by Q. T. Ruby
“At this rate, you may never see me again.”
He laughs. “I’ll call you when I get in.” He kisses me good and long then pulls back, leaving me breathless and unsteady on my feet. “I hate our good-byes, but knowing you’re coming to London with me in a few weeks, well, it takes the sting out.”
“Aww!” I fling my arms around his neck and squeeze tight. “I’m excited, too.”
“Before I go, I need to know . . .” He examines my face before he continues. “I’m going to be asked about us. What do you want me to say?”
“What do you want to say?”
“Your call.”
“What do you think would be best?”
“I’m prepared to say whatever you’re most comfortable with, honestly. If I say we’re dating, then most likely attention on us will amp up, you know? If I say we’re just friends, well, it may or may not amp up the attention.”
“Ugh. I guess go the ‘friends’ route and hope that it keeps things more on the quiet side.”
“Okay,” he says as his phone dings again. “I have to go.” We kiss once more and then—poof! He’s gone.
***
I’ve always loved the buzz in the air between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and this year is no different. Except, well, it is. My head’s wrapped around three things: the need to finish this composition that’s driving me nuts, the future of spending Christmas in London with Dan’s family, and spotting Dan’s face on all sorts of magazines at newsstands I pass every day. But right now, thanks to Bridget, the TV in my apartment is blaring, “Up next: Dan Chase!”
“Claire!” she calls to me from the living room couch.
“Be right there! You guys want any chips?” I ask as I begin dumping some into a bowl.
“Just get in here—he’s almost on!” Bridget yells.
“I’m not sure I should watch him,” I say, carrying my drink and chips to the couch and setting them on the coffee table.
“Why not?” asks Camille. She grabs a handful of chips.
“I don’t know. It’s kind of weird. I haven’t seen him on TV since we started dating, so . . . it’s just weird.”
Camille gives me a sideways glance. “You’re weird. He wants you to watch.”
“Sit down and shush,” Bridget says as the opening to Ryan Rockford’s Late Night Show begins. The host does his monologue, and when he mentions Dan’s name, I can hear how predominately female the audience is—and how loudly they can scream, too.
It takes forever for Dan to finally be introduced, but when he is, he comes out from the side of the stage and sets the world on fire. Or maybe that’s just me because I cannot peel my eyes from the TV. There’s that smile I love, and he’s dressed in a deep green button down shirt, a relaxed sports jacket, and he’s waving to the audience. He exudes confidence and sexiness—out of all of his fine pores. My God. I’ve been under his spell many times, but seeing him through the distance of the TV, and I’m almost more mesmerized than ever. Shouldn’t I be less affected at some point?
Camille elbows me. “He looks good, huh?” She laughs and laughs because I’m only able to whimper. “And you didn’t want to watch. Ha!”
The audience has yet to calm down. Ryan laughs while Dan smiles and blushes. “All right, everyone, just calm down,” Ryan says. He strokes Dan’s arm. “He’s very soft, too, ladies.” The screams erupt again, and Ryan playfully scolds the audience to quiet down.
“So, Dan, welcome. Great to have you here.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to be here, and thank you for that welcome,” he says with a nod to the audience.
“Yes, quite the welcome. So, life’s pretty good, eh?” Ryan looks expectant, hopeful, ready to dish with Dan.
Dan smiles playfully—he knows where this is going. So do I actually, because they always wind up an audience and go for the hot gossip first. More cheers from the crowd. Another shy smile from Dan. A shriek of “I love you, Dan!” is heard clearly.
“Yes, life’s very good.”
“You’ve been working nonstop the last few months, but our lovely audience wants to know what kinds of things you do in your free time,” Ryan says with a smile that makes me nervous—not sure why. Dan seems unfazed.
“I don’t have much free time, but when I do, I pretty much lie there and stare at the ceiling. Sometimes I go really crazy and order Chinese or pizza.”
The audience laughs. I do, too. His charm is so easy, natural.
“Which is your favorite—Chinese or pizza?”
“Depends on the day. Sometimes I’ll just pour a bowl of Lucky Charms,” he says, looking right into the camera. My heart leaps—that comment’s for me—and I smile like an idiot.
Camille and Bridget crack up.
“Wow—I didn’t figure you to be a Lucky Charms fan,” Ryan says.
Dan shrugs. “Well, I wasn’t until a friend of mine introduced me to it, but now, it’s . . . my life.”
Ryan and the audience laugh again.
“It’s good to have friends who broaden your horizons, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Speaking of friends, it seems like you made some new ones this year.”
“It’s nice to make new friends, don’t you think?”
“Oh yes. Any special friends you’d like to tell us about? Maybe this one?” A picture of us in Mexico flashes up on the large screen behind them. It’s a bit grainy, but we’re mid-walk, wearing swimsuits, and are as happy as can be. I gasp.
Dan twists around to see the photo and turns back, glancing down and shaking his head slightly, perhaps trying to hide that full-wattage smile he’s wearing. He finally looks up, and his face is flushed. He shifts in his seat.
“Who’s this friend, Dan?” There are grumblings in the audience and a few boos.
