breaking and entering

Michael was feeling a little frazzled. Not how he wanted to spend his last few days of freedom. He was supposed to be relaxing, taking time for himself like everyone else. This was the last break before they really put their noses to the grindstone and focused on the last batch of episodes for the season. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been relaxed at all the past week, and shooting started again in just three days.

When he was stressed, he pulled out his acoustic guitar and strummed for hours. But then two strings broke within a minute, so he gave up. He was on his way to his favorite guitar shop now, and he decided to call Tom. Tom understood why he was frazzled.

Michael fumbled with the numbers on his cell phone, trying to keep an eye on the road at the same time. Tom’s house was number 3 on his speed dial.

The truck ahead of him suddenly stopped at a green light, and Michael dropped the phone to grip the steering wheel with both hands as he slammed on the brakes.

“Asshole,” he muttered, reaching around the floor for his phone. He put it to his ear and heard a loud squealing beep, indicating Tom’s answering machine had picked up. Michael moved through the intersection and turned left.

“Hey, Tom. It’s Mike. I’m losing it, seriously losing it. I had another dream about Allison, which is so very wrong because she’s in LA with her fiancé right now. I’m not supposed to be in love with another man’s fiancee. Especially not her. But I can’t help it,” he sighed. “Call me, man. Talk me out of loving her.”

He was just pulling into a parking space in front of the guitar shop when his phone rang. His caller ID told him it was Tom.

“That was fast,” Michael said.

“What was?”

“I just called your house, left a message on your machine.”

“What about?”

“What do you think?”

“Was she naked this time?”

“You know, if you were right here, I’d slap you.”

Tom laughed. “Maybe you should just tell her. You’ll drive yourself batty otherwise.”

“I’m already batty about her.”

“That’s true.”

Michael rolled his eyes.

“Hey,” Tom said, sounding confused. “You said you called my house?”

“Yeah, about five minutes ago.”

“I don’t have any new messages. Are you sure you called my house?”

“Yes, dumbass. What, you think I called Allison?” Michael let out a snort and then stopped, his pulse pounding. “You’re not messing with me, are you? I swear to God, if you’re messing with me-”

“I’m not,” Tom said. “I don’t have any new messages. Who did you call?”

“I don’t know,” Michael said, frowning. “Let me check. I’ll call you back.”

They hung up, and Michael checked his dialed calls list. His heart thumped wildly as he stared at the screen. Instead of number three, he’d hit number four. Number four was...

“Allison!” Michael yelped.

He quickly dialed Tom again and told him his mistake. Tom laughed for two minutes.

“You called her house? And said you loved her?” he hooted.

“I thought I was talking to you. What the hell do I do now?” Michael demanded.

He rubbed his eyes where a massive pain had started.

“Dude, you’re gonna have to fess up,” Tom said, still giggling.

“Ah, fuck you,” Michael said and hung up.

Tom was no help. Now what?

Forgetting about new guitar strings altogether, Michael headed back to his apartment where he paced wildly for an hour. During that time, a plan began to form.

Allison wasn’t due home until tomorrow. There was no one at her house, and she’d probably taken her dog with her. If he could just sneak in, erase the message and sneak out, he’d be in the clear. She’d never know, and he could go back to loving her in private.

Yes, he decided, this is a good plan.

~*~*~

“Rosenbaum, you are an idiot,” he muttered.

Dressed in black and with a black knit cap covering his head, he waited until 10:30 before he drove to her neighborhood. He parked his car two blocks away, pocketed a flashlight and crept through the darkness towards Allison’s house.

Allison rented a small, one-level house in a quiet neighborhood. Michael had been there several times for movie nights and parties. He knew that the answering machine sat by the phone in the kitchen, and that she didn’t have an alarm system.

Crazy, he’d told her, but Allison shrugged and said she hated the concept. Alarms didn’t make her feel safe, they made her feel trapped.

As he walked to her house, keeping his head low, he thought about Allison and why he fell for her. He hadn’t intended to. As a rule, he tried not to get involved with co-stars. But she had walked right up to him that first day on set, shook his hand and introduced herself, and he knew he was in big trouble. While everyone had been fawning over Kristin, Michael found himself studying Allison.

As he got to know her, he realized she was everything he liked in a girl, only better. She was feisty, strong, and she went after what she wanted. After watching her film her first scenes, he was amazed at her talent. Tom confided that it was sometimes hard to keep up with her.

When it was finally time for Michael to do a scene with Allison, he was nervous. He couldn’t maintain eye contact with her and kept dropping his gaze. Unfortunately, the director thought he was ogling her breasts and pulled him aside to chat with him about it.

