Maybe Lynn really was too much of a distraction. He had tried his damnedest to keep focused, to let the scene unfurl in his mind and breathe life into it, but she was a thorn in his performance.
Jesus, he got an erection in the middle of the scene.
The mere thought of the kiss made his balls draw up tight and he had to carefully adjust himself on the seat to keep from rubbing across the seams of his pants. That kiss was going to haunt him for the next week.
They didn’t just kiss, they had made out during a professional audition. It was blatantly disrespectful and he’d been sabotaged by his own goddamn dick.
But fuck. He would do it again in a second.
College-aged girls were so exciting, so full of life, in comparison to the hardened, older actresses. They’d been ridden hard and spit out by the theater community for so long, it was like riding a unicycle, falling over sloppily every way you turned.
Fresh faces were so rare these days, but how he loved them. Matthew wanted to take her unburdened spirit and bathe in it.
Maybe even fuck her, loudly, in it.
Lynn was a taste of the fountain of youth and she was sinfully delicious. Except that she cost him his last goddamn audition of the summer, maybe of his life—if he was feeling particularly melodramatic. Call it a side effect of living the artist’s life.
Then again, maybe their chemistry helped convey something more powerful than the others. They were Vance and Fiona, fighting for their relationship, up on that stage.
Or at least he was.