Blue

Chapter Seven

Looking at the empty file on her laptop, Ilaria grabbed her head in her palms. What was with this huge inspirational lock she was encountering and why was she unable to write down a single phrase? Those were just two annoying questions that tortured her mind. She kept staring at the white screen, trying to summon her talent until her eyes began hurting and tears threatened to occur in the corners, so she realized a deep sound of frustration and laid on the bed, feeling too angry to do anything else but stay. It had been a rough week; meeting the director and settling the terms were the easiest part. Having to read her book again and try to rewrite it as a script sucked the life out of her. She loved being a writer, but trying to express the emotions her book transmitted in lines for Sergei and Natalia was damn hard and somehow even more frustrating than the thought of them back together. Struggling to resist the urge of touching him every time they met - and God knows they had met a lot- was tiring enough. Adding on the top of that the idea of her heroine being played by Natalia made her clench her teeth and want to sabotage her own work. It was as if her brain simply refused to produce any line for Beatrice, as images of Natalia kept popping up, turning her character into the ballerina.

On the other hand, Ethan had plenty of lines, one more romantic than the previous, with the simple problem that none of them were addressed to Beatrice but to Ilaria herself. Telling all this to Leslie resulted in receiving the same advice she got the first day she arrived in Yachats: get drunk, have s*x and release the s****l tension that's obsessing the mind. Because Leslie seemed to believe her physical attraction for Sergei was the cause of all the complications in her life and by having him she could finally go back to being the cerebral Ilaria she knew. And April agreed. Fascinating indeed.

The door-bell rang in the house and it took Ilaria a bit to realize it was probably for the second time. She stood up, feeling extremely dizzy and stumbled across the stairs, until she reached the door. Sergei was there, and that didn't surprise her at all. It was as if that was meant to happen and, repeating her friends' words inside her mind, she grabbed him by the shirt, pressing her mouth over his before allowing him to say anything. He tensed up immediately, but didn't pull away, which Ilaria took as a good sign, turning the kiss into a deeper, more desperate one. His lips were soft, tasting sweeter than anything she could remember and, becoming less and less tensed, getting over the surprise, Sergei pulled her closer, wrapping his hands around her and kissing her back. Desperate and needy, she ran her hands through his hair, pulling him closer and closer as his lips start moving towards her neck, biting and licking every single spot. This wasn't him, choosing her over Natalia and she was well aware; it was just him wanting her. Just as she wanted to relieve the aching s****l frustration that had been haunting her. Just s*x. So instead of letting the small voice in her head talk her into stopping, she started unbuttoning his shirt, button by button, touching every inch of skin she could lay her hand on, curling her fingers into his muscles. In a short break, he made her t-shirt disappear, staring at Ilaria's black bra, his eyes wider. For a moment, he tried to drag his focus to her face and he was successful for a short second, before it dropped back to her cleavage. Before even realizing it, they were back kissing and touching and trying to get rid of their number one enemy - the clothes, that, for some time seem to win, as neither of them could stop kissing and biting enough to get the textile off the other. Another short break, to get rid of the annoying jeans that just refused to come off, and Sergei stared at her, at her face and whole body, his lips forming some words that Ilaria struggled to understand.

" You are so sweet. "

But it wasn't his voice. Those were his words but not his voice. In an instant, Ilaria opened her eyes, finding April standing over her, watching her sleep with the blanket and the pillow in a mess and her hands firmly molesting the bed beneath her.

"Shit."

Stupid, useless brain! Unless brain that allowed her to have such stupid, stupid dreams. She could not dream about Sergei. It was off limits. She could not!

Moaning in frustration, she stared at the redhead.

" What are you doing here?"

"I believe I've just stopped you from molesting you own bed." Ilaria rolled her eyes. " Anyway, Sergei is downstairs. He seems pretty angry."

Ilaria sighed and laid back.

" So angry he wanted to come here himself."

" What?"

" Yep. Apparently you were lucky enough to have a guardian angel- me- to come here and prevent him from waking you up from your ...fantasy."

" Shit."

" Yet, I can't help but wonder; how would have it been to wake up and see the very same person you were fantasizing about standing over you?"

Ilaria gave her what she hoped was a sexy look.

" Well, I've just found out."

April chocked while laughing, as Ilaria left the bed, arranging herself quickly and going downstairs.

" You could as well live here, " started Ilaria ironically, but seeing Sergei walking around her living with a nervous rhythm, made the sentence dye in her throat.  " What happened?"

" She doesn't want to play."

" What?"

" She doesn't want to be the other leading actor. She mumbled something about how wonderful of me to come and seek the writer of one of her favorite books, but she cannot do it. "

Ilaria stared at him incredulously. Natalia was refusing to take the chance to get back with him? With him? Dear Lord, she must have been insane.

" But there must be something we can do. Or the producer. Or..."

" I will go to talk to her. Not through the phone, but face to face. I will convince her, because I don't know how else I could go through this. Not without her. But before I go, I felt I owed you an explanation. Good luck with the script. "

And without adding anything else, he stormed out, letting Ilaria stand in the middle of her living room, with a long face.