When Ben got to work, he immediately got pulled into a meeting about the pitch for the sneaker company, which he had a million ideas for. When he finally got to his desk and scrolled through his email, one popped out at him. Another from Dawn.
From: Dawn Stephens
To: Ben Stephens
Re: So cool!
OMG, just saw you in People! No wonder you weren’t in town last weekend when I was in the Bay! That’s wild that you’re dating Anna Gardiner—is she nice? That’s a silly question, I’m sure she’s nice if she’s dating you, lol. Anyway, I hope she’s treating my brother well and that you had fun with her in LA last weekend!
xo
Dawn
Hope she’s treating my brother well.
He’d—sort of—gotten used to thinking of Dawn as his sister. Theoretically. But he had a visceral rejection to the idea that he was her brother. He was Theo’s brother. That’s all. Forever, it had been him and Theo, together against the world. He’d let Maddie into the fold, because he’d known from first glance that she was good for Theo and that she loved him—he’d known that well before she seemed to know it—but also it was different; she was his girlfriend. It felt like this woman, this Dawn, was trying to steal something from his relationship with Theo.
Fuck that.
He clicked away from the email without replying.
Seventeen
Anna sat next to Ben at the Lakers game, her hand in his. She continued to be impressed with how well he was managing all of this—they’d been holding hands or whispering to each other, or chatting with the other celebrities sitting around them throughout the game, but even though half the things he whispered in her ear during the game were wildly filthy, he was totally PG in all of his outward behavior. He didn’t even put his hand on her knee, just on her shoulder as they sat there, or the small of her back on the way into the arena. And he’d once or twice brushed her hair away from her face when they’d been facing each other, in a way she knew the cameras would love.
“You’re very good at this, you know,” she said the next time he did that.
He gave her a sweet smile.
“Next time you say that to me, I want you to be naked,” he said. She choked back her laughter as his eyes twinkled at her.
“I’m going to kill you for that one when we get home, you know,” she said. “Well. First I’ll suck your cock in the limo on the way home. And then I’ll kill you.”
He took her hand again.
“I know you’re going to want some reciprocity first, sweetheart,” he said. Suddenly she had a vision of him the night before, sliding his fingers under her skirt as soon as he leaned over to kiss her in the limo when she’d picked him up from the airport. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs. The asshole was right—he was good at so many things.
But it wasn’t just the performance of their relationship that he was doing well with tonight. They were sitting next to a notoriously aloof actress, someone Anna had met a number of times and had thought disliked her because of how unfriendly she’d always been. But because of the cameras, Anna had been forced to introduce her and her preteen son to Ben at the beginning of the game. Ben had managed to draw her out so well that by the second quarter, she was chatting away to Anna about what she was wearing to her next premiere and how nervous she always was at awards shows.
She even hugged Anna when the game was over and her kid high-fived Ben, who had clearly been a big hit with him.
Ben pulled out his phone when they got into the limo to go home and chuckled.
“I texted my brother some of the pictures I took courtside and he’s dying. He might actually kill me the next time I see him. He’s going to get me back for this so bad.”
The warm, excited smile on Ben’s face made Anna smile, too. She was glad the game had made him happy. She’d been on edge all week, jumping every time her phone buzzed, for no real reason she could identify. Probably just everything—the upcoming premiere, the endless waiting for news about the film role, the frequent stories about her and Ben, her dad’s routine doctor’s appointment this week. Tonight had relaxed her, though. A little.
She leaned over to glance at Ben’s pictures. He’d taken a ton from the halftime event with the little kids trying to land free throws—none of them had made it, but former players had come out and helped them dunk in the end, and then announced big charity donations to wild applause.
“That was pretty cute,” she said.
He relaxed against her.
“It really was.” He looked over at her. “Do you do stuff like that? Not on the court, I mean, but the charity stuff? I’ve always thought that must be a fun part of being someone like you.”
She shrugged.
“Sort of. I mean, not like that, but I give money, whenever someone asks me to. My brother has lots of pet charities up in the Bay Area, so that makes it easy.”
She could feel his eyes on her, even though she wasn’t looking at him.
“But you don’t? I thought you’d want to be more involved personally. Maybe with a mental health charity, something in the Black community; the way you talked about it, it seemed like—”
“I get enough harassment from my dad about this, I don’t need it from you, too,” she said.
He held up his hands.
“Sorry for asking. I didn’t realize this was a sensitive subject.”
She shook her head.
“It’s not sensitive. I’m just not in the mood to talk about that, that’s all.” She changed the subject. “Did you watch a lot of basketball with your dad and brother growing up?” she asked.
His face closed up and he looked away from her.
“Theo and I did.”
