While We Were Dating

by Jasmine Guillory

  He’d gotten all the way into the room, chatting merrily to Anna, before he looked up and saw Ben, placidly eating a piece of bacon.

  “Good morning.” Ben stood up. “Anna, looks like you have some business to talk about, and I should take off anyway. Thanks for breakfast.”

  Half of her was grateful to him for leaving right away and making this easy on her, but the other half of her wanted to stop him, tell him to stay. But she knew she couldn’t, not with Simon there.

  “Thanks to you, too,” she said, her voice as bland and businesslike as she could make it. “Simon, this is Ben Stephens, he’s the lead at the ad agency for the phone shoot. We were just talking about the plans for the rollout of the ad campaign. Ben, this is Simon Drake, my manager.”

  Ben shook Simon’s hand and saluted to her.

  “See you on set,” he said before he disappeared out the door.

  Simon took the top off of his travel coffee mug and picked up the pot of coffee on the room service tray.

  “I knew you’d have plenty of coffee for me, bless you. How’s this shoot going, anyway?”

  Oh thank goodness, he’d bought it. Anna did not want to deal with Simon questioning her about Ben and her love life and everything else this morning. She must have pulled off the business-breakfast pretense.

  She filled Simon in on the shoot and let him rant about Aidan’s sister’s atrocious wedding color scheme as they drained the pot of coffee.

  “Now, before we discuss both Vigilantes and our strategy for getting you that Varon film, one quick question: How long have you been sleeping with . . . Ben, is it?”

  Anna panicked for a split second but recovered quickly.

  “Simon, are you at the point where you think I’m sleeping with every attractive man? We’re working together, remember? I don’t do that.”

  Simon just smiled.

  “I know you don’t do that, which is why I’m certain there’s a very good story to explain why you did it this time. And while I’d love to know it, you don’t need to tell me. I mean, if it’s really good, please tell me so I can leak it, but otherwise, I’ll make sure the press knows you fell for him after you wrapped the shoot. Oh, you’re an angel, this is going to be so good.”

  Anna stood all the way up.

  “After? The press? Simon, what the hell are you talking about?”

  The man actually rubbed his hands together.

  “Anna! Wasn’t this your plan all along? Don’t you see? This is just what we need for your Vigilantes promo! This is our answer to the Varon film problem! The studio doesn’t think you have enough star power to be a box office draw—the news of your secret relationship hitting the tabloids will show what a star you actually are! Everyone will be talking about you. All you need to do is keep this guy on a string—which won’t be hard, given the way he looked at you when he walked out of the room—and we’ve got a few good weeks of stories, maybe even more. Just in time for you to get the role.”

  This definitely hadn’t been her plan all along. She didn’t want to drag Ben into all of this.

  “Why not set me up with some actor slash fake boyfriend? Won’t that make my profile way higher?”

  Simon held up a finger.

  “I’ve obviously been putting out feelers about that, but—”

  “What? You have?”

  Simon looked exasperated.

  “Of course I have. But the only people available are either not high-profile enough for you, or they’re assholes. And while I know you think I’d do anything for business, I’d never set you up with one of those guys.”

  She was weirdly touched by that.

  “Thanks, I appreciate it,” she said. “But if I can’t date someone who isn’t high-profile enough for me, why would you want me to date Ben, who isn’t famous at all?”

  Simon grinned.

  “Oh, but true love gets headlines no matter what. Forbidden love? A secret relationship with an unknown? Especially one that attractive?” He closed his eyes. “Ahhh, the ways I’ll be able to spin this are just incredible.”

  She needed to slow Simon down.

  “Wait, but what if he doesn’t—”

  Simon opened his eyes.

  “Don’t worry—he obviously won’t know it’s fake! That’s far too dangerous, civilians don’t understand this stuff. Plus, what if he decided to make a little extra money and sell this story? That would be a nightmare. Just make him think you’re going to keep this on-set fling going after you go back to L.A., that you care so much about him, you want to make it work, blah blah blah. You’re a great actor—that’s the easy part.”

  How was Simon starting to convince her of this? No, she couldn’t do this to Ben.

  “Simon, this seems like a terrible idea, for so many reasons. And you know I don’t love talking about my personal life in the press.”

  He patted her on the shoulder.

  “I know, but isn’t that how we got into this predicament in the first place, where we need to get you extra press to pump up your box office draw? Remember: control the narrative. Eyes on the prize, Anna, and the prize is that Varon film, and I know how much you want it.”

  He was right about that. But there must be another way.

  “I can’t—”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “If you get bored by this guy—or if you’re already getting bored—you won’t have to string him along for more than a month or so. Hey, when does the shoot end?”

  She definitely wasn’t getting bored by Ben.