One night, he’d scurried home with a brown paper bag of DVDs of Allison’s past work. Of course, she was younger in these movies, and he tried to tell himself he wasn’t being pervy, but he still felt like he had just rented porn.

And now, here he was, almost three years later, creeping around her yard. Nope, I’m not a perv at all, he thought sarcastically. He just prayed some nosy neighbor didn’t see him and call the police.

He made his way to the side of the house where he began to check the windows. He didn’t want to be completely stupid and break in through the front. One window was slightly ajar. He stepped between some rose bushes and when he pushed, the window swung open easily. He grabbed the ledge and jumped up, balancing on his stomach. Then he fell forward, hitting the carpet with a thud.

He stood up and checked outside for anyone watching. The coast looked clear so he focused on the task at hand: erasing his highly revealing, but slightly embarrassing confession of love.

He pulled the flashlight from his pocket and aimed the beam low. He was in Allison’s bedroom, which made him gulp. He could see the closet door open, the clothes hanging neatly inside. A mirrored dresser sat against one wall, the mirror covered in photos.

And there was the bed. The queen-size bed with the navy blue striped comforter. Where Allison slept.

He tried to remember to breathe. Have to get out of here, fast, he thought.

He stumbled into the hallway and headed for the kitchen. The answering machine sat on the counter beside the phone. A small red light blinked. He pressed the PLAY button and listened to himself speak.

“Argh, you have to go,” he said. He pressed the DELETE button, marveling at how easy this had turned out.

“Please enter your 4-digit code to erase this message,” the machine told him.

“What? What code?” he asked, panicking.

“Please enter your 4-digit code to erase this message,” the machine said again.

“Shut up, I’m thinking,” Michael said. He punched in four random numbers.

“Incorrect code. Please try again.”

He tried again and the machine denied him. After three times, he was informed that he was locked out and would need to reset the machine.

“Well how the hell do I do that?” he asked it, giving it hard shove in disgust.

He leaned on the counter and cradled his head in his hands. It was hopeless. Allison was going to hear this and think he was a complete nut. He’d never be able to face her again.

“Life is so cruel,” he said and stood up.

He admitted defeat and turned to leave the way he came in, through Allison’s bedroom window. He checked again to make sure no one was looking, then he swung his leg over the ledge and prepared to jump.

A man with a dog walked by, the dog yapped, startling Michael. He lost his balance and fell headfirst into the bushes.

~*~*~

Something warm and wet was rubbing against his face. Michael smiled. This is a good dream, he thought. A gorgeous woman is with me.

“Michael?”

Oh good, she has Allison’s voice.

“Michael!”

His eyes shot open and his vision, while a bit fuzzy around the edges, was still clear enough to see two faces peering at him. One was Allison’s and the other was her dog’s, Phantom. Phantom was currently trying to get intimate with his ear.

“Are you all right?” Allison asked, frowning in concern. She was bent over him, giving him a glimpse down her blouse.

“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Michael asked, confused.

Allison straightened, putting her hands on her hips, taking that glorious view with her. Michael struggled to sit up.

“Well, I came home early to find you unconscious in my rose bushes. Mind telling me why?”

Michael’s face went red as he remembered. He’d been in her house, her bedroom, the kitchen, her bedroom again. He patted himself down, checking to make sure he hadn’t grabbed a pair of her underwear while he was in the bedroom.

“Umm, I can explain,” he said. He looked at her, at her dog now drooling in his lap, and decided no, he couldn’t.

Allison rolled her eyes. “Come inside. I’ll clean you up. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to call a doctor?”

“No, no, I’m fine. In fact, I think I’ll just go home now.”

He got to his feet and wobbled. Allison reached out and grabbed his arms.

“You’re bleeding. Come inside.”

He let her take him around to the front door and into the living room. She helped him sit down on the sofa. Phantom curled up by an armchair and stared at them both.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

“Wait, where are you going?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t check her answering machine. There was still a chance he could erase the message. Maybe if he unplugged it…

“I’m just going to get some antibiotic cream and bandages. You’ve got scratches on your face and hands.”

“Oh, okay.”

He watched her go and then hurried to the kitchen. The red light blinked at him, mocking him. He flipped it the bird and picked up the machine, searching for the cord. Following the cord down towards the outlet, he had his fingers around the plug when he heard, “What the hell are you doing?”

He froze. Allison stared at him in disbelief.

