9. Alexis
Jason:Hey, hope your day is going better. I don’t know what your schedule is like this week but hoping you’ll let me take you out for coffee or lunch again?
Jason:I totally understand if you don’t want to be seen out in public with me again. No pressure.
I’ve stared at his texts for way too long now, but I can’t seem to make myself reply. My heart is screaming to take a chance. My brain… well, it’s screaming, PUMP THE FUCKING brAKES! I’m feeling more than a little confused.
In college and med school, I was so focused on doing well and landing my dream residency, I barely thought about dating. And the one time I tried… well, it didn’t go well. And now, with Jason being such a public figure, there’s a part of me, a rather large and loud part of me, that worries that it will eventually destroy whatever we try to build. And that there’s a very real possibility it could destroy the career I’ve worked so hard to build.
And yet… the thought of never seeing him again. Of not knowing where this might go fills me with dread. I don’t want to wake up one day and regret that I let fear get in the way of something good.
Before I can stop myself, I shoot off a quick text back and then toss my phone to the other end of the couch, earning a glare from Slinky as she naps on my lap. I guess I moved too much for her.
Alexis:I’d love to get coffee. There’s a cute local place a few blocks away that we could go to if you’re free tomorrow morning (my shift starts later in the day).
Within moments, my phone dings. Wow, that was fast. But when I dislodge the supremely unhappy Slinky to read his message, it’s not Jason, it’s Dr. Beauford, the other resident in my program.
Beauford: Hey, I know this is super last minute, but is there any way you can cover my shift tomorrow? It wouldn’t add more than a few hours to your week and would get me out of a tight spot with the wife. I really appreciate it.
A week ago, hell, even a few days ago, I would have jumped at the opportunity to cover his shift. I’ve never been one to pass on an opportunity to be at the hospital. My dad’s frequent advice echoes through my brain ‘Textbooks and classes are great, but the only way to truly learn to be a great doctor is to practice in the real world, with real stakes.’ Sage advice from one of the best doctors I’ve ever known, and I don’t just think that because he’s my dad. He’s a legend at my hospital, even after nearly five years of retirement, you can still hear people referring to something he said or did on a nearly weekly basis.
Doubt swirls in my gut as I stare at Beauford’s text. Maybe I can cancel quick with Jason before he can reply. He’d understand. But as I’m about to backtrack, his reply comes in.
Jason: Great! I can stop by your apartment around 9:30? Or, meet you there. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.
I can’t help but smile at his text. He clearly doesn’t want to seem too eager, but it shines through anyway. My heart begins to race, and I feel a little jittery. I reread Beauford’s message and get a little ticked off. I’ve covered for him more times than I can count, and for the first time, I’m annoyed he asked. The man always seems to ask last minute. And now that I’m rereading it, I notice how he takes it for granted that I’ll say yes. I really appreciate it. Like it didn’t even cross his mind that I’d say no.
Before I can stop myself, I decline Beauford, and tell Jason he can come pick me up at my apartment door. It takes hours before I feel less sick about letting my career take the back seat for once.
***
At nine thirty sharp, I hear a knock at my door. I feel butterflies as I take one last look in my entryway mirror and fluff my hair. I blow a kiss to Slinky, who definitely ignores me, and peek through the peephole just to confirm it’s him. I only feel a little gross for taking a hot second to watch him as he rocks back on his heels, hands shoved in his jean pockets. He looks excited, but nervous. Which is good because that’s exactly what I feel. Who knew? The stars… they’re just like us!
I yank open the door and quickly step out, shutting then locking it in record time. I don’t trust Slinky anymore, even when she’s asleep in her cat tree.
“Sorry, I just don’t feel like repeating how we met today.” I smile, hoping I don’t come off as rude for not inviting him inside. Or greeting him. Shit, I’m bad at this.
“Completely understandable.” He chuckles, running a hand quickly through his hair. “If she was my cat, I’d probably do the same thing.”
And just like that, my nerves dissipate. He gets it. I have to remind myself he’s not just some Hollywood fuckboy, out of touch with reality. He’s down to earth, kind, and, well, normal. I don’t have to put on a show for him, and from what I’ve gathered, if I tried, he would walk away.
So, when he takes my hand in the elevator, and asks if it’s ok, I say yes, even though my palms are a little sweaty from nerves. Nerves that die down a little more when I notice his palm is a little sweaty too.
As if he can read my thoughts, he looks down at me and we both share a sheepish smile. Like we know, the other knows, we’re nervous and that’s ok. And by the time we make it to the coffee shop, our palms are dry and our smiles are just smiles.
***
“Wait, wait, wait!” I throw my hands up, laughing so hard my stomach hurts. “You just blurted that line out, hands down the funniest line in that whole movie, and they kept it in the final cut?”