  “The shoot ends tomorrow, if all goes well,” she said. “Despite some delays, we’re right on schedule. I’m supposed to go back to L.A. on Saturday night. But, Simon—”

  “Excellent. Tomorrow night: bring him to the swanky rooftop bar here. I’ll make sure a photographer is there to get snaps of you two looking cozy. Then get him to come down to visit you in L.A.—you can give him the ultimate Hollywood star kind of visit. You’ll bring him along to the Vigilantes premiere; that’ll get you a ton of buzz. You can get rid of him after that.”

  This would never work. Anna opened her mouth to tell Simon that, when he checked his watch and jumped up.

  “I have to run. Remember, tomorrow night at the bar. We’ll text about the timing. I’ll arrange everything.” He gave her a hug. “What a productive meeting this was. I’m so glad I was early.”

  He left in a flurry, with Anna staring speechless at the door.

  Twelve

  Ben slowly got dressed the next morning before work. Would today be the last time he’d ever see Anna in person? Probably. Almost definitely, he was pretty sure.

  She’d been weird yesterday. Not in the morning, not during and after their great suitcase caper through the streets of San Francisco. But afterward, when they’d both been at the shoot. He knew that obviously they couldn’t let anyone know they were sleeping together—or had slept together? He wished he knew.

  Probably the latter, because she’d barely looked at him all day. Before—before Palm Springs—they’d been friendly on set, laughing and joking around sometimes, or even just smiling at each other when something funny happened. Even after Palm Springs, even though Anna had kind of avoided him on set when she was around him, she’d treated him like nothing had ever happened between them, like they hadn’t taken two long drives where they talked about their families and relationships and struggles—well, mostly she had, but still—and had a night and morning of fucking fantastic sex. That she’d been able to go back to treating him exactly the same as before had stung, even though he’d understood why she’d done it, and he’d tried—and, he’d thought, mostly succeeded—to treat her the same as he had before, too.

  But the day before, he’d arrived on set expecting her to have a shared twinkle in her eye with him when they saw each other for the first time after the great suitcase adventure; but she
’d barely even glanced at him when he’d walked into the room, and had gone right back to responding to whatever her hairstylist was saying. He’d tried to catch her eye a few times throughout the day, even though he knew he shouldn’t, but nothing worked. Did she not want him to assume they’d see each other again—alone—before she went back to L.A.? If that was the case, fine, he was clear on where she stood, but did she really have to ice him out like this? Despite . . . everything, he’d thought they were friends.

  He’d almost texted her when he got home the night before. He’d gone so far as to pull up her name on his phone. Their last texts had been the suitcase pictures that Maddie had taken in the hotel lobby—he and Theo both looked like they were desperately trying to keep straight faces, which was accurate, and you could just barely see the flash of Anna’s yellow dress from the side of the suitcase where they’d left the zipper open a bit so she could breathe.

  But he hadn’t done it. Anna had so far made it very clear when she wanted him—he wouldn’t push her.

  When he got to the set, he told himself he wasn’t going to look around for her, but he did it anyway. She was over at the coffee table, filling up her cup and laughing and chatting with the caterers. Why did she have to be so fucking nice to everyone? This would be much easier if she was an unfriendly nightmare like the actor in the last big ad campaign he’d worked on.

  And why was she being so nice to everyone but him?

  But just as he thought that, she looked around and saw him. She smiled at him, that same smile that had made him drop his clipboard on that first day, and he smiled back. Of course he did. He walked straight over to her.

  “Morning. Ready for the last day?”

  What a stupid, boring, unoriginal thing to say to her.

  She smiled back at him anyway.

  “A little ready to go back to the sunny skies of L.A.—and to be back at my house, instead of a hotel room—but I’m sad it’s the last day. We’ve had fun together, haven’t we?”

  She gestured to the room like she was talking about the whole crew and had a completely straight face, so he had no idea if she meant that in a universal “this shoot was so fun” kind of way, or if she meant that about her and him, specifically.

  “Um. Yeah, we have,” he said.

  That time she grinned at him, and raised her eyebrows just a touch, and he grinned back. She took a step closer to him.

  “Well, why don’t we . . .”

  Gene interrupted.

  “Oh, Anna, great, you’re ready. Can we test the lighting on you for a second? We had to make some adjustments today. Hi, Ben.”

  Ben held back a sigh. He even managed to smile.

  “Hey, Gene.”

  What had Anna been about to say? “Well, why don’t we . . .” What? “Sneak off to the bathroom for sex?” “Go back to your place again tonight?” “Never see each other again after we leave the set today?” It could have been anything!

  But instead of grilling her about that, he stepped to the side, while she walked off with Gene, and poured himself a cup of coffee. Not that he needed it now—that tiny interaction with Anna had him wide awake.

  He stood out of everyone’s way as they tested the lighting and got everything ready for the final day. His role for the day was mostly a silent one—he and Gene had worked together so closely throughout all of this he knew he didn’t really have to be there, but there was no way he would have missed the last day.

  He scrolled through his phone as he stood there and watched, not really paying attention. Until he saw the email from Dawn.

