Chapter IV
IV
Ana
Everything is in place: Two glasses of water, drops of condensation sliding down the sides. Meats, cheeses, fruits, and nuts on a live-edge wooden platter. Small plates. Cloth napkins. Fluffed pillows with a crisp chop at the center. Thermostat at sixty-eight.
From my seat, I survey myself in the mirror above the credenza: Hair smooth and curled at the ends.
Soft pencil strokes filling out my eyebrows, undetectable to the naked (male) eye.
I tug at my crisp white top to smooth out a crease trying to pop near my waist. I look good. Put together. Persuasive.
The doorbell chimes, and I glance toward the entryway as Emily answers it.
My eyes catch on the broad, slightly hunched shoulders of a sculpted man.
I take stock: Dark hair with a bit of wave that he rakes a strong hand through.
Chinos spread tight across his thighs. Tapered waist hidden beneath a fitted button-down shirt that looks out of place on a guy who’s clearly never spent a day in an office.
Levi’s been around the studio, but this is the first time I’ve really looked at him.
Yes, I think. This’ll do.
He follows Emily to the sunroom and stands adjacent to my chair—one of two flanking a coffee table—waiting for me to rise to greet him. Instead, I gesture for him to sit.
“Appreciate you being here,” I say. He could not look less comfortable as he folds his body into the small seat.
“Does anyone say no to you?” I clock a nervous twitch at the corner of his lips. He quickly bites down on it.
“You’d be surprised. The smart ones don’t. And you’re here, so.” I raise a brow, wondering how he’ll play it.
“Tell that to my dad.”
I huff out a laugh, and he stiffens. Seemingly unsure of what to say next, he runs a hand through his hair again, ruffling it to fall across his forehead. It frames his hazel eyes as they track back and forth. My initial read was right—this man is anxious as hell.
“So, Levi, here’s the thing”—I say his name intentionally and make sure to hold his gaze—“I am not good at asking for help. I am not good at needing help. I would love nothing more than to never need anyone’s help for anything at all. But today, I need something from you.”
“OK,” he replies. Tension lines his face, and his lips are pulled tight.
I bring a hand to the glass sitting in front of me.
The perspiration makes the cup slippery under my fingers.
“I want you to be seen with me.” The words spill out of my mouth before I have the chance to swallow them.
What the hell was that? I clear my throat in an attempt to button myself back up.
“What I mean to say is that I’d like you to join me for a few events so we can be photographed together to sell the press a love story. ”
Levi raises an eyebrow and tilts his head.
He reaches forward to grab a plate and begins piling fruit and cheese on it.
It’s a relief to see him settle into his chair, to make himself at home here.
“Like a fake boyfriend? It doesn’t seem like it would be hard for you to find a real one.
” He doesn’t look up as he pops a grape in his mouth.
I push the charcuterie board closer to him.
“I don’t have the time or energy for, let alone interest in, a real relationship at this point. I want someone for publicity, and I’d like for it to be you.” It has to be you, I don’t say.
He runs his tongue over his teeth—straight enough but with a bit of character, one canine turned slightly in—and drums his fingers on his legs.
Contemplating. He considers what I’ve suggested for a minute before inching his fingers across the table and sliding the meat and cheese back my way.
He nods, an encouragement to partake, like if I’m proposing we become a fake couple, the least we can do is share a meal first. “I may be new to Hollywood and how things work here, but I can’t imagine that pretending like that is a good idea.
We’re going to be working together, and I’m trying to get off on the right foot with Colt. Sorry, I can’t.”
“Colt knows, actually. He signed off on the idea.” I grab a few almonds and rustle them around in my palm, the papery skin leaving flakes between my fingers.
Levi’s eyes widen. He sets down his plate to stretch his arms behind his head. After taking a breath, he brings his palms to rub against the tops of his thighs.
“I’m sure it’s uncomfortable, to know we discussed this before looping you in, but if I can explain . . .”
He stands up, looking over my shoulder for Emily, or perhaps to map an escape route himself.
My mind reels, scrambling for something to say to get him to stay. If I lose this role . . . I can’t let myself complete the thought. Not when my career is all I have.
My poised, assured persona is clearly not working with Levi, so I decide to slip into another version of myself. To try a different, more physical approach.
“Hey, why don’t we go outside? We can walk and talk.
Please?” I drop the almonds onto a plate.
With a pleading expression, I sidle up against his torso and loop my arm through his.
The visible pulse in his neck, blood rushing against muscle, quickens.
Both of his eyes flicker closed as though he’s deciding whether to entertain this request.
But then his lids pop open, he exhales a breath, and he lets me lead him out the side door.