While We Were Dating

by Jasmine Guillory

  They left the bar thirty minutes later, after Ben pulled all the cash he had out of his wallet and threw it on the table. Anna shook her head at him as they walked back to the elevator for the second time that night.

  “You didn’t have to do that—everything is charged to the room.”

  Ben shook his head.

  “I did indeed have to do that—there was a photographer there! No one will ever be able to imply I was a bad tipper.”

  He took her hand on the way to the elevator. Holding hands with Anna felt exciting, illicit. He’d never before been able to touch Anna in public, and now he could, and it was all because of a big joke they were playing on the rest of the world. This was going to be so much fun.

  They didn’t talk on the elevator back to her room. They barely looked at each other. But he could feel the electricity running through and around and between them. It was so tangible, he could almost feel his hair crackle.

  They got off the elevator and walked down the hall to her room, still hand in hand. She walked differently when she was public Anna—he noticed that after they got back from Palm Springs. She stood taller, her shoulders more proud, her head high. At other times, she was more relaxed, softer, warmer. He found both sides of her impossibly sexy.

  She opened the door to her suite, and as soon as they got inside, she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him toward her. He felt a button snap off of his shirt. He fucking loved it.

  He backed her up against the wall and kissed her hard. She reached for his remaining buttons.

  “You turned me on so fucking much up there,” she said as soon as he moved his mouth from her lips to her neck.

  “I know,” he said. He pushed the V of her dress to the side and brushed the tip of her nipple with his thumb. He could feel her tremble.

  “I liked it,” she said.

  He pulled her bra out of the way and touched his tongue to her nipple.

  “I know,” he said.

  She grabbed his hand and guided it to the inside of her thigh.

  “You made me so wet,” she said.

  He dropped to his knees and grabbed her underwear with both hands. With one twist, the thin lace fell off of her body. He didn’t apologize.

  “I couldn’t wait,” he said. And then he slid his tongue inside her. He licked and sucked and bit and hummed until she writhed above him. And then he slid a finger inside her and sucked harder until she gasped and collapsed to the floor, bringing him along with her.

  They lay there panting together for a while, until she turned and grinned at him.

  “Are you always this good at fulfilling your promises?” she asked.

  He traced his finger from the hollow of her breasts to her collarbone to her cheek.

  “Always,” he said.

  * * *

  —

  Eventually, they made it to the bed. Anna pulled off his clothes on the way, and then laughed when he picked her up and tossed her on the huge bed. He crawled on top of her and stared down at her body. She loved the way he looked at her, like he couldn’t get enough, like he was planning how to touch her next, like he was thrilled to be around her.

  Luckily, that was also how she felt when she looked at him.

  She pulled him down and kissed him. They kissed slowly, their hands roaming, exploring, their bodies intertwined. They had plenty of space, plenty of time to do whatever they wanted. And all they wanted was each other.

  Hours later, Ben got up and wheeled the room service cart into the bedroom, and they finally ate the food she’d ordered in a panic hours before. She ordered more wings, and another bottle of champagne and they feasted, naked in bed, laughing the whole time.

  Finally, they fell asleep together, sated in all of the best ways.

  When she woke up the next morning, Ben was already awake, already smiling at her.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  She kissed him softly. Had last night really happened? It must have, because he was here. She’d worried last night that she’d regret telling him everything, but this morning, here in bed with Ben, she couldn’t regret a thing.

  She put a finger on his biceps and traced the outlines of his tattoo.

  “Whose initials are these?” she asked.

  He laughed.

  “My mom’s. I got it in my early twenties—she was so mad at me. It took her, like, a year to forgive me. But apparently now she brags about it to my aunts, which I only found out because my cousin told me. So you never know about parents, do you?”

  She lay back on her pillows and smiled.

  “You really never know. When I was a kid, I never felt like I could talk to my dad about anything—he was so strict, he only grudgingly allowed me to be in school plays and stuff because my mom didn’t give him the opportunity to say no, and now he’s my biggest fan.” She opened her eyes all the way. “Speaking of, what time is it? I have to pack and get out of here and be at my parents’ house for lunch—I’m flying back to L.A. tonight, but I’m going to have lunch with them and my brother first.”

  Ben looked over at the bedside clock.

  “It’s only eight, you have plenty of time.” He turned back to her. “But before you start getting ready—what happens next? With the pictures from last night, and this whole thing?”

  She was glad he’d asked that.

  “The pictures will probably come out sometime over the next few days—maybe as early as tomorrow. Oh, that reminds me: today—right now, if you can—you need to lock down your social media as tightly as possible. They’ll find you, trust me. Make everything private, make any profile pictures of like, a tree or something, not you.”

  Ben nodded.

  “Okay, I’ll do that right away. And as soon as I get home, I’ll call my boss.”

  Thank goodness he’d be able to warn his boss.

  “Right, perfect. My people will handle all of the press—I’ll send you everyone’s number so you have it, and they’ll all have your contact info. If you get any calls, or anyone recognizes you and stops you to ask about me, be friendly, say something meaningless—we’ll get you some easy talking points—and don’t answer any questions.”

