“Ouch,” she yelped through her kissing lips. And, shocked into realizing what exactly it was they were doing, she pulled away.

Nick, too, seemed a little surprised. He leaned back into the driver’s seat and ran a hand over his hair. He looked at her, and she looked back, both of their expressions a little scandalized. “Well!” he said.

“Well!”

“Some coffee break!”

“No wonder Starbucks is so popular!”

They both started laughing.

“I better get you home.”

He put the car in gear. Her entire body was humming. It felt nearly audible, it was so strong. She felt like a human tuning fork. Did he?

“Look,” she said as they drove back down Wisconsin Avenue. “Why don’t you just drop me off at the dry cleaners.” No need for the neighbors to see them returning together.

“The dry cleaners?”

“Yeah. Just. Yes.”

So he pulled up to the dry cleaners and she opened the door, looking back at him.

He leaned over and gave her a light goodbye kiss. The kind a husband would give a wife. The kind a lover would give a beloved. But they weren’t either of these things. She relived that moment now, a less complex thing to relive than their harried make-out session. A warm, soft kiss.

It was bad, what they did, no doubt. Poor Ted would be so hurt if he knew. Even if they were living more like siblings than lovers right now, there were still those pesky vows. But it wasn’t a terrible thing, was it? Well, a little terrible, but also a little wonderful. When was the last time her body had lit up that way? It was like being on a diet, she thought. A diet in which someone handed her a bowl of chocolate mousse, and she’d had a small taste. A taste was not the end of the world.

“Allison. Hello, Earth to Allison,” Rainier was waving at her, trying to get her attention.

“What? Sorry,” Allison said, her face heating up as if Rainier might have heard her thoughts.

“We’re going to try the shooting scene one last time,” Rainier said, but Grant’s phone rang. He went outside to take it.

Rainier’s clipboard bounced off the doorway, missing Grant by a few inches. “Go home. All of you. Better yet, go to the hearing. It might be the only chance you get to perform this year.”

Allison put her character shoes and script in her bag.

“I’m going to cancel this show. I swear,” Rainier said.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Allison said.

“You too?”

“We suck, Rainier.” She suddenly understood why Jillian favored the word. It was more satisfying than “stinks.” More to the point.

Rainier laughed. “Ready to testify?”

“Ted’s representing us.”

“Ted? You’re the actor in the family.”

“He’ll do fine. He’s been practicing.”