Dan turns to the audience. “She’s a good friend of mine.” He smiles.
“Just a friend? There’ve been rumors that you’re off the market,” Ryan says playfully.
Dan smiles at Ryan. “We’re good friends.”
“I’d like a good friend like that, too. Have any you can spare?” Ryan says, laughing. “All right, well, we’ve got to go to commercial, but we’ll be back with more Daniel Chase!”
Afterwards, I text Dan: Cherry. Oak. Pine. I’m pining and can’t wait for more of your wood.
***
The next morning, I’m startled awake by my cell phone ringing. I glance at the clock—seven a.m.—and see it’s my mom calling. It always makes me nervous when she—or anyone—calls at a strange time.
“Hello?”
“Hi, honey, did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but that’s okay. Everything all right?” I sit up and rub my eyes.
“I don’t know—you tell me. I saw Dan on TV last night, and I’m wondering if you two broke up.”
“What? Why would you say that?”
“Because Dan said you two were just friends, so I want to know if you’ve broken up?” She sounds almost eager and excited.
“No, we didn’t, Mom.”
She huffs a little. “Oh.”
“Is that why you’re calling me? I thought something was wrong.”
“Yes, there is something wrong, because what kind of boy denies someone he supposedly cares about? And on national television, at that. You’d think he’d be proud to say he’s dating you, but no. He seemed perfectly happy to tell the world he’s single.”
“Did we watch the same show, Mom? I mean, yes, he said we’re friends, which we are, and he said it like that because I told him to.”
“Why would you do that? Are you ashamed of him?”
“He and I decided that we should try to keep our relationship quiet.”
“Or he decided, didn’t he? He talked yo
u into it so he could have you while dating other women, too.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh no? He’s probably halfway across the world, and you don’t know where he is or who he’s with, do you?”
I breathe deeply. She rattles me every time. “If he wanted to do that, I suppose he could, but I trust him.”
“So while you’re home, growing old waiting for him, he announces to the world that he’s single and gallivants around doing God knows what. You realize the people around him will turn a blind eye if he wants them to.”
Every single fear is exposed, raw and throbbing, and she’s cutting them fresh, winding up my mind.
“I just don’t know what’s gotten into you, Claire. Mr. Perfect isn’t perfect. Mark my words. You’re living in some fantasy world.”
“Do you think he’d invite me along with him on his press tour if he wanted to be with other people? Or invite me to London to meet his family?”
“Well, he probably expected you to say no, but the offer makes him look like a great guy, and now all his options are open. And who knows about London, Claire. Are you still planning on going?”
I shouldn’t let her words seep into my mind, but now my mouth is dry, and there’s a pit in my belly. “Yes, Mom, I’m going.” Am I?
“I’ll set your place just in case. Be smart, Claire.”
We hang up, and I lie in bed, totally wound up and unwound at the same time. I breathe deeply. I glance at the clock and only twenty minutes have passed, but it feels like days. I’m ready to call Dan, but am I really going to tell him my mother has me doubting him? That’s shitty. Plus, he’s far away and probably isn’t available.
No, it’s time to hit the gym hard. After heavy weights and a fast run, I arrive home feeling better, more in-control than when I left. Later, I head to the practice room and work on the composition David needs soon. Pressure, pressure, pressure.
***
A week or so later, Dan’s on TV again, but this time it’s with his castmates, including megabitch, Sophie Miller.
I’m sitting with Camille and Bridget. They’re tuned in, but . . . “Maybe I shouldn’t watch this one.”
“Again? Stop it already, would you?” Camille says.
“Sophie is on this one.”
Camille breathes and scoots next to me. “It’s just business.”
“I know, I know.” And I think back to the conversation he and I had just the other day after he appeared on the Ryan Rockford show. He told me how much he loved my text. How it made him laugh. How he misses me. How he’s counting the days until the New York premiere when we’ll see each other again. I’m ashamed to admit I listened for the slightest change in his voice, the slightest clue that something suspicious was up, and I came up with exactly nothing. The guilt took over for a while until I reminded myself that I’m flawed and exactly as Dan described: sensitive. And fearful. What a recipe for disaster.
On the television, Dan, in his divine beauty and well-tailored suit, sits next to Sophie, Ethan, and Mia on the couch, with Dan closest to the host, Dirk Melody.
“Welcome to all of you!” Dirk says. His blond hair is swept back, and his bright peach suit competes with his gleaming smile for brightness.
All four of the actors smile and wave to the audience. “Thank you,” each mumbles.
“You’re all so young and beautiful, and this movie is just so dark! Tell me, Dan, what drew you to this role?”
Women in the audience dominate the first few seconds with their screaming. “I wanted to stretch myself as an actor, and the material was quite rich and challenging.”
“So it didn’t have anything to do with this fine woman sitting next to you?” Dirk asks, waggling his eyebrows at a smiling Sophie, who pretends to be humble. Faker.
Sophie grabs Dan’s knee. “I believe he was on the fence until he knew I was on board. Right, Dan?”
Dan smiles, but does nothing to move her talons, I mean, hand from his knee. He says, “Right. You are the only reason I did this.” He grins.