“Not with your dad?” she asked. Ben never talked about his dad. There was clearly some mystery there. She suddenly wanted to know.
“No. Just me and Theo.” He dropped his phone into his pocket. “I thought what’s her name was nice. That woman sitting next to you. And you said when we sat down that she didn’t like you.”
Anna opened a bottle of water.
“I thought she didn’t. Guess I was wrong about that. Do you not get along with your dad?” She knew she was pushing on this. She could tell Ben was trying to change the subject, but somehow, she really wanted to know.
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him since I was a kid.” Ben turned away to look out the window at the freeway traffic.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t . . .”
He turned back to her and shook his head.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He slid an arm around her. “Why are we wasting all of this time in this limo? Aren’t there other things we should be doing?”
He pulled her to him and kissed her. She kissed him back, and it was as good as it always was, but something kept nagging at her. When he slid his hand up underneath her shirt, she suddenly realized what it was. She pulled away.
“Have you ever noticed that when you get upset about something or there’s something you don’t want to talk about, you try to distract me with sex? It works, don’t get me wrong. But you could just tell me you’re upset, or that I shouldn’t have pushed at you, or whatever. You don’t have to pretend everything is fine and just fuck me.”
Well, that had come out harsher than she’d meant it to. Ben pulled away from her.
“I apologize if you didn’t want me to kiss you,” he said. “Just FYI, when I kiss you, when I touch you, when I fuck you, it’s because I want to, and for no other reason. I was under the impression you wanted it, too.”
She dropped her hands from his chest. Why did men always do this shit?
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You can just tell me to stop asking you about your dad, or tell me that you’re annoyed I kept pressing you on that when it was clear you didn’t want to talk about it—
I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done it. It’s just that I feel like you know a lot about me by this point—I’ve told you a lot of personal stuff and you’ve been great about all of it, don’t get me wrong. But I feel like I don’t know you all that well except that you’re funny and kind and go out of your way for people and you’re great in bed, and those are all good things. But—I don’t know, maybe I wanted to know more. You’ve told me you’re in therapy, great, why do you go? You don’t have to tell me that, I guess, that’s probably too personal to ask, but it feels ridiculous that there’s a ‘too personal’ between us with all of this. I guess one thing I know about you is that you avoid conflict and pretend it away or fill it with sex, which . . .”
She stopped and thought about that. About other times he’d done that. He’d been looking down, not at her, but now he looked up.
“You were mad at me,” she said. “Weren’t you? That night I told you about my plan for all of this. You were mad that I was going to trick you into this.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Answer me!” she finally yelled.
“Yes! Fine!” he yelled back. “Yes, I was pissed about that, okay? It felt pretty shitty, that you had a whole plan to lie to me and manipulate me, like I was just some cog in the Anna Gardiner wheel. Are you happy now? I’m not mad anymore, I got over it. What was even the point of being mad at you about it? It wasn’t going to get me anywhere or do anything good. If I remember correctly, and I think I do, you did your fair share of trying to distract me with sex that night.”
That was why he’d started all of that wildly hot dirty talk in the bar that night. And maybe it was why they’d had sex all night after getting back from the bar and hadn’t stopped to talk about anything else.
She put her hand on his and waited until he looked her in the eye.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right. You were right to be mad. That was fucked up. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. I’m sorry that I almost went through with a plan that treated you and your feelings like they didn’t matter.”
His eyes fell. He didn’t turn away from her, but he looked down for a while. She let the silence between them grow.
“I’m not . . . great about conflict,” he finally said. “It’s something I’m . . . supposed to be working on. You know. In therapy. But it’s hard. And I don’t like it. And it always feels easier to smile or joke or fuck it away, I guess.”
She put her hand on his face and then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He put his arm around her and pulled her close to him.
“It’s a lot easier,” she said. “But sometimes it’s also a lot more rewarding to share your feelings and your hurt with someone else. That’s, um, something I’ve had to work on, too.”
He brushed her hair back from her forehead and kissed her softly there, but he didn’t say anything else. Okay, she would let this go. He was obviously done with this conversation now—not that he’d even wanted to have it in the first place.
She felt like a jerk for pushing him about his dad, and then pushing him on this, and making him have this conversation he clearly hadn’t wanted to have. Why had she even done it? Because she’d been anxious and wanted to pick at a scab? Because they’d been pretending to be in a relationship to the outside world, so she felt like she had to start a fight to make it feel real? Because she really wanted to know more about him and was frustrated that he held her at arm’s length—emotionally, at least—that he only shared so much, then no more, and she thought if she hammered away at him, he might crack?
Probably all of the above.
