While We Were Dating

by Jasmine Guillory

  She hadn’t realized he’d heard that part of their conversation. But still.

  “Also, I just feel so stupid—I should have been on higher alert today; I should have guessed that restaurant guy would call them when I showed up to see Penny. What perfect free advertisement for him. But—”

  “That’s why the photographer was there?” Ben asked. He started to stand up, then shook his head and sat back down. “You know what? I’m sure Penny will deal with him.”

  Anna thought about that for a second and then laughed.

  “I’m sure Penny will.” She looked around for her phone. “Actually, I should let her know I’m okay. I don’t know if she saw any of that, but if she did, she’ll be freaking out.”

  Ben went and grabbed her purse from where she’d dropped it by the front door.

  “You text Penny; I’ll get you some water.”

  Anna reached into her purse for her phone. Yes, Penny was freaking out. And yes, she was going to deal with the restaurant guy.

  Fuck. Anna, are you ok?

  I’m going to destroy this motherfucker

  No, first I’m going to make sure everyone at tonight’s dinner loves the wine

  Then I’m going to destroy this motherfucker. A food poisoning rumor should do it, I think

  Or maybe rats, that one would be fun too

  Tell me you’re ok

  No really, tell me you’re ok

  Anna, if you don’t fucking text me back

  She should have thought to text Penny as soon as they got home.

  I’m ok! I swear. I wasn’t. But Ben helped. And yes, we would both like you to destroy that motherfucker, please.

  Ben came back from the kitchen with two glasses of water and two bottles of sparkling water.

  “I thought you said you were never a waiter, but those are some waiter skills right there,” she said.

  He set everything down on the table.

  “Oh, I didn’t say I was never a waiter, just not here in L.A. I learned excellent skills that way. Did you check in with Penny?”

  Anna drank half the glass of water in one gulp. She should go get her meds from her bedroom—why she’d stopped carrying them around with her in the first place, she had no idea—but she couldn’t move right now. In a few minutes.

  “Yeah. She’s debating between a food-poisoning rumor or one about rats.”

  Oh thank god. Thank Ben for me, will you?

  Anna glanced down at her phone, then back up at him.

  “Also, she says thank you. And, um. So do I.”

  He took the glass of water from her and put it back on the coffee table.

  “You’re welcome. But I didn’t do anything. You got yourself through that. I just drove us home.”

  They both knew that wasn’t true, but Anna didn’t bother arguing.

  He picked up his own glass of water.

  “I know you hate changing plans, but I’d like to suggest we blow off the play tonight.”

  Oh God, the play. She’d completely forgotten about that.

  “Great idea. I can’t imagine anything I’d less like to do right now. Let me have Florence deal with that.”

  She fired off a text.

  “Okay. Great. We have all night. What do you want to do?”

  He turned to her and shrugged.

  “I’d be perfectly happy just sitting right here with you all night.”

  Anna laughed.

  “Ben, you’re a much better actor than I’ve given you credit for.”

  He looked confused, then annoyed.

  “What, you mean obviously I just want to have sex? Christ, Anna. That’s not the only thing I think about, you know. I was actually thinking about you.”

  Oh. She’d hurt his feelings.

  She reached for his hand.

  “Ben.”

  He looked at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just trying to . . . lighten the mood a little. I know you were thinking about me. I appreciate that, more than I can say.”

  The tension around his jaw relaxed.

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  She hooked her finger under his chin and kissed him. It was long, and slow, and gentle, and it almost made her cry all over again.

  He smoothed down the back of her hair.

  “I have an idea,” he said. “Why don’t we both change into those great robes you have upstairs, and then we can watch a terrible movie and you can tell me all the gossip you know about it. And after that, if you’re hungry, I can make us pancakes for dinner.”

  She took a long, deep breath.

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said.

  Nineteen

  In the car ON THE WAY to Anna’s house on Wednesday morning, one sentence ran through Ben’s head on a loop.

  You know that as soon as the premiere is over, she’s done with you.

  He wanted to discount it, because Simon had said it to him, and Simon was the worst. Except it was true. In all of their conversations about their “relationship,” the premiere had been the end point. Anna needed him to be her public boyfriend for some paparazzi shots, and to show up with her on the red carpet, and that was all. Afterward, Ben’s services were no longer needed.

  He’d thought that was fine, at the beginning. But now . . . now he didn’t know how to deal with this. It had been a long time since he’d had a connection with someone like he had with Anna, and he would miss it. He would miss her. And he would worry about her, and how she was doing.

  She’d seemed fine on Sunday, after everything that had happened on Saturday. They’d done the stupid grocery store visit Sunday morning—even though he’d tried to talk her out of it, she’d insisted. She’d looked up into his eyes and smiled when she knew the cameras were on them, like nothing had ever been wrong. She hadn’t seemed to want to talk about everything on Sunday, and he hadn’t pushed. He’d been impressed with how fearless she’d been as they walked out of the store on Sunday afternoon. He supposed this was her job, and it was important for her to just get back to it. But God, he hated that she had to pretend away so many things just to survive.

