Act Two

It most certainly wasn't an accident. He's kicked the back of your seat exactly 15 times since the play began.

At first you thought perhaps it was just him settling his bad leg into the limited space but now you know it's the beginning of a game. Like pulling the pigtails of the school girl who sits at the desk in front of you, only a lot more secretive.

You long to turn around and give him a stare. Occasionally, you have the power to silence him, but away from the comforts of the hospital, you're not so sure.

CC sits beside you enthralled by the events unfolding on the stage. His face lifts and falls with the drama. CC might be one of your best friends but you can't help wishing that just once he could try to act a little less camp. After all, House is sitting right behind you with a beautiful female companion – a date? – and here you are in your very own episode of Will and Grace.

It's pretty obvious who's going to get lucky tonight, and unless CC makes a move on one of the cute guys serving ice cream during the interval, the recipient is not sitting on your row.

The interval finally comes and CC turns to you: "Wow. Wasn't that something?"

"Definitely something," you whisper to keep the conversation out of House's earshot.

"I'm going to get some ice-cream, you want one?"

You shake your head. CC rises and sets off down the aisle looking like America's next top model. House's companion catches up with him and they head out to the foyer.

You sit for a moment, knowing he is right behind you, until you can stand it no more and find yourself turning and taking a deep breath.

Damn it. He isn't even looking at you. All of those spine tingling moments when you were sure you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head and here he is scrutinising his programme.

Now what to do? He knows you are looking at him. You can't just turn back around.

"Macbeth?" You say, casually.

He looks up. Mock surprise.

"Wow," he sniffs, turning a page, "You sure don't have any regard for the traditions of the theater. I think you're supposed to call it The Scottish Play."

"I didn't think this would…" you notice that he's drawn moustaches on the actor's photos.

House shifts in his seat: "Well, I was thinking: 'where do you bring the woman who considers The L Word highbrow culture?'"

For a split second you think he's talking about you. But then you remember her. You long to know what's going on. Like you have a right to know why he's with her.

He looks hard at you: "You never mentioned CC."

You freeze under his stare, feeling it prick you, your self-confidence ebbing away.

"CC is…" Could you pretend that he's your boyfriend? Should you? Would it make a difference?

"CC owns that restaurant on Oakland, right? I could have been enjoying free pasta by association all of these months."

"CC doesn't offer free pasta to just anybody," you say, hoping for mysterious, settling for slightly disturbing.

"I guess we're both not his type then. Right?"

He returns to his programme and you allow yourself a moment to properly look at him. The most obvious difference is that he's shaved. His face is completely smooth. A line has appeared on his chin like an arrow up to his lips. You wander how it would feel to touch his face and at that very moment Amanda returns and unbelievably does just that.

It's a simple enough gesture. She hands him a tiny ice-cream tub and he takes it from her without so much as a thank you. And then. Then she does it. Casually. Pats the side of his cheek. The soft skin that barely sees the light of day. Like it means nothing. Like physicality with House is easy.

And you are dumbstruck.

And he is tucking into his ice-cream.

And you turn back around quickly.

CC rejoins you. He's beaming from ear to ear.

"Long queue?"

"Sure," he murmurs, "I got talking."

"Really?" You say. Not surprised.

"Oh sure." You watch curiously as CC's chocolate brown eyes slowly raise and move left. He is referring to Amanda. "So, you wanna know what the deal is?"

"I don't care." You lie.

"Well, neither does she," he says quietly as he licks the lids of the ice cream tub in a provocative fashion, "Two nights. Big empty hotel room. Looking to get laid."

Suddenly the lights dim and the second half begins. Your heart isn't in it though. MacBeth might have the three witches voices going around and around in his head driving him to distraction but you have the vision of House and Amanda getting down to it, and quite frankly, you can't decide which is more disturbing.

This time there is no chair kicking and you can't feel his eyes penetrating the back of your head. And when you drop your programme just so you can steal an upside glance behind you, you see that she is holding his hand. Or he is holding hers.

And when Lady Macbeth completely loses it and her world starts to crumble you feel that perhaps you are starting to understand just how she feels.