Tatum's Tears | On Hold

Chapter 17 - ❝Let Lips Do What Hands Do,❞

DEDICATED TO puppyloverAylin :)

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Chapter 17 - ❝Let Lips Do What Hands Do,❞

It's time.

'Don't worry, things will be just fine. You can do this,' Seneca's last words before Tatum had stepped onstage echoed in her mind, and Tatum had to repeat them over and over in her head, ignoring the tiny smidgen of guilt that it brought along with them because she had called that night after Angier had left and canceled their pub-crawl plans, much to the Mordecais' surprise as Tatum had been the one who'd been almost ready to threaten their lives if they didn't find help fast.

And she had also conveniently left out the fact that Angier had kissed her.

She didn't know how to admit it without sounding like the whore who came in between the happy couple.

Despite the fact that it had not been her who had initiated the kiss.

Tatum's eyes roamed over to the side where the audience—most of the cast and some eager supporters/friends, were seated. Her gaze immediately caught onto the fiery red hair of her new female best friend, who upon meeting her eyes gave her a wide smile and two thumbs up. Micajah, who was seated beside her, smiled widely in an encouraging manner as well. Yeah, they'd decided to come and show their support, in spite of their busy schedules.

Ezra was off somewhere doing something—either with his Mate or pranking her, and Tatum was thankful that his larger-than-life presence was absent because he could be quite distracting and she would bet her right hand that he would tease the life out of her after the scene was over.

At least, Seneca and Micajah would let her off the hook after a while.

"You ready?" Angier's whispered voice made her turn back to the source, who was looking pretty nervous and slightly disheveled as well. His dark blond hair seemed to flop over his forehead in an unruly mess as usual, but only this time it wasn't the carefully-styled messy look he went for. It was an I-ran-my-hands-through-it-a-million-times and I-don't-care-how-it-looks kind of a mess.

What Tatum couldn't swallow was the fact that it made him look like a model on the cover of GQ, anyway.

Or Abercrombie & Fitch, when he rarely dressed up a tad preppier than usual.

"Tatum?" He prompted again, and she had to think for a quick second to recall what he had just asked.

Oh, "Yeah, I guess."

"Alright," Angier nodded to himself, biting his upper lip slightly and then smiling at her, "I think it'll be fine."

Tatum wondered if it was bad timing but then decided to do it anyway, opening her mouth to ask him if he had told Francesca about Friday, but just then, all the other lights dimmed and the stage lights focusing on the middle was switched on.

Silence fell across the hall as everyone waited for the two of them to begin. She took a deep breath and assumed position, and Angier walked up to her with a perfectly flirty grin etched on to place, having already fallen into character while she'd been contemplating her question, "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Phew, this is good. You're just playing a role, Tatum. Keep that in mind.

She kept that thought firmly in the back of her mind as she flirted back as Juliet to her Romeo, smiling and leaning forward slightly, "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints—"