Chapter X #2
She pulls a chair up to the side that has the rail dropped and introduces herself.
“Hey, friend! I’m Ana. OK, you have to tell me about these braids.
Did you do them yourself?” Goldie, who looks to be about twelve, lights up like a firework, an explosion of energy in the room that sparks the smiles of everyone else—her parents, her younger sister, the nurse monitoring her vitals.
Within minutes, Ana has turned in her chair, and Goldie’s hands are in her hair, weaving the strands together.
Seeing Ana like this pushes my heart into my throat.
Here she is, managing her own medical issues, connecting with patients like she’s their favorite older sister.
Soft and warm—that’s who Ana is here. She’s dynamic.
She really sees people, and they come alive under her attention.
She’s not hard and cold, like the public treats her.
If only they could see her like this. And yet, I have a feeling that she wouldn’t actually want that.
That this side of her is reserved for those who deserve it.
Based on her encouragement in the car, I’m starting to think I might be one of them.
The thought makes it hard to swallow, and I don’t know what to do with that.
Ana flips a braid behind her shoulder and knocks me out of my thoughts. “Any last-minute requests, Goldie? Want us to sign anything before we go see your neighbor?”
Goldie smiles before twisting her lips to the side as though she’s not sure she should say what she really wants to say.
“C’mon, Goldie,” I prompt. “Now’s your chance. What can we do for you?”
She turns to Ana, her energy quieter now.
“This is silly, but I know you’re here with your boyfriend,” her eyes dart over to me and then back, “and I’m wondering if you guys could recreate that famous scene from She’s All Mine with the kiss and dip?
If I put it on Snap, my friends would lose their minds. ”
The moment Goldie’s referring to is from one of Ana’s first big roles—the only film of hers I’ve seen, in fact, years back with my college girlfriend who wanted to go on opening night.
It’s the kind of rom-com that has found a new audience thanks to streaming.
It probably has an abysmal Rotten Tomatoes score but is the subject of thousands of fan accounts.
“Oh, well, Levi wasn’t a part of that film, so I don’t know if . . .”
“Of course we can,” I interject. It wouldn’t be hard. And who am I to turn down a girl who has limited chances to impress her friends when she’s stuck in a hospital bed? If Ana’s in, I’m in.
“Well, OK, then.” Ana nods, standing from her chair and walking over to me. “Better get your camera ready, Goldie.”
With cautious steps, she approaches me. The others in the room move to line the walls, opening up space at the foot of the bed. “Sorry,” she mouths as she gets close. I shake my head. There is nothing to be sorry about.
“Good?” I ask quietly. She nods.
I move in a blur. My arm wraps around her waist, my hand grips the soft flesh of her thigh, and she hinges back, her braids grazing the floor at full tilt.
Her hips press flush to my body, and my blood rushes south, heat and need building as we touch.
I know this is for show, my brain knows it’s not real, but my body only understands that she’s pressed against me and that I like it.
I lean forward and bring her to me, her breasts grazing the plane of my chest, and then her mouth is on mine.
I feel it everywhere. Warm, full lips notching between my own, the beat of her heart, the thrumming of mine, a soft sigh escaping her throat when we make contact.
No one else could’ve heard it. That sigh was just for me. Or, if not, it was in spite of her and this plan and what we’re supposed to be doing here. She sinks into the kiss like a person might sink into a warm bath. Like it’s comforting, equal parts relief and release.
I soak it in—breathe her in—until I’m fully submerged too. This kiss has no business being this good, not for the purpose of a twelve-year-old’s Snapchat bragging rights. But I’m not complaining. I’m not stopping either.
In the background, someone whistles and says they expected Ana to refuse the request. Someone else agrees. They’re surprised by how kind we are.
Ana stiffens at the exchange and pulls away. When I bring us upright and release her, her lips curve into a guarded smile. She draws a thumb to my mouth to wipe the remnants of her lipstick from my face.
“You did good,” she says, a flush on her cheeks that wasn’t there before.
“We did good.” I center myself with a deep breath before turning to Goldie. “Think that’ll do?”
The squeal she lets out is her answer.
As expected, a group of fans with phones is waiting outside the hospital as we approach the exit. Sensing an opportunity, Ana pulls me toward the automatic doors.
“The car won’t be here for another few minutes,” I say, having just gotten in touch with Edwin.
“I’m not worried about the car.” She gestures ever so slightly in the direction of the onlookers. “Why don’t we give them what they want so they’ll take off? So that they’re gone when these families leave? If we give them the picture, my guess is they’ll pack it up.”
With that, she marches us through the glass doors, under the porte cochere, and behind a pillar.
“I thought we wanted to be seen?” I whisper with a chuckle.
“We want them to think they caught us.” She wraps her arms around my waist and lays her head on my chest like we’re a regular couple stealing a moment. I can’t help but rest my chin on her head, breathing in the coconut scent from her hair.
“You were incredible in there,” I say, feeling the weight of her soften against me as she relaxes into the hug. Her arms grip me tighter.
“Are you kidding me?” She looks up, green eyes bright. “You were incredible in there. That dip? Do they teach dance moves at stunt school?”
A laugh bursts out of my chest. “No, that was pure improv.” Before I can stop myself, I lean down and kiss her forehead. Maybe it’s for the fans. Maybe it’s because it feels so damn natural. Or maybe I need her to stop looking at me like something a bit too honest is starting to happen here.
Before I have a chance to analyze further, Ana pushes up on her toes, loops her arms around my neck, and pulls my lips to hers.
On instinct, my left hand slips to her lower back, my right to cradle her jaw.
It’s not the same showy kiss we had earlier—this is deliberate, searching.
The swipe of her tongue urges my mouth open.
A groan escapes me when she rolls her hips against mine, and I answer with a playful tug of one of her braids.
“Be good, Barlow,” I whisper against her lips. She pulls away just enough to meet my eyes, a spark of challenge in hers.
“I’m always good, Stephens.”
The sound of our ride approaching steals the moment, and Ana places one last kiss to my lips, chaste by comparison, before turning to walk to the car with her hand pulling mine.
The show of affection was just for the cameras. That’s what I tell myself, until she looks at me over her shoulder, a soft smile pulling at her cheeks.
“Unless I don’t want to be good,” she says. “And with you, I’m not so sure.”
I open the door for her and put my hand on the roof of the car to steady myself. Breathe.