SCENE 1
SETTING:
The interior of Adam’s car. (This can be staged simply with two chairs side-by-side downstage, facing the audience as if looking through a windshield).
AT RISE:
The stage is dimly lit. A soft sound of LIGHT RAIN begins to patter against the roof.
PARIS is aggressively flipping through a stack of index cards, muttering to herself. She is a ball of anxious energy.
ADAM sits relaxed beside her, one hand loosely on the steering wheel, watching her with a fond, amused smile.
PARIS
(Frantic, tapping an index card)
Okay, quick quiz. Aunt Sylvia asks how we met. What do you say?
ADAM
(Calm, effortless)
We met at the local coffee shop. I spilled my dark roast on your pristine, color-coded spreadsheet, and instead of screaming at me, you politely told me I lacked basic motor skills. It was love at first sight.
PARIS
(Squinting at the card)
Good. Accurate. Now, Uncle Greg. He’s going to ask about your five-year career plan to see if you’re "good enough" for me.
ADAM
(Laughs softly)
Paris, breathe. Look at me.
PARIS
(Doesn't look up)
I can't breathe, Adam. My family is a pack of wolves disguised as overbearing matchmakers. If they smell a hint of singlehood on me, they will hunt down every available bachelor within a fifty-mile radius and force me into awkward small talk over potato salad. You are my shield. You have to be perfect.
ADAM
(He reaches over, gently taking the index cards out of her hands and setting them on the dashboard)
Paris. Look at me.
PARIS
(She finally stops, looking at him, flustered)
What?
ADAM
(His voice drops to that steady, anchoring tone)
I’ve known you since college. I know you take your coffee with exactly two sugars, I know you pace when you're stressed, and I know you pretend to hate romance movies even though you cried during The Notebook. I don't need flashcards to fake loving you. It’s the easiest test I’ll ever take.
PARIS
(Stares at him, completely caught off guard. Her breath catches.)
Adam... that’s... you’re really good at this acting thing.
ADAM
(He holds her gaze a second too long, his smile turning a bit softer, a bit more serious)
Yeah. Acting.
(He looks out the windshield as the rain starts to fall a little harder)
Come on. Let’s go inside and save you from the potato salad.