While We Were Dating

by Jasmine Guillory

  She adjusted his bow tie.

  “You do indeed.” She touched a finger to her lips, and then to his. “I can’t kiss you and mess up my makeup, but don’t worry. Later I’ll show you exactly how great you look in that tux.”

  Ben let his eyes move slowly up and down her body.

  “I can’t even tell you how much I’m looking forward to that,” he said.

  A few moments later, the noise around the limo increased dramatically. They’d been barely moving once they left the hotel, but they slowed down even more.

  “Holy shit.” Ben looked out the window at the wall of people lining the streets. “Is it always like this?”

  Anna shook her head.

  “Just for the big ones. And awards shows, obviously.” She grinned. “It’s kind of fun to be in a movie that gets all of this. I’ve done some pretty big stuff, but usually not on this level. They stagger the red carpet arrivals, from least to greatest—I’m in the B+ zone, from what I can tell about the timing. I think that’s a good sign? Anyway, none of these people are here for me—well, very few of them, anyway—but it’s fun to be a part of it.”

  A few minutes later, the limo slowed even more, and then stopped. Anna squeezed Ben’s hand.

  “Glad you’re here with me tonight,” she said.

  Before he could respond, her car door opened, and she stepped out of the car.

  He got out on his side, and the cheers almost deafened him. He hoped people from that asshole studio who thought Anna wasn’t marketable enough were paying attention.

  He joined her at the edge of the walkway and took her hand. It felt natural to do that after the past few weeks.

  “Very few people are here for you, huh?” he said to her under his breath as she smiled and waved and blew kisses at the crowd yelling her name.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said when they finally started walking toward the theater. “I guess there are more here for me than I thought.”

  They walked and waved, walked and waved. A few people even shouted Ben’s name, which amused both him and Anna.

  Finally, they got to what Florence had informed him was called the “step and repeat,” where there were the big movie posters for background, and rows of photographers there to take pictures of them. They held hands as they waited their turn, and Ben looked around at the wild scene that surrounded them.

  “Nervous?” Anna asked him. “I was so nervous at my first one of these, my God.”

  He smiled at her slowly and shook his head.

  “With you here next to me? Impossible.”

  Just then, someone with headphones on came up to Anna.

  “Ms. Gardiner? They’re ready for you.”

  “Thanks so much,” Anna said. Ben offered her his arm, and they swept into the center of the lights.

  Ben had been nervous about this part, even though he hadn’t wanted to admit that to Anna. He’d been worried he’d embarrass her, that he wouldn’t stand in the right way or look in the right place or would have a deer-in-the-headlights blankness on his face and everyone would criticize Anna for whatever he did wrong. But once they were standing there, the lights and cameras all on him, he realized that what he’d said had been right. He had nothing to worry about with Anna there with him. She coached him through the whole thing.

  “Just look right to the center,” she said as they took their mark. “Everyone is going to try to get you to look at them and their camera, but don’t pay them any attention—we will just go center, then left, then right. So for now, just look straight ahead and smile.”

  The lights and cameras on them were almost blinding, but he did what she said. He smiled straight ahead, but he had no idea what to do with his hands or feet—thank God Anna’s arm was through one of his, but was his hand just supposed to . . . dangle there like that? What did it do normally? He couldn’t even remember now.

  He obeyed her pressure on his arm and turned with her, first to one side, then the other. And then, before he left to join the person beckoning to him to leave Anna’s side, he looked down at her.

  “Have I told you yet tonight you look beautiful in that dress? I’m so glad you wore it.”

  She turned her attention from the cameras to him, and her smile softened.

  “I’m so glad I wore it, too.”

  They smiled at each other like that for just a second, and it felt like they were all alone, no cameras, no lights, no people, just the two of them.

  “Um, Mr. Stephens? Can we get some with just Ms. Gardiner?”

  He nodded, but he didn’t look away from Anna.

  “Knock ’em dead,” he said to her.

  He followed the harried-looking woman to the far side of the step and repeat. He stood there watching Anna as she posed and laughed and gave the world that dazzling smile that now made him think of that moment in the bar when he’d felt he’d truly understood her.

  She gave a final wave to the photographers. Then, as he watched, she did a series of interviews with reporters, where she laughed and sparkled and said complimentary things about the movie that he knew were bullshit but sounded very convincing. Finally, she came and joined him.

  “Okay.” She squeezed his hand. “That part is over. Now it’s just like a normal movie night, except in formal wear.”

  They walked slowly toward the theater—slowly, because every ten seconds Anna would stop and air-kiss someone and introduce him, and then they’d all keep walking and it would happen again.

  Once they got inside, there was more circulating—he knew his role in all of these interactions was to smile when Anna introduced him, tell whoever it was that he “loved their work!” and see them light up and turn to Anna and say “You’ve got a good one here.” It happened four times in a row. The fourth time, he and Anna barely moved away before they both burst out laughing.