“I thought I saw a spark,” he said, standing up. “Didn’t want your house to burn down.” He gave the machine a loving pat.

“Okay,” Allison said slowly. “Come back to the living room so I can take care of those cuts.”

Reluctantly, he followed her. They sat down on the sofa, and Allison turned to him, cupping his face in one hand and wiping away the blood with a damp cloth.

“Rose bushes have thorns,” she said.

“Ouch, yeah.”

He tried not to stare too deeply into her eyes, but he couldn’t help himself. Allison went to work treating his cuts.

“The makeup department’s going to have a fit,” she said.

“I’ll tell them I cut myself shaving.”

“On your nose?”

“Oh.”

He fell silent as she continued to touch his face, then his hands.

“What were you doing, Michael?” she asked.

He swallowed and took a deep breath, taking in the scent of cinnamon, Allison’s shampoo.

“I, um, it’s a really funny story actually,” he said, laughing a little.

“I’d love to hear it. Because to me, it looks like you were sneaking out of my house, and I don’t want to think that.”

Michael felt his heartbeat quicken at the hint of disappointment in her voice. She put the cap on the antibiotic cream and sat back, her hands folded while she waited for an explanation.

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. Without opening them, he said in a rush, “I left a message on your machine confessing that I’m in love with you, have been for awhile now, only I thought I had called Tom and when I realized I called you, I freaked and came over here to erase it because I knew you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, but I couldn’t erase it because I didn’t have the code, so I was leaving and lost my balance and ended up in the rose bushes.”

He braced himself for hysterical laughter, screaming, or a slap in the face. When nothing happened, he opened his eyes. Allison sat there staring at him, her hands over her mouth, her eyes huge.

“Well, thanks for a lovely evening,” he said, jumping up. “I’ll just let myself out.”

And he ran.

He ran all the way to his car and then sped home.

“I am such an idiot, such an idiot,” he muttered all the way to his apartment. He really feared that he had just ruined a personal and professional relationship with someone he really cared about. How was she supposed to recover from that?

Michael groaned and launched himself facedown on the couch.

“With any luck, I won’t wake up tomorrow,” he said aloud, his voice muffled from the cushions. He raised his head. “Or maybe I’ll go blind so I don’t have to see the look on her face. Yeah, that’s good. Make me blind.”

A light knock came at his door and he went to open it, hoping it was the devil with a pitchfork, ready to poke his eyes out.

“Allison,” he breathed.

Her eyes were wet with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Michael said. “I never meant for you to know.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“Well, you’re engaged. Peter’s a great guy.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and coming inside. Michael took a step back and she closed the door and looked up at him.

“Why do you love me? That’s what I meant,” she said.

“What?”

“Why do you love me?”

“I just do,” Michael said, shrugging helplessly.

“Reasons, I want reasons.”

Michael pursed his lips, thinking before he spoke.

“Because you’re beautiful, loving, smart, brave, and one hell of an actress. Because your dog sheds like crazy all over me, and you let him.” He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “Because whenever I’m around you, I feel alive. You make me want to be a better person. Because I love your smile, and the way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you do.”

Allison sniffled and smiled.

“Because you call me on my bullshit and make me laugh,” Michael continued, his voice soft, his fingers trailing down her cheek. “Because, in a way, you broke into my heart like no one else has. And because my day doesn’t begin until I see you, and it doesn’t end until I hug you goodbye.”

Allison let out a strangled gasp and threw her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. He hugged her back, stroking her hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, feeling totally lousy.

“Michael, shut up.”

“Huh?”

Allison stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Michael’s eyes widened with surprise, and then he relaxed and kissed her back. Her lips were warm and soft, and when her tongue darted inside his mouth, then up over his scar, he felt his brain fizzle.

“Oh,” he said when they broke apart. “Um, I don’t get it. What about Peter?”

“Peter and I broke up a few weeks ago. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Why did you break up?”

“We decided we were better friends, and he didn’t think it was fair to hold onto me when I was in love with someone else.”

“You’re in love with someone else? Who?”

“You mean my kissing you wasn’t enough of a clue?” Allison asked, smiling.

“Oh, me.”

“Yeah, you.”

She kissed him again and all thoughts left his brain.

“You really broke into my house to erase my messages?” she asked a moment later, still comfortably entwined in his arms.

“Yeah. But I didn’t know the code. Since when do answering machines have codes?”

“It’s a really easy code, Michael.”

“Okay, what is it? 1234?”

Allison grinned and kissed his nose.

“Nope. 0711.”

He thought about it until it dawned on him.

She squealed as he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.

~end