She smiles victoriously and removes her hand.
“Claire, sit down,” Bridget says. “You can’t crawl through the TV to rip her arm off.”
“What? Oh. I didn’t even realize I stood up.” I sit back down.
“There is undeniable chemistry in this film. You two light the screen on fire—am I right, everyone?” Dirk asks the audience. There’s loud clapping and hooting.
“Well, you have to have a bond to do some of the things we did,” Sophie says, smiling like there’s a secret to uncover.
“And what did you do to build that kind of bond?” Dirk asks, itching to dig deeper.
“Dan and I talked a lot, went out, got to know each other well—you know, really got to know each other as people, and Dan’s so easy to work with, you know? So easy on the eyes, easy in every way.” Sophie rubs Dan’s arm and laughs. Dirk laughs, too. So does Dan. “But truthfully, it’s part of being an actor, you know?” she says, as if she’s suddenly some kind of real actor instead of a giant asshole. She flips her hair over a shoulder. Bitch.
Dirk asks everyone a few polite questions, and then he’s back to grilling Dan and Sophie. Honestly, I know they ask the leads the most, but this situation is personal and it’s pissing me off.
“The film’s promotion ends just before Christmas, right? So what are your holiday plans, Dan?”
For a split second, I hope he pulls a Tom Cruise and jumps on the couch to declare his love for me, but he says, “Heading to London to spend it with my family.”
“And your plans, Sophie? Heading to London with Dan?” Dirk’s salivating.
“No, I’m doing that!” I shout at the TV.
Camille and Bridget crack up.
Sophie raises her eyebrows and turns to Dan. “Wouldn’t that be fun? We could really paint the town!” she laughs.
“Well, there are rumors of you two dating. We all know how easy the lines blur with actors,” Dirk says in a singsong voice.
“We’re both professionals,” Dan says quickly.
I can feel Bridget and Camille watching me.
“Don’t kiss and tell, right, Mr. Chase? But you’d be quite lucky to have Ms. Miller on your arm.” Dirk winks at Sophie.
“Oh yeah, he’d be lucky, but . . .” Sophie says, pausing to lean in as if telling a secret—on national TV. “I’d be lucky, too.”
“She’s standing again,” Bridget says, looking at me. I’m also breathing hard. I can feel my nostrils flaring.
“He looks uncomfortable, Claire. Look how his hand is balled up on his leg,” Camille says. “And he’s not smiling.”
“Ooh! Is there anything you’d like to confirm, Ms. Miller—perhaps an early Christmas present to all your shippers?”
Sophie laughs and slaps her hand onto Dan’s leg again, and maybe it’s just me hoping, but he pulls his leg away a fraction. “We’re just friends,” Sophie says, smiling slyly.
The show ends, and I haven’t sat down. In fact, I’m pacing. “I need to get over this. And I can’t ask him about it because then . . . you know—”
“What? Just ask him. If it’ll help with your paranoia,” Camille says.
I shake my head. “It’s late. I should just go to bed.” I stomp off to my room and crawl into bed. I’m lying there, itching with frustration and staring at the ceiling when my phone rings. It’s Dan. I momentarily debate answering.
“Hello?” I sound pissed off. I have to rein it in.
“Hey, Claire, how are you? Did I wake you up?”
Damn his hot British accent. “No. Just lying here. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Just arrived in Germany.”
“Wait, I just saw you on Dirk Melody’s show.”
“Oh, that wa
s taped last week. How’d I look? Did you pine for me?” he asks, snickering.
Oh, for God’s sake! I want to scream because his laugh soothes me almost instantly, causing this flip-flopping of emotions inside, which is making me nuts. Why am I like this? Do I really want to have some kind of heart-to-heart over the phone? Do I want him to know how insecure I can be? “You looked . . . great.” I exhale deeply.
“Really? Are you running a fever? What have you done with snarky Claire?”
I force a little laugh and do my best to let go of my worries. “Wait, is this Dan?”
“Ahh! There she is.” He laughs again. “Eight days until I see you at the premiere in New York.”
“Yeah, eight days.” There are so many questions I want to ask, so many things I want to say but I can’t. I shouldn’t. “So, are you enjoying the sights?” Stupid question.
“Eh, I don’t get to see much when I’m promoting. They’ve got our schedule pretty packed, and I’m exhausted, actually.” He pauses, but I can tell he wants to say more. “And honestly, sightseeing with people you work with is just . . . well, not the same as seeing it with someone you want to see them with . . . I don’t want you to feel badly that you didn’t come, because I totally understand, but I really wish you were here. Eight more days is just . . . too fucking long.”
Too fucking long is right! I sigh. “It is. Next time, I’ll come. I’d love to see the sights with you. I’m just not sure you’d have time.”
“There isn’t much free time, but we’d work it out. We always do, right?”
My heart melts. “Yeah, I guess we do.”
“Exactly.”
“Before I forget . . . I got a call earlier from David. He wants me to head out to L.A. tomorrow for a couple of meetings with him and some other musicians, so it might be hard to connect.”