  But that wasn’t his business, he reminded himself. Because tonight was the premiere. And then afterward, this was done. They were done.

  That would be fine. He’d been in a weird mood for the past few days, but that was probably because he’d been traveling so much, and his whole regular schedule was off. He would be happy to go back to his normal life—to get to have dinner with his mom and Theo on Sunday, to see Dr. Lindsey every Wednesday, even though he’d been avoiding her for the past two weeks—to throw himself back into things like work, and dating, like he had before. He’d slept with the same woman and only the same woman for almost two whole months now. He needed some variety. Yes. Variety would be good.

  When he got to Anna’s house, Florence let him in.

  “Hi, Florence,” he said. “Where’s Anna?”

  “She’s swimming. You got the agenda, right?”

  Florence had sent him an agenda for today. Yes, he’d gotten it. Had he read it? Well, that was a different story.

  “I got it, yeah,” he said. “Are we . . . supposed to be somewhere soon?”

  Luckily Florence seemed like she frequently dealt with people who didn’t read their agendas.

  “Not for two hours.” That was soon, from his perspective, but okay. “The limo will pick you up here and take you to the hotel—your premiere clothes are already there, and the glam squad will meet you there. I’ll be there, too, a little later, to take some candids for social, and then you’ll go from the hotel to the theater.”

  What she didn’t say, but that he already knew, was that his job was to show up, wear what they told him to wear, and not act like an asshole. He could manage that.

  “Great. That sounds great. Thank you for mak
ing this so easy for us,” he said.

  Florence picked up her bag and opened the front door.

  “That’s my job,” she said. “But working with people like Anna—and you—makes everything easier for me, too.” She stepped outside. “Okay, I’m taking off. See you over there. Text me if anything comes up.”

  Ben set his bag down and walked into the backyard to find Anna. She sliced through the water quickly and cleanly, a black swim cap on her head. She didn’t see him yet, so he sat down to watch her. She’d told him that she loved to swim, and that she got this house partly because the high walls around the pool made it so she could swim anytime, without worrying someone could see her. Last week, they’d gotten in together late at night and spent hours floating there. But he’d never seen her swimming in it like this before, like she could go back and forth forever.

  After a while, she surfaced at the shallow end and saw him.

  “Ben! When did you get here?”

  The smile on her face was so warm, so genuine.

  “Not too long ago. Florence let me in, but I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  She pulled herself out of the pool, and his eyes widened.

  “You . . . do you always . . .”

  She pulled off her swim cap and shook her hair. The water streamed over her breasts and ran down her legs.

  “No, I don’t always swim topless.” She grinned. He knew she knew what this was doing to him. “But I do when I have something big coming up and I’m swimming during the day—swimsuits give me such distinct tan lines, no matter how much sunscreen I put on. There’s body makeup that can deal with all of that, but it’s a pain in the ass. I’d rather just make sure I don’t have tan lines in the first place.”

  She walked over to him, and he pulled her down onto his lap. She swung her legs sideways and kissed him.

  “You like that, I see.”

  He ran his lips down over her warm brown skin.

  “I like it a lot.”

  They made it to the hotel in the nick of time, though they kept the limo waiting for a while at Anna’s house. As soon as they walked into the suite, it was like he didn’t exist—one person immediately started blow-drying Anna’s hair, another reached for her nails, and a third patted cream on her face.

  She winked at him from across the room. At least there was plenty of space in this suite. He had an hour to sit on the couch and work—he was “working from home” today, but since all this was going to end soon, he’d better actually get work done. He had to prove he was more than just a famous person’s boyfriend.

  You know that as soon as the premiere is over, she’s done with you.

  He shook that off. At least Simon wasn’t there today.

  “Ben,” Florence called from across the suite. “They’re ready for you.”

  He closed his laptop and walked over, ready to put his tux on, until someone beckoned him into the corner.

  “Makeup time.”

  Right. He’d forgotten that someone would probably want to put makeup on him.

  Anna grinned at him from her own chair, where two people were twirling her hair around scary implements.

  “It’s just a little lip balm and moisturizer,” she said. “Did Florence warn you about that?”

  He shrugged.

  “Probably? She’s very detailed, but”—he lowered his voice—“I only skimmed her instructions.”

  Anna laughed. She looked happy and excited about tonight, which relieved him. She was a great actress, yes, but by this point, he could sense her emotions, even if she was trying to hide them. That she didn’t seem anxious about tonight meant he could relax, too.

  Though . . . if he saw that photographer from last weekend, it would be hard not to trip him.

  Finally, their hours of grooming ended just as Devora walked into the room.

  “Anna! Ben! Tonight is going to be amazing.”