  He nodded.

  “I can do that.”

  “You’ll come down to L.A. next weekend,” Anna continued. “I’ll get my assistant to book your tickets.” He opened his mouth, but she put a finger on his lips. “Please don’t fight me on that—I really don’t want you to put yourself out for this whole thing.”

  He bit his lip. Damn, it was sexy when he did that. Especially when he wasn’t even trying to be sexy.

  “Okay, but can this be an ongoing conversation? I didn’t agree to do this for you to spend money on me.”

  She knew that. It was probably a lot of the reason they were even doing this in the first place.

  “You can pick up the bill wherever we go out to dinner next weekend—does that work?” She didn’t wait for his response. “I haven’t figured out the details for next weekend yet—I’ll keep you updated about that. And I’ll tell you if you need to pack anything special.”

  He laughed.

  “Please do. I’ll have to get Maddie working on my wardrobe.”

  Good idea. Ben dressed fine, but he might need some help to be camera-ready.

  “So, that brings up something else,” he said, his smile fading. “Can I tell my brother—and Maddie—the truth about all of this? Or . . .”

  She could tell he wasn’t going to like this answer.

  “I’d rather you didn’t. It’s not that I don’t trust your brother and Maddie—I mean obviously I trusted them the other day—but if people are going to ask them questions about you, and about us, it’s probably better that their answers are genuine.”

  He didn’t look happy but didn’t argue with her.

  She slid he
r hand up his face and cupped his cheek.

  “Thanks. For doing all of this for me. I know it probably seems ridiculous, but I really need a win here, and this might get me there.”

  He kissed her.

  “My pleasure.” He moved his hand from her hip to her waist and then up, until his thumb brushed back and forth over her nipple. “I mean that quite literally.”

  She reached for him.

  “I know you do.”

  Fourteen

  Anna woke up in her own bed the next morning, blissfully sore from her very athletic activities with Ben the day before. She had a million things to do now that she was back home in L.A.—unpack, update Simon about the Ben thing, check in with her stylist about what to wear to all of her upcoming events, therapy, and, ugh, an appointment with her trainer later that day. But even that last thing couldn’t dampen her enthusiasm for all of this, because the reason for everything on her to-do list, the reason she’d made this whole plan in the first place, was the Varon film. It felt so close that she could taste it.

  But first, she needed coffee.

  She went downstairs to the kitchen, took the fresh container of oat milk out of her fridge, and poured hot coffee into her mug. God bless her assistant—she’d known without even having to check that Florence would program her coffee maker to brew at eight a.m.

  She sank down on the couch to drink her coffee and scrolled through her text messages. She grinned when she got to Ben’s:

  I’m sore today in more locations than I can count, thanks to you

  She grinned and texted him back.

  Thanks to me??? Who started it?

  The answer to that was debatable, she realized. Not that she’d let Ben know that.

  As she kept scrolling her phone rang.

  “You call yourself a best friend?” Penny said when she picked up the phone. “I cannot believe that you told the press about your new boyfriend before you told me.”

  That meant that (1) the pictures must be out, and (2) she’d forgotten to let Penny in on all of this, what with . . . everything that happened after she and Ben got back from the bar.

  “Right, sorry. About that.”

  “See? See! I knew there would be an ‘about that.’ There’s always an ‘about that’ with you!”

  Anna took a gulp of coffee to sustain herself through Penny’s rants.

  “I know, I know. But this time . . . So the Ben thing isn’t . . . quite . . . what the tabloids are probably saying. See, what Simon and I decided . . .”

  Penny groaned. She wasn’t a huge fan of Simon, even though she acknowledged he was good for Anna’s career.

  “This had better be good.”

  Anna got up to get more coffee.

  “It’s not just good. It’s great. See, I have a plan.”

  “You? A plan? No, seriously?” Penny said. “Well, I never.”

  Anna couldn’t help but laugh.

  “No, but really, listen.”

  When Anna finished explaining the whys and wherefores of the plan, there was a long silence.

  “Why this role? Why are you doing all of this—a fake boyfriend, dancing around for the tabloids—who you hate—all of that—for this movie? You get movies and TV shows thrown at you all the time, you could shout from your house that you wanted a new starring role and scripts would come flying down your chimney. Why do you care so much about this one?”

  Anna stopped to think about how to explain that.

  “I don’t want just any role anymore. I want . . . I want to show the world what I can do. And I guess I want to show myself that, too. I want roles that can make me better. And damn it, I want to get back to the Oscars, and I want to win this time. And this movie, this role, with this director . . . I think it can do everything I want.”

  Penny was silent for a while again.

  “Then, if that’s what you want, let’s make sure you get it,” she finally said. “Also, I forgive you for not calling me, but that is if and only if I get to meet this Ben.”

  Anna laughed.

  “P, we aren’t really dating, I just told you.”

