Chapter XXV
XXV
Levi
I knock on the large wooden door. It’s still ninety degrees and an hour until sunset, and my sweat glands notice. Or maybe it’s my nerves. I shake out my arms and roll my head to expel some of the pent-up energy pulsing through my body.
“Levi! What a surprise!” Emily opens the door and speaks in a voice that is obnoxiously, suspiciously loud. She winks as she ushers me inside, then whispers, “I wanted to make sure she heard me.”
“I’m confident she did.” I laugh. Somehow, all the trouble I’ve had from being in cahoots with Ana, and then I guess with Colt, didn’t stop me from scheming with Emily to have Ana ready for something at 7 p.m., dressed in whatever, hungry enough but not hangry.
“Levi’s here?” Ana turns the corner to the foyer and stops.
My right hand comes up for a wave, and her face goes soft as she takes in my chinos and button-down shirt.
It’s the same outfit from that first day at her home in LA, though I’m not sure she remembers.
The bouquet of hydrangeas is a new addition, as is the sling cradling my left arm to stabilize my broken collarbone.
“What are you . . . ? Wait, you look so handsome.” She stutters her way through the compliment as I move closer to her.
“And you look beautiful.” I gesture with the flowers and let my hand linger on her arm as she takes them from me.
“I’m wearing jeans and a crop top.” She waves me off. “There’s not somewhere we’re supposed to be tonight for the film, is there?” Her voice rises in pitch. “Hey, Em! There’s not—”
I interject before Emily can answer. “No, no. I’m hoping you’ll go on a date with me.”
“You’re asking me on a date?”
“Yep. Edwin’s waiting for us outside, and you know we can’t disappoint him.”
“Of course not. Um, let me change.”
“Don’t.”
The corners of her mouth turn up. “Well, I’ll throw on some lipstick or something. Just a second.”
Emily appears from the pantry with a vase in hand. “All systems go,” she whispers with a pat on my shoulder.
On a quaint street across from Belmont University, Athens Family Restaurant is flanked by an international market and Mexican cantina, both of which are bustling with college students.
Edwin drops us off out front, and the feel of Ana’s hand in mine as we approach the front door settles some of the nervous energy buzzing under my skin.
When the host welcomes us inside, the atmosphere is sparse, with exposed brick and hardwood floors.
Still cozy. And the place is empty, just as planned.
Ana tilts her head to survey the space, and her eyes land on the table in the corner with a white tablecloth. “Where is everyone?”
“For our first real date, I wanted it to be just you and me. We’ve had plenty of time in front of other people.”
“So you rented out a restaurant?”
I feel myself blushing. “It’s the spot I suggested we visit on the day of the accident. And also a spot I could afford with my first-big-role stuntman salary.”
“This is . . .” Ana squeals and wraps both arms around my waist, squeezing tight. “Wait! Sorry!” She lets go and brings a hand to my sling. “Did I hurt you?”
I slide my good arm around her and drag her back to me, pulling her against my chest and hips. The contact makes me want more. “I’m perfectly fine, promise. You like it?”
“I love it.”
“Then let me just grab this.” I pull out a chair and gesture for her to sit. “No menus tonight. They’re going to bring us a bit of everything.”
“You planned all of this?”
“I’ve found myself with some unexpected free time now that I’m not filming.”
“Just trying to fill it then.”
I settle into my chair and prop my good elbow on the table. “No, just trying to find a way to show someone who showed up for me that I’m here for her too.”
“Uh-huh.” She reaches for her glass. “So it’s a reciprocal gesture.
” She pokes her tongue into the side of her cheek to hide a smile that wants to peek through.
It’s a put-on coy act to make it seem like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.
She’s challenging me; she wants me to say out loud that I want her. I’ll play along.
“Nah, I’m done with favors. No more ‘You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours’ for me. Too transactional, and frankly, too risky.”
“Is that so?”
A waiter approaches with a platter in each hand, overflowing with gyros, souvlaki, spanakopita, falafel . . . also what looks like a bacon cheeseburger, but I’m not here to question the chef.
“You were saying?” Ana asks while unspooling her silverware and placing the blue-and-white napkin on her lap. Then, watching me struggle to navigate my cutlery with my one good hand, she reaches across the table to assist.