Jason shrugs, grinning into his coffee cup. “It happens more often than you think. Some of the best lines and scenes are spontaneous. And more often than not accidents.”
“Ok, so then what’s your favorite thing you’ve done on set that was a total accident but made it to the big screen?”
He sits back and looks out the window, clearly contemplating his answer. Then his eyes light up as he finds the memory he’s looking for. Just as he opens his mouth, a couple of kids edge up to our table, clutching their phones nervously.
“Are—” one the kids’ voices cracks, as he stares at Jason in awe. “Are you Jason Adams?”
Jason smiles, “I am. You kids looking to take a photo with me?” They all nod quickly, completely tongue tied. Jason glances at me, eyebrows raised, clearly asking for permission. I smile and hold out my hand to the main kid, so I can use their phone to take the picture. The interaction lasts maybe five minutes, but the group leaves looking like they just won the lottery.
“Sorry about that. I know not everyone loves it when fans interrupt.” He takes a sip of his coffee and reaches over to entangle our hands across the small table. “When it’s kids, I try to always take a moment to take a selfie, or sign something. Even if I’m in the middle of something. I hope that’s ok.” He can’t quite meet my eyes, like he’s embarrassed or nervous that I’ll react badly.
“Jason, the only time I’ll ever be annoyed by you taking the time to do something with fans is if you don’t want to do it. Otherwise, never feel bad about it. At least not with me.” He slowly nods, clearly digesting what I’ve said. While he does, I observe the café around us. And for the first time since we arrived, I notice all the people glancing our way, clearly discussing us. Maybe they’ve been watching us the whole time, or maybe they only took notice once those kids came over. Either way, I’m suddenly a little on edge, not sure what to do.
“Try to ignore them.” Jason’s quiet voice pulls me back to the table. To us. His hand gently squeezes mine. “For the most part, people will leave you alone if you make it clear you’re not ‘open for business’ so to speak. Kids, don’t always pick up on those cues, but that’s ok, I’d much rather take pictures with young people, than adults.” He smiles reassuringly, and I find myself smiling back. Because of course the wonderful human in front of me makes sure to always take time out of his day for young fans.
“That reminds me of a question I’ve been curious about.”
“Shoot.”
“How come you live in an apartment building with a bunch of strangers? And I always thought celebrities had bodyguards following them around to keep away the crazy women in unicorn footie pajamas.” I smirk as he laughs. We both know I looked completely nuts that night, even if it seems to be turning out ok.
“It’s all personal preference, really. My parents keep security staff around most of the time, unless they’re at their home on Catalina Island. I don’t know if you remember this in the news, but when I was about ten, my mom had a stalker. They eventually caught the guy, and she’s fine, but because of that, having security makes them feel safe. Isla hardly ever feels the need since she’s in the Indie scene and often flies under the radar, unless we’re all together as a family.” He takes a sip of his coffee before continuing.
“Mostly, I do without. During premiers, especially for franchises like Agent Smith, I’ll hire on some security. Fans tend to get a little more intense then. And honestly, I often relied on Vanessa’s security team when we were together. But for the most part, I hate the idea of being followed around. It just feels wrong, and invasive. As for living in an apartment building, it’s not ideal. But after Vanessa and I imploded, I needed a place on short notice, and this was the best we could come up with. And I have to say, it’s worked out pretty well.” He nudges me with his foot and smiles, making me melt.
Before I can reply, my phone alarms dings. “Shit, has it been that long already?”
“Time to go?” I nod, and he gets up without argument, grabbing our dishes and bussing them to the counter. I’m shocked we’ve been here for as long as we have, I didn’t even notice. Usually when I have a weird start time for a shift, I’m anxiously watching the clock until it’s time to leave. I feel a little twinge as we leave, hand in hand, wondering if he can distract me this much now, what happens when we really start dating?
What am I getting myself into?
***
The next day, I’m passing Dr. Beauford and an attending in the hall when I overhear their conversation.
“I’m not exaggerating when I say I’m in the doghouse, man. Why the hell does it even matter that I missed a three-year-old’s dance recital? She won’t remember it anyway. And I tried to get my shift covered…”
Their conversation trails off as I get farther away, a sick feeling settling in my gut. I already felt guilty when I got on my shift yesterday when I heard it had been a crazy morning. But now learning that I caused Beauford to miss his kid’s dance recital?
What the hell am I doing? Am I really risking ten plus years of study over a guy? It’s not until I’m home with Slinky that I’m able to be a bit more rational. It’s not my fault Beauford didn’t plan better to get his shift covered. I’d bet my favorite stethoscope he knew about that recital well in advance, and did nothing about it until his wife put pressure on him. The guy is a good doctor, but he’s an ass most of the time. I don’t get what his wife sees in him.
By the time I’m starting to drift off, I’ve mostly set aside my guilt. But there’s still a tiny voice in the back of my mind, screaming that I’m about to lose it all.