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“When’s the audition again?” Debbie asks, her eyes trained on the mirror while she generously hairsprays the roller holding her bangs in place.
She has a date tonight, so she’s half dolled up. It’s a process that Ruth’s always been fascinated by: each swipe of bright blue eyeshadow, each bronze layer at her temples, and her pink, pink blush enhancing her beauty. Her cheeks get sharper, her lips get fuller, and the curl of her eyelashes can send a whole bar full of men crawling on their knees like she’s Helen of Troy. Ruth never feels that way when she puts on makeup. It always feels like she’s painting herself to look like a clown.
Ruth watches her from her own bed, makeup-less, pantsless, hair unwashed and pulled back into a bun. She’d been cramping so badly all day she couldn’t even get up and go to class.
“Tomorrow. I feel awful, but I want this role so badly,” she whines. Ruth unrolls the script she’s carefully highlighted, rereading her notes in the margins. Intention of Deandre is to find inner peace with her sexual desires, she’d written in neat, clean lines; something she definitely relates to.
“You say that about every part,” Debbie says with a snort. She examines her face, turning her chin left then right, finding some invisible spot where she isn’t flawless. She grabs her eyeliner again, but turns to Ruth.
“Can I read it?”
“Sure,” Ruth says, making sure her makeshift heating pad is still pressed to her abdomen as she gets up. She passes it over to Debbie, who skims it with a furrow in her brow.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I know girls like you,” Debbie reads out. Ruth is unprepared. She stiffens her shoulders and thinks for a moment, the words dripping back slowly in her mind. She isn’t off-book yet, but she’s close. Ruth opens her eyes and her gaze meets Debbie’s.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Ruth says, that warm feeling in her chest connecting the two of them, the way it always does when she slips into character.
“I think it’s a big mistake for a small-town girl like you. You girls always think you know what you want, but when push comes to shove, you run away, or fall too deep in the game.”
“I know myself more than you do, Rodney. We’ve just met and you’re already assuming you know better than me just because you’re older—“
Debbie snorts, breaking character to say, “It’s because he’s a man, and men always think they know better. Who wrote this?”
“Gabby, actually. From class. It gets better, from what she was telling me,” Ruth says with a smile. She falls back into it, flint in her eyes: “...Just because you’re older. Well, I know what I want.”
Debbie grins at her. “So do it, then.”
She leans back, offering up her lap, and Ruth clutches at the heating pad, overly conscious of the tug in her groin.
“Is it a chemistry read? Do you actually have to kiss him?” Debbie asks after a pause.
Ruth nods, cheeks flaming. Debbie knows that Ruth’s first kiss was a stage kiss and that she’s never gone further with a boy than a little second-base fondling. It makes her too aware of her body when she can feel their breath on her cheek and hands on her waist; even the thought of kissing her reading partner makes her heart twist uncomfortably. She knows it’ll feed into her performance, because Deandre’s fighting for the same thing, to battle her want and her lust, right? To fight through the drowning feeling of kissing, the panic that flutters in her chest until the dam breaks and she’ll see the awe of wanting someone. Kissing is uncomfortable, because closeness is uncomfortable.
“Well, then practice,” Debbie says. She sets down the eyeliner and tilts her head, grabbing an earring to hook in.
“What?” Ruth says, mouth flopping dumbly. Her heart beats too fast, mind playing a vivid vision of her climbing into Debbie’s lap and kissing her. She’d taste like the lipstick she just applied.
“Practice the kiss. You haven’t kissed anyone since Anything Goes right? That was months ago.” Debbie finishes fastening her earring and raises an eyebrow. She pauses and then exhales through her nose. “Come on! You know I’m right. Your audience is a lot smaller in that casting room. They’re going to see you hesitate. You told me it took you four rehearsals to work up the courage to kiss Todd.”
She’s right.
Ruth nods, just once, then again, setting her jaw. She puts the heating pad away and rolls her shoulders, self-consciously fluffing her hair in an attempt to feel sexy at all.
“So do it, then,” Debbie repeats, opening up her body even more, legs spread as far as they can go in her tight dress. Ruth wets her lips, breath quickening as she strides across the room. Debbie’s gaze intensifies and Ruth gets lost for a second, throat caught up. Debbie’s a good actor, that’s all. Ruth sets herself in her lap, both legs to the right at first, then lifts and readjusts to straddle her and Debbie smiles, amused. There’s less room than she’s used to and she can feel Debbie’s breasts pressed up against her if she leans too far forward. Her sequined dress scratches Ruth’s thighs.
Debbie’s hand steadies her at the small of her back, her soft, perpetually cold hands a shock. Ruth presses forward, forehead to forehead and wonders quietly if some of Debbie’s bronzer will smear on her pale skin.
Their breath mingles for a second. This close, Debbie smells like perfume and hairspray and a little bit of mineral powder. She watches Ruth intently, half-lidded. Ruth leans forward, eyes wide open, and closes the gap. Debbie’s lips are soft, a little sticky from her lipstick. Her heart feels too loud in her chest and there’s no familiar panic that sets in, just a spark, a flood of some unidentified emotion; excitement or desire or —
Debbie cups her face and tilts her chin and deepens the kiss. She hooks her hand under Ruth’s thigh and pulls her closer and Ruth goes, rocking her body forward as they kiss. She makes an embarrassing noise when Debbie licks her way into her mouth and Ruth drops her bottom lip, submitting to it, panting.
Her eyes close and she shivers at Debbie’s teeth nipping her lip gently; her hot, velvet tongue slides in to press against hers. It doesn’t feel too wet, not too much saliva — just enough, makes her shiver when Debbie swirls her tongue and licks the roof of her mouth. She wishes it was deeper. Her mouth fills up, messy. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she tilts her head and presses her tongue against Debbie’s and it makes Debbie groan, makes her pull Ruth in tighter by the waist.
Ruth clings to her, fingers threading through her teased-out hair. Her groin twitches again, and she remembers she has a pad on and with her thighs this spread she could accidentally — Ruth pulls away, their lips making a slick sound at the release. Debbie’s lipstick is smudged at the edges and Ruth’s mouth is throbbing.
Debbie’s thumb presses into her thigh and her eyes are locked on Ruth’s lips, nostrils flaring.
“Um,” Ruth jitters out, flustered as she sits back. “H-how was that?”
Debbie lingers for a moment and flicks her eyes back. She smiles and clears her throat. “It was good. You went for it,” she says, voice strange and stark. Ruth can feel the swirling emotion in her chest shatter. She steadies her breathing and nods, smiling back.
“Okay. Any other notes?” she asks, sliding off of Debbie’s thighs. She smooths out her shirt and goes to sit on the edge of her bed again, heart still thundering.
“No. It was… it was good. It was a good kiss. Just do that and you’ll nail it,” she says, looking back in the mirror to scrutinize her lipstick and sighing when she realizes it’s smudged. It takes five minutes to retouch it with Ponds cream to erase their kiss. Ruth touches her own lips, presses her thumb and forefinger together and pinches her bottom lip lightly.
“Fuck, I’m late,” Debbie says, checking her watch. “How do I look?”
She looks perfect. Especially her lipstick. “You look great. Mark doesn’t even know how lucky he is,” Ruth says, barely managing to smile.
“I know,” Debbie grins. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
Ruth nods. Debbie’s out the door and it locks behind her. “Have fun,” she says, weakly, fingers pressing where Debbie’s cold hands were to keep the feeling there.