  She unzipped one of the enormous garment bags on the clothing rack and handed Ben his tux.

  “Here you go—let me know if you need anything.”

  He appreciated how everyone who worked for Anna was very helpful and polite to him while at the same time making it clear that Anna was their only priority. He was sure none of them would ever just hand Anna a dress and tell her to let them know if she needed anything.

  He ducked into the bedroom and pulled on the perfectly fitted and pressed tux and shirt. At least there was air-conditioning in this room so he wouldn’t swelter on this summer day in long sleeves, but he had a feeling he was going to be hot as hell on the red carpet. Maybe someone had a solution for that. He walked out of the bedroom barefoot, jacket over his arm.

  “Devora, I just realized . . .” He stopped cold.

  Anna turned at his voice. Despite everyone with them in the room, he knew her smile was just for him.

  She was in the red dress. He’d been sure she would wear the dress Simon had liked. He hadn’t even asked her about it; he didn’t want to make her feel bad when she had to tell him. But she was wearing the dress he’d told her he loved.

  “The dress,” was all he could say. “It’s . . . you look so beautiful.”

  Beautiful wasn’t even the right word. He didn’t think he could be surprised anymore by Anna, or his reaction to her, but in that dress, with that thrilled, happy, proud look on her face, she shone so brightly it was almost hard to look at her. She beamed as she looked back at him.

  “Thank you,” she said. “You look pretty great yourself.”

  Devora looked up from adjusting Anna’s dress.

  “Was there something you needed?”

  Was there something he needed? He looked at her blankly before he realized.

  “Shoes! I need shoes.”

  Devora looked at Anna, and they both smiled. Devora took a box off the top of the clothing rack and handed it to Anna, who walked over to Ben and gave it to him.

  “I hope you like them,” she said.

  Why did they both look like that about some shoes to wear with his tux? Whatever they were, he’d act excited about them.

  He opened the box, pushed the tissue aside, and froze.

  “How did you do this? How did you know?”

  He’d coveted these sneakers for months. They wouldn’t even be out for weeks.

  Anna had a huge grin on her face.

  “I checked in with Maddie. And then Devora pulled a few strings.”

  He shook his head. He couldn’t believe this.

  “Wow. I’m . . . Wow.”

  She laughed and kissed him on the cheek before she went back to Devora.

  He sat down to put the sneakers on. And he went back to watching Anna. They’d done something complicated to her hair that made it all flow in waves over one shoulder, and she had very long, very expensive-looking earrings on. Ben couldn’t believe he was here, tonight, with her. He couldn’t believe any of this had happened. He’d always been pretty sure of himself—with life, with work, with women, all of that. But Anna suddenly felt otherworldly.

  Devora and the makeup artist and the hair person all finished their last circles around Anna. She slid her phone into her tiny purse.

  “Are you ready for this?” she asked Ben.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said.

  They walked through the hotel, and he realized that Anna’s shoes made her much taller than she usually was, even when she was wearing heels.

  “I’m sure people always say this to you,” he said as they followed Florence to the freight elevator, “but I’m impressed that you can walk so easily in those things.”

  She relaxed against him as they rode down the elevator.

  “Many years of practice,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll pay dearly for it later in life, and I already have to do all sorts of exercises to strengthen my ankles, but these fabulou
s shoes are worth it. I’m glad I get to keep them.”

  He touched her earlobe, and the strings of diamonds swung back and forth.

  “Do you get to keep these?” he asked.

  Her eyes sparkled at him.

  “Wouldn’t that be incredible, but no.”

  They got in the limo in the garage; there were a bunch of other limos there, he assumed waiting for other people also going to the premiere. Anna waved at someone getting into the one next to theirs.

  Once they were in the car alone, Ben turned to Anna.

  “I can’t believe we haven’t gone over this, but is there anything I should know for tonight? Not, like, the logistics, but the people—is there anyone you can’t stand who you want me to spill a drink on? Anyone who is actually your friend and I don’t have to be suspicious of?”

  Anna giggled. He’d said all of that partly to relax her, if she needed it. After all, this was the movie that she’d been filming when her anxiety had gotten so bad, so he’d worried that tonight would be hard for her. But she seemed fine.

  “This is the rare movie where when I say all of that bullshit in interviews about how we all got along great, it’s actually true. But maybe that’s because we all filmed so separately that I really only worked closely with a handful of people. And plus, I only filmed, like, seven or so scenes, so I barely know anything that happens in this thing. I still don’t even know if I live or die. The plot tonight will be as much of a surprise to me as it will be to you.”

  She touched his hand.

  “Oh, speaking of logistics—on the red carpet tonight, you and I will take a few pictures together, and then someone with a headset on will pull you aside, and you’ll step back and I’ll do the whole song and dance for the photographers. Just wait for me, and then we can go inside.”

  He thought about that.

  “What if I want to do my own song and dance for the photographers? I look pretty good in this tux, you know.”