  “Oh, I know,” Penny said. “But I saw the way he looked at you in those pictures, and the way you looked back at him, and I need to see if this guy is as hot in person as he was in the photos.”

  Anna thought about what Ben had been saying to her in the bar when those pictures were taken and felt her cheeks get warm.

  “Hotter,” she said.

  She and Penny giggled like teenagers.

  * * *

  —

  Ben walked into his therapist’s office on Wednesday evening and dropped down into a chair.

  “Dr. Lindsey, hello!”

  He’d been so busy at work today that he hadn’t figured out what he was going to talk about in therapy. He hadn’t told Dr. Lindsey anything about Anna, and he didn’t intend to. Once he started, he’d have to explain the whole damn thing, and she would absolutely say something to him in her very dry way about it, something that sounded like a normal bland comment, and then he’d wake up in the middle of the night and realize what she actually meant.

  And he hadn’t told her about Dawn, either. He kept meaning to, every session. But it felt like it would be a long and difficult conversation, with lots of “What do you think you should do?” and “How did you feel about that?” and “Did this bring up any feelings about your father?” and he didn’t want to think about any of that, much less talk about it.

  No, he’d talk about work—how Roger had congratulated him for his work on the phone ad campaign, that he finally might get to work on a campaign for his favorite sneaker brand; maybe he could throw her a bone and mention that Theo and Maddie might get engaged soon, so she could do her whole “How does that make you feel?” thing about that, et cetera.

  “Ben.” She nodded at him, a faint smile on her face. He always tried to make her laugh, but it was almost impossible. He’d only accomplished it three times in the three and a half years he’d been seeing her, but those three times were like gold.

  “How are you doing this week?” she asked him.

  He nodded quickly.

  “Oh, good, good. It’s been a good week—really busy, but good.” He’d said “good” three . . . no, four times. He should just keep talking so she didn’t notice. “Work, especially—last week we wrapped up the shoot of that big ad campaign I led, and everyone was really pleased at how it turned out. The proof will be when the commercials and ads all come out, of course, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed for that.”

  She nodded in her slow way. He could never tell if it was a positive nod or a negative one.

  “Tell me about it.”

  So he did. At length.

  “. . . and you should have seen him—this six-foot-three, 250-pound guy jump up on a table and scream because he saw a mouse; we were all dying laughing!” He hoped he’d get a laugh from that story, but it was just that faint smile again.

  “Ben, quick question for you—you’ve spent twenty minutes telling me about the shoot and everyone involved. Is there a reason you haven’t told me that you’re in a relationship with Anna Gardiner? Who, as you told me awhile ago, was the talent for this campaign, though you haven’t mentioned that today?”

  Oh. Oh shit. How did Dr. Lindsey know about that?

  “The pictures are everywhere, you know,” she said in answer to his unspoken question. “I do have the internet.”

  Of course she did. But he’d never thought of Dr. Lindsey doing things like actually using it.

  “Right. Um, it’s just because . . . I guess I was working up to it.”

  She nodded. This nod seemed imbued with disappointment.

  “I see. I wasn’t rushing you. Feel free to tell me on your own time. I was just curious.”

  He rushed to fill the silence.r />
  “The thing is . . . about Anna. I mean, about me and Anna. It’s not exactly true.”

  Shit. Why had he told her that? He hadn’t meant to tell her that. He hadn’t meant to tell her about any of this!

  She raised an eyebrow at him.

  “What do you mean, ‘not exactly true’?”

  Shit. Now he had to tell her the rest of it. Well, some of it.

  “It’s just that we—I mean she—I mean it’s sort of a publicity thing for her. She needed a date to a thing coming up, and I guess her manager thought she needed a boyfriend for some good press, and since we had already, I mean since we became friendly while she was working the ad campaign, we thought, he thought, and she agreed, and I thought it sounded like fun, so anyway . . .” He made himself stop talking. Maybe they could just gossip about what an adventure this would be for a little while and then his session would be over.

  “You said ‘since we already . . . ’—since you already what?”

  Why did she always manage to pick up on the smallest things?

  He let out a sigh and gave up.

  “Since we’d already slept together. A few times. It started almost two weeks ago, when I drove her to Palm Springs.”

  And then the whole story spilled out. He didn’t tell her the part about Anna’s anxiety attacks, but he told her everything else.

  “You and your brother carried her in a suitcase?” She laughed out loud. Laugh number four! And he hadn’t even tried this time! “I can’t believe she agreed to that.”

  Ben grinned.

  “She loved it. We all laughed so hard about it. And it was right after that when I accidentally met her manager.”

  Dr. Lindsey looked at him for a moment.

  “So Anna met your brother. Did you tell him the truth about all of this?”

  Of course she’d asked him that. The one thing about all of this that he felt bad about.

  “No. Anna didn’t want . . . she asked me not to. Just so if the press asked him anything, his responses would sound real.”

  Theo had called him when the photos had come out—Maddie had seen them right away, of course. They’d both been so happy for him. He’d hated lying to them.