  To: Ben Stephens

  From: Dawn Stephens

  Re: Just checking in

  Hey Ben! I’m going to be in SF next weekend for a friend’s baby shower, and I was wondering if you wanted to meet up? I’d love to finally get to meet you and chat in person instead of over email! Totally understand if you’re busy; just let me know if it works with your schedule.

  xo

  Dawn

  He and Dawn had emailed back and forth a few times since that email he’d sent her over the weekend. Nothing major, just stuff about their families and what their lives were like, though he still hadn’t told her about Theo, nor had he told Theo about her. He was going to tell Theo. He just hadn’t found the right time.

  He’d gotten used to emailing with her. Then why was it such a jolt for her to suggest meeting up?

  He slid his phone back into his pocket. He’d think about how to deal with Dawn later. Now he needed to concentrate on the end of the shoot.

  Actually, he should set up a date for tonight. Anna was leaving, the shoot would be over, he needed to get his life back. He hadn’t been on an actual date in weeks! Well, that would end today.

  Just as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to start swiping, a text popped up. From Anna.

  How about we celebrate the end of a successful shoot tonight? Want to meet me at the rooftop bar at my hotel?

  He looked across the room at her, waiting in between takes, and she met his eyes and smiled. How had she read his mind like that? A . . . celebration with Anna was exactly what he needed tonight.

  Sounds good. What time?

  Her reply didn’t come until after the next take.

  8? Text me when you get to the hotel and I’ll meet you up at the bar

  Okay, that gave him time to go home and change after they were done here. Depending on when they got out, he could maybe even get a haircut—he was overdue.

  See you then

  He let himself grin. No one had to know it was about Anna, after all. This was why he loved dating—the anticipation was fun as hell. Who cared what happened after tomorrow? He couldn’t fucking wait for tonight.

  * * *

  —

  Anna paced around her hotel suite. It was seven thirty and she was completely ready, thirty minutes before she had to meet Ben upstairs. She was usually ready early, but this was early even for her. She hadn’t been able to help herself, though. She’d been on edge for hours.

  Simon had only gotten more and more into this plan since he’d come up with it. Especially once he’d done some background searches on Ben. He’d texted her that morning.

  Former backup dancer? Volunteers with Big Brother? Oh Anna, you chose so well. I couldn’t be more proud. Photographer is all set, he’ll be there by 8:30.

  Oh, and I heard from Varon—she wants to meet with you in a few weeks, “just to chat” about the film. You’re so close, I think our plan just might put you over the edge.

  That last text had finally convinced her—even though, as far as Simon was concerned, the plan had been in place as soon as he’d left her hotel room the day before.

  She wanted that Varon film. After the last few years, she needed this win. She still had no idea what her part would be like in Vigilantes—despite all of the last-minute press she was doing for it, that movie might do absolutely nothing to raise her profile, or bring her closer to this role. The role she knew—she knew—would shoot her up into the stratosphere. She was tired of sitting back and waiting for good things to come to her; she wanted to take charge of her career again. She wanted the Varon film more than she’d wanted anything in years, and if this stunt was how to get it, then fine. She’d do it.

  She’d make sure the pictures from tonight were fantastic, the tabloids would love it, and that studio would see just how much publicity Anna Gardiner could get when she wanted to.

  Plus, it meant she’d get to keep hanging out with Ben, and that would be lots of fun. And he’d love this—why was she worrying about it so much? Only good things were in this for him! They would have a ton of fun for a month or so, and he’d made it clear he was the kind of guy who dated around a lot, so he’d be fine when it was over. Win-win.

  Finally, it was 7:50. Time to leave her suite and head up to the bar. She wanted to get there before Ben
, anyway, to make sure they had the best seat for her purposes. Granted, knowing Simon, he’d already called ahead to the bar and reserved the perfect location for her—and another for the photographer—but she wanted to be early, just in case. And Ben was always five minutes late, so even if the hotel elevators were slow, she’d still get to the bar well before him.

  But when she got off the elevator on the top floor, she saw a familiar back walking away from the elevator bank.

  “Ben?”

  He turned around and smiled at her. He had on jeans and a gray button-down shirt, and . . . had he gotten a haircut?

  “Hi.” He smiled at her and brushed his hand over his head. Yes, he’d gotten a haircut. “Um, you look great.”

  She flashed a smile at him as they walked together toward the bar.

  “Thanks.” She looked him up and down and winked at him. “So do you.”

  He laughed and his grin got bigger.

  “Always.”

  She felt very smug as they walked down the hallway together. They would look great together in these photos—she’d flirt like hell with him and make him grin at her like that; she’d make sure her best smile was on high wattage the entire time; the photographer would have many great options to choose from.

  The hallway was decorated with pictures of the California landscape, and he pointed out one ahead of them.

  “Aren’t those the windmills on the way out of Palm Springs? Oh hey, speaking of, how’s your dad? Are you going to get to see your parents before you go back to L.A.?”