THE SOLDIER

“You want to go back up to the room for more aftercare?” He’s so patient and attentive with me post-scene. I know it’s not his usual way, which makes it all the more addictive.

Again, my roommates would say this is dysfunctional.

I rest my head on his shoulder. I know it’s ridiculous to be this needy. But I have to lean into Pavel to soak up a sense of safety when I’m this wide open.

My phone rings. I’m going to ignore it until I remember that it could be Lara, and then I lunge for my purse.

It is. I swipe across the screen to answer.

“I got you in, darling,” she sing-songs. “It took me all weekend to get someone to take my call, but you’re in. The audition is in ninety minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

“Oh!” I shoot a glance at Pavel, who must have overheard because he nods and throws some bills down on the table. “Great!” My heart’s already pounding like I’m at the audition. “I’ll be there. Thank you.”

Pavel stands the moment I end the call. “You have an audition?” He slides my chair back as I stand, like a gentleman of a bygone time. The behavior is so at odds with his appearance and normal cocky behavior that it makes me a little swoony. But, of course, I’m already in the swooning state.

“Yes, for a television show. This could be my big break.” I sound breathless. My heart’s still rapping against my ribs like my life is in danger. “I’m sorry, I know this is our last few hours.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’ll drive you.”

“Okay.” I flash a smile at him, as my excitement mounts. “I’ll go change.”

I didn’t bring audition clothes, and there’s probably not enough time to go back to my apartment, so I sort through my suitcase for what I have. I decide to wear the red dress I wore last night, just dressed down with a pair of Converse because it’s daytime. It’s quirky and hopefully will be memorable to the casting director.

Pavel packs his things and stays out of my way as I spin around the suite, touching up my makeup and hair and packing my suitcase.

“Okay,” I say when I’m ready.

“You look perfect.” Pavel stacks both our suitcases and takes them with one hand. With the other, he catches my fingers and twines his through them. “You’ve got this.”

We head down in the elevator, and Pavel checks out as I wait for the valet attendant to bring my old car around. Pavel slides behind the wheel and loads the address into his map app on his phone. As the car sails smoothly into traffic, I shiver a little.

“Are you cold?” Pavel turns on the heater and adjusts the vents.

“No, I’m just…”

He takes his eyes away from traffic to look at me.

“I’m freaking out a little bit. I’m nervous. This is usually where I try to channel Sasha because she’s not afraid of anything.”

Pavel lets out a soft scoff. “Yes, Sasha has a pretty high opinion of herself.”

I look at him in surprise. “Do you not like Sasha?”

“Sasha is Sasha.” He shrugs. “She’s the daughter of my former boss and the wife of a brother. I would kill or die for her.”

I blink, stunned by this little glimpse into his world. His loyalty. A code for living. Would he kill or die for me? Remembering his actions at the convenience store, I’m suddenly quite certain he would. And like that night, it turns me on, even as it scares me.

“You two are friends, though, right?”

Pavel shrugs again, like friend isn’t a word he would use with Sasha. “Why are you asking?”

I laugh a little at myself then confess, “I’ve been so jealous of what she has with you.”

He scoffs again. “She has nothing with me. She is my annoying housemate. Nothing more.” His gaze on me is bemused. “You were jealous? Of Sasha?” He can’t seem to believe it.

“She knows you better than I do.”

“Ah.” He sobers. “I understand.” Then he shakes his head. “She knows nothing. You see more of me than I show to anyone else. Don’t ever be jealous of another woman.”

“Why don’t you ever invite me to come to Chicago?”

He gives me a long look. “Because I’m a bastard, and I don’t want to share you. But if you want to come, you’re invited. Any time, Kayla.”Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

“Okay,” I say softly.

“You don’t need to be like Sasha for this audition,” he says, and I catch a little heat in his gaze. “You’re you.”

Wings flap in my chest.

“I’m just scared because I don’t feel like myself. I still feel … raw from our scene.”

“I see.” He picks up my fingers and brings them to his mouth, kissing the backs of them. “Use it. I called you blossom the night we met because I thought you would be easily crushed, but I was wrong. You are a flower-one that blooms under duress. You open wide. That’s your superpower, malysh. So use it. When you’re in that audition, don’t try to hide that openness. There’s no person on this planet who won’t connect with you when you’re like that, period. And if you don’t get this part, then it’s because it wasn’t the right one for you, not because you weren’t absolutely perfect.”

it wasn’t the right one for you, not because you weren’t absolutely perfect.”

I blink back the wetness in my eyes, my chest warm and glowy from his words. I’ve been told before to believe it’s not me, it’s just about the part-we actors tell ourselves this all the time to soothe the sting of rejection. But this time, when Pavel says it, I actually believe it.