  “If you can say one thing about Hollywood people—and I include myself in this—we’re nothing if not predictable about how much we love praise,” Anna said.

  Ben laughed and touched her arm.

  “Yes, but when I say it to you, I mean it,” he said. “I don’t know who most of these people are.”

  Soon the lights flickered, and they all made their way into the theater. Their seats were in a section reserved for the cast. He’d always been very picky about where he sat in a movie theater, but not even he could complain about this.

  When the lights dimmed, all of the chatter quieted. The director and producer—at least, that’s who Ben assumed it was—went up onstage and introduced the movie, to much applause, and as soon as they took their seats, the movie started. He and Theo usually went to see movies like this together. He’d always been secretly relieved that Maddie had never wanted to come along. He loved Maddie, but this was their thing. He’d have to bring Theo the action figure that had been waiting on his seat.

  He enjoyed the hell out of the movie from the start, though he wasn’t a harsh critic of movies like this—all he wanted were some laughs and a few good explosions and he was perfectly happy. The first time Anna was on-screen, he looked over at her, and she had a wide grin on her face. She leaned over to whisper to him.

  “I can’t wait to see the special effects. Ooh!” Just then, on-screen Anna shot fire out of her fingertips and the whole crowd applauded, Anna included.

  Midway through the movie, someone walked into a room carrying a huge suitcase. A very familiar-looking huge suitcase.

  Anna grabbed Ben’s arm. They looked at each other, their eyes wide, their lips pressed together, both shaking with painful, silent laughter. Finally, something funny happened on-screen, and everyone else in the theater laughed, so Anna and Ben could let out their shouts of laughter. They leaned against each other, laughing and shaking so much they were helpless. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, and she rested her head against his shoulder. It m
ade him so happy that despite her dazzling smile and stunning looks, he still felt like he knew the real Anna, the person who was funny and loving and kind and anxious and courageous and a constant joy to be around, no matter her mood. He felt like he could be like this forever, close to her, laughing with her, with their public face and inside jokes.

  And that’s when he realized it.

  He was in love with her.

  That’s why he’d felt so bad for the past few days. It was because he knew this was the end, and he didn’t want it to be the end, because he was in love with her.

  Oh God.

  * * *

  —

  Anna tried to repress her triumphant grin as they walked into the party after the premiere, but it was a serious challenge. She’d been so worried that despite the recent push to have her do promo for the movie, her resulting role would be almost nonexistent. But somehow, in the editing and the CGI-ing of the movie, her role had magically become a pivotal one. She’d been so happy, so relieved, in the theater she’d almost cried. She did cry when her character got huge cheers from the crowd in the theater in the final scene. And she hadn’t died! Which might mean another big paycheck in the future, if she was lucky.

  But even better than that, if what her gut was telling her was right—and it often was, at least for things like this—this role was going to be great for her career in so many other ways. The box office for this movie would be over-the-top no matter what, but if her reviews were excellent, and if the press came calling, that would mean very good things for her ability to get everything else she wanted.

  Like the role in the Varon film.

  Damn, did she feel victorious. All of her stress, all of her hard work—it had all been worth it.

  Her smile got wider.

  “Anna!” One of the other women in the movie—whom she’d filmed no scenes with; it was that kind of movie—opened her arms. “You were incredible! Wasn’t she incredible, Jeff?” she said to the man next to her, presumably her husband. “And I love your dress!” Anna had only met her twice before, but she gave her an enormous hug and vigorous air-kiss. Which, she was glad to see, a photographer was just in the right place to catch.

  Since last year, she’d worried that her anxiety would bleed over and infect the things she loved about this job—the acting itself, most of all, but also parties like the one tonight. Where she and her colleagues could embrace and celebrate one another, make connections, even make friends. Some of her best Hollywood friendships had come from industry parties like this one, mostly starting from tipsy chats in the bathroom, like with all good parties. And tonight, she was so relieved that she could still find joy in nights like this that she almost laughed out loud.

  And she loved her dress, too. She usually wore sleek, appropriate, boring looks to things like this—she didn’t love any of them, but they were what designers would make for her size, and she looked good in them. She never got on any best-dressed lists for them, but she never got on any worst-dressed lists, either. Except for that time at the Golden Globes, when she’d gone rogue. But this dress was the opposite of her usual dresses, and she felt incredible in it. It was fun, and a little frothy, but still elegant. It felt like her. She was so glad Ben had encouraged her to wear it.

  She introduced Ben to everyone, and they all exclaimed over him and air-kissed him, which she was pretty sure amused them both. He’d been on the quiet side since they’d left the theater, but no matter how much of an extrovert someone was, parties like this were overwhelming the first time. At one point he disappeared, then came back and handed her a plate of finger food—everything small enough that she could pop it in her mouth with one bite and not mess up her lipstick. Bless him.

  She was happy that Ben got to see her in her element tonight, especially after last week. She hated that he’d seen her fall apart like that—it was one thing for him to know what she’d been through last year, but another for him to see it. She didn’t want him to think she was the fragile, needy person she’d been last week; she didn’t want anyone to think of her like that.

