“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Keeping his eyes on the road, he says, “What do you mean?”
“You seem upset about something.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Okay,” I say, and resign myself to a silent ride, knowing from experience that no amount of cajoling will get Sud to talk when he doesn’t want to. When we get there, he walks so quickly, I have to double my steps to keep up with him. I’m not sure he would have held the elevator door for me if I didn’t slip in before it closed.
“You’re obviously angry with me,” I say as the elevator starts its ascent.
“Why would I be?” he asks, looking at the flashing numbers above the door instead of at me.
“I don’t know. I’m asking you!”
Sud gives me a dirty look. The elevator door opens, and he strides out. By the time I reach the common room, he’s already talking to the intimacy coach, P’Arm. In his mid-to-late thirties, he has dark hair that he slicks back from his face and a line of silver rings up both ears. Today he’s wearing a mint green T-shirt that saysLive, Love, Laughacross the front and a well-worn pair of blue jeans. His square-framed glasses match the shirt exactly.
When I reach them, he says, “P’Prapha is working with Boat and Pete tonight. I’ll be working with you two on your NC scenes.”
Butterflies take off in my stomach.
P’Arm smiles. “Prapha tells me you’re already comfortable with each other.”
“We’ve known each other a long time,” I say, glancing at Sud, who doesn’t look at me.
P’Arm nods. “Okay. Let’s start by facing each other and clasping hands.”
We do. Sud continues to ignore me. I squeeze his hands but don’t get a reaction.
“Look into each other’s eyes,” P’Arm says.
Sud manages to drag his gaze to lock with mine.
I raise an eyebrow. Sud shifts his gaze to my chest.
P’Arm clears his throat. “I sense a problem.”
“Just a little argument before we got here,” I say.
“Well, that won’t do. You need to talk it out. You have ten minutes.” He turns away from us and stalks off to talk to three actors who play part of the friend group in the series.
Angry, I drag Sud into one of the side rooms and close the door. He’s acting like a three-year-old. Rounding on him, I say, “You are going to tell me right now what’s crawled up your ass.”
When he doesn’t answer, I go off on him. I don’t get angry easily, but I’ve had it. Uncaring if everyone outside the door hears, I shout, “Tell me what I did right now so I can fix it, dammit!”
That gets Sud’s attention.
“Is it P’Wisit? I mean, that’s all I can come up with. We talked about him in the canteen, and you’ve been mad at me ever since.” Becoming more agitated, I continue, “I still don’t think he’s flirting with me, but even if he is, why do you care? It’s okay for you to date but not for me to do it?” I point at him. “You’ve had at least a dozen girlfriends over the years. Did I ever question you about them? And you know something else? I don’t like it when you call me naïve! I’m not a kid, Sud. We’re the same age. Stop treating me like you treat Ten!”
Confusing feelings crowd my mind. All the times Sud went out with girls. The time Mae and Pah weren’t home, and I realized Sud and his current girlfriend were in his room with the door closed. The way it made me feel the same way my parents do. Chest tight, I gasp for breath and stumble backward, hitting the wall.
“Noi,” Sud says, suddenly very close.
Pushing past him, I yank open the door and run out of the room, past P’Arm and the others and into the hall where I lock myself into the first empty room I come upon. Leaning against the door, hot tears stream down my face as I struggle to catch my breath, hand clutched to my heart.
What the fuck just happened? How did this go from Sud acting like a sulky little kid to me having a tantrum and running out of the workshop to hide in someone’s office?
Feeling like someone’s standing on my chest, I slide to the floor.