“Thanks for the apology,” he said, as they pulled into her driveway. “For that night. For what you almost did.” He smiled down at her, meeting her eyes for the first time in a while. “And you didn’t do it.”
The driver opened her door, and Anna nodded her thanks as she got out.
No, she hadn’t done it. She was more and more grateful for that every day.
* * *
—
Ben followed Anna into her house. He’d been worried, when he first came here, that it would be some big, fancy, expensive glass house, where he’d be afraid of breaking things and wouldn’t want to sit on the furniture. And it did look imposing from the outside, with big hedges and a gate and a long driveway to keep people out. But the inside just felt like Anna—expensive, yes, but also relaxed, fun, joyful. It was colorful and spacious and felt like a home, and he was already sad he’d only get to visit a few times more.
“Do you want a drink?” Anna asked him when he followed her to the kitchen. “I could use one.”
He nodded and watched her drop ice cubes into two glasses and then pour bourbon on top. She handed him a glass, and their fingers touched. It still felt so electric between them. He wanted to ask her if it was this way for her with other people. It probably was—she was just like this.
It wasn’t this way for him with other people. Yeah, sure, he’d had great sex before, lots of times. But he’d never felt this way, this hunger to be with someone, around them, in their bed and out of it, touching them and talking to them. And the more they were together, the better the sex was. The better everything was.
He wanted to kiss her, to touch her, but after what she’d said in the car—and what he’d said—he felt hesitant. He didn’t want her to think he was just doing it to brush off their fight.
Despite the fight, though, he was glad he’d told her he’d been mad she was going to trick him into this. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to get that off his chest.
She took a sip of her bourbon and licked the tiny drop off her bottom lip. He looked away. Damn it, this woman was fucking him up. He was glad when she walked toward the living room.
“Coming?” she said over her shoulder.
He followed her. Of course he did.
When they sat down on the couch, he sat a respectful distance from her, but somehow, once they’d turned the TV on and found their way to the sixth episode of the show they’d started watching together, first in San Francisco at his apartment, then here last week, he was right next to her. Or she was right next to him? He didn’t know exactly how it happened.
After they’d watched one episode, he looked down at her.
“Do you want . . .”
“In the car . . .” she said at the same time, and then they both laughed.
“You first,” he said.
She smiled.
“Thanks. I was just going to say . . . I’m sorry about starting all of that. In the car, I mean. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’ve just been on edge all week, about this role, and if I’m going to get it, and the damn movie premiere, and what my role in Vigilantes will end up being like, and . . . everything.”
He looked down at her. He started to put his arm around her, but stopped himself.
“Are you afraid that the premiere and everything around it will bring up bad memories of last year?”
She nodded.
“A little, I guess. And with that coming and all of the uncertainty around the Varon film, it’s just . . . a lot right now.” She sighed and leaned her head back on the couch. “She called me this week. Varon did. We chatted about the part. We’re going to have lunch next week.”
He sat up straight and looked at her. Why didn’t she sound more excited?
“But that’s great news, isn’t it?”
She shrugged.
“I don’t know. She told me that the studio is still on the fence, and that she doesn’t have free rein here, so I don’t really know what it means. But we’re having lunch on Thursday. Which of course means I’m going to be a stress case all week.”
She leaned her head against his chest. He put his arm around her then—how could he not?
“Anyway. I’m sorry I took that out on you. And I really am sorry. About everything else.”
She pulled him down to her and kissed him. God, it felt so good to feel her lips on his, her body against him, her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her waist, her hips.
They pulled apart, and she reached for his shirt.
“I thought—” he started, and stopped.
She sat back but kept her hands on him.
“You thought what?” she asked.
Damn it. Now, after what she’d said in the car, he had to say it.
“I thought, after what you said, that you didn’t . . . I didn’t want to . . .”
She smiled slowly and cupped his cheek with her hand.
“Is that why you were being so standoffish when we got home? Ben, I wasn’t saying that I want any of this part to change. I just want us—both of us—to be able to be honest with each other. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said. “I promise.”
He leaned down to kiss her, and she kissed him back, hard. He pressed her down onto the couch, and she slid her hands up his chest. He pulled her very snug T-shirt up and let his hands roam all over her body. He traced the lacy borders of her bra with his thumbs.
“My God, when you touch me like that . . .” she said.
“I know,” he said. “Me, too.”
Later, in bed, in the dark, she kissed him on the cheek before she snuggled into his chest.
“The game was fun,” he said. “Courtside! I’m never going to get over that.”
She tilted her head back and smiled up at him.
“I’m glad. You’ve done so much for me, I wanted you to be able to have a little fun with this.”
He brushed her hair back from her face so he could see her eyes.
“Wait. Did you plan that for me?”
She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her.
While We Were Dating Page 23