  Tonight she was a star, and Ben had a front-row seat. Every so often she could feel his eyes on her, and she would look at him and smile. Maybe the next time he came down . . .

  Oh. Right. There wasn’t going to be a next time. She’d forgotten.

  Well, but did it have to be that way? They could keep this going for a while, couldn’t they? Why had they given the premiere as an arbitrary end date, after all? That had been all Simon, but she might need this to continue for a little while longer, just through the press for this movie, and whatever came afterward. She’d see what Ben thought.

  “Are you bored? Do you want to go?” she asked him under her breath.

  He shook his head.

  “I’m happy to stay as long as you want to—this is a great night for you; you should enjoy it.”

  She kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you. I hope you’re having fun, too.”

  He touched her arm.

  “Of course I am.”

  But she wasn’t convinced by the look on his face. She knew him too well by now for that. She started to ask him if something was wrong, but then he smiled that wicked smile of his at her.

  “I’ll be having even more fun later.”

  She laughed and started to answer but heard her name again and turned away from him.

  Thirty minutes later, though, she touched his hand.

  “You ready? Let’s head for the door.”

  She didn’t stop to wait for his answer.

  “Are you sure?” he asked her as they made their way out. “You seem like you’re having fun.”

  She nodded.

  “I am. But I learned awhile ago I have to leave these things when I’m still having fun—much better to do it then than five minutes after it all stops being fun.”

  They slipped out the back door, and Ben quickly found their waiting limo.

  “You didn’t say good-bye to anyone,” Ben said once they got inside. “I wouldn’t expect you to be the type to disappear like that.”

  She laughed.

  “I didn’t used to be, but you’ve got to do it at these things! Otherwise you’re there twice as long.”

  She pulled her phone out of her purse. She had to text Simon about tonight.

  He’d texted her already.

  My phone has been ringing off the hook about you tonight. Have a lot of champagne, we’ll talk tomorrow.

  She grinned.

  On it. Not to jinx anything, but . . . I’m feeling good about tonight. Really good.

  Me too.

  Ben was silent next to her, but she flicked the light on in the back of the limo, leaned in close, and took a selfie with him. He smiled obediently when she held up her phone.

  “Had to memorialize tonight just for me,” she said.

  He gestured to her phone.

  “Was that Simon?”

  She put it back in her purse.

  “Yeah—he’s already been hearing a lot of buzzy things about tonight! Ahhh, I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but—”

  Ben put his hand on her cheek.

  “That never works. Get your hopes up all you want—life is more fun that way.”

  She put her hand on top of his.

  “You’re right. I will.”

  She’d expected, after what he’d said at the party, that Ben would be all over her in the limo. But he seemed content to sit there with his arm around her and his hand in hers as they drove home in the glowing nighttime sky. She almost turned to kiss him, but he’d seemed a little off for the past few hours, so she held back. She wanted to give him room to breathe, too, like he’d given her the week before.

  When they got home, she took off her shoes by the front door.

  “My feet are going to kill me tomorrow—ask me then
if I thought these shoes were worth it,” she said as they walked together into the kitchen.

  She reached into the fridge and took out the pizza she’d had Florence pick up this morning.

  “Now we can eat—I never actually get to really eat at those things—I’m always too busy talking to people. So I planned ahead for when we’d get home starving.” She smiled up at him and noticed that he’d loosened his tie. “But thank you for getting me snacks tonight; that was the best.”

  He smiled down at her. Something was different in his smile.

  “What is it?” she asked him. “Is something wrong?”

  He hesitated, then shook his head.

  “Nothing at all.” He took the pizza box from her and set it down on the counter. “I just have to do this.”

  She expected him to kiss her, but he didn’t. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

  He turned on the light when they got into her room and just looked at her for a long moment. Finally, he reached for her hair, and slowly, delicately, took out all of the bobby pins holding it in place, one by one. When her hair was free, he kissed one shoulder, then the other. He walked around behind her and lifted her hair out of the way and kissed the nape of her neck. The ripples of his kiss shimmered over her whole body.

  He slowly pulled down the zipper on her dress and followed the line of the zipper with his kisses. Soft. Gentle. But with so much promise of what was to come. When the zipper was finally all the way down, she let the dress fall to the floor and stepped out of it. She turned around to look at him and saw the hunger in his eyes. But there was joy, too, and kindness, and that laughter that was always just under the surface with Ben.

  She reached for him, but he stepped back.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  She dropped her hands. She would let him be in control tonight.

  He unhooked her bra, and as he took it off her body, he cupped her breasts in his hands, just for a second.

  Then he moved his hands over her whole body. He lingered on her hips, her waist, her thighs. He slowly pulled down the shapewear he’d called sexy last week. She usually made sure to get rid of it before any man saw her in it—she’d abandoned pairs more than once in bathroom stall garbage cans before leaving parties—but tonight, she hadn’t bothered.