was practically forbidden made me want it even more. I sighed and let go of him so we could walk to his truck.