“What was I saying?” My foot finds hers and gives it a playful nudge. She nudges back to say, I’m waiting.
I press my palm against the starchy fabric on my thighs to dry the evidence of my nerves.
“At the hospital, when you said, ‘I don’t want to be selfish with my heart anymore’?
I haven’t stopped thinking about that. Because I don’t want to be selfish with my heart anymore, either.
I want to be free with it, but to be honest, I’m scared. ”
Ana reaches for my hand and pushes her fingers through mine, her thumb tracing shapes on my skin. We’re back to the day we met, when she saw my fear and coaxed me out of it with her assurance and her touch. She made me feel brave that day. She’s making me feel brave now.
“You and me, we don’t respond the same way when we’re scared,” I say.
She nods and holds my gaze.
“You claim your ground and build a wall around yourself, so no one can get in. I do the opposite—I run. I ran to LA so I wouldn’t have to face my parents’ disappointment, and then when everything blew up with Colt, I ran from you to avoid yours.”
“Levi, I want you to know—” Ana starts, but I interrupt her.
“Please, let me say this. I spent years running. I convinced myself that leaving is kind, because people are better off without me making their lives complicated. But then you showed up at the hospital—and it was the first time anyone’s come after me.
I screwed up, and I disappointed you, and you showed up anyway. And that made me want to stop running.”
“So you’re letting me catch you?” She tiptoes her nails up my forearm. It tickles, like sparks dancing on my skin.
“I’m already caught. I’ve been caught, if I’m honest, since the day you decided I was going to be yours—fake or not.”
“I do like to stake a claim, don’t I?” A warm flush tints the skin of her cheeks, her chest.
“It’s one of my favorite things about you. You know what you want, and you do what it takes to get it. You’re like Athena that way.”
She takes the napkin from her lap and swats me with it playfully.
“Ah, yes, ‘the maiden goddess,’ able to live life according to her own desires, not bound by societal expectations. That sounds like me.” She’s being sarcastic, but it’s the most accurate summation of Ana Barlow I’ve ever heard.
“Levi, I’ve spent my entire life trying to be perceived as someone I’m not.
Societal expectations are the framework I operate within.
They’re the road map for everything I do. ”
“I hear you, but I’m not sure that’s true anymore.
You might not see it, but I do. You’re here in jeans.
You walked off set last week. If the rumors are true, you gave Colt a piece of your mind, and I haven’t seen you look around once to figure out if there’s a camera near the restaurant.
You are eating food that has cheese and spending time with me because you want to, not because someone expects you to or because it might benefit your image.
” I count off my points on my good hand until I run out of fingers.
“And those walls you put up, the ones you use to keep you safe and keep people at a distance? You let me inside them.”
She sniffles and blinks in response, trying to shut down the wetness that’s gathering at her lashes, under her nose.
“Damn it, Levi.” She brings the napkin to her face and dabs it below her eyes before fanning herself with it. “You could’ve just said you’re sorry, and I would’ve been thrilled, you know.”
“I am sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for any tears that day, or after. I’m not sorry for these, though, because you deserve to hear how incredible you are, even if it makes you cry. I’m going to keep telling you too, so get used to it.”
“What was it you said during our pizza-making date? ‘Don’t start something you can’t finish?’” She taunts with misty eyes.
I lean forward, pulling her gaze. “Oh, we’re starting and finishing. And I’m going to do it right. Since you asked last time, it’s my turn tonight: Will you be my girlfriend?”
“Yes. But for real this time.” Ana gives me a wet and shaky smile.
I pull my chair to her side of the table and set my good arm around her, my palm finding her shoulder and my thumb brushing the spot I love behind her ear.
She melts into me at the contact. “You know, the press is really going to have a field day with this development.”
“You mean the public won’t understand that our fake relationship to cover up unfounded infidelity rumors wasn’t a ploy to get back at Colt for his scheme to fire you? And that somewhere along the line we developed real feelings for each other? Yeah, that’s all . . . a lot.”
“I don’t care about them getting it right. Only making sure that we do.”
“And what does ‘getting it right’ look like? I want to take notes.”
She steadies herself with a lungful of air and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking.
“I want us to be honest about what’s going on in our lives.
I want lazy mornings in bed and evenings making pizza when we’re back in LA.
I want us to push back when the other is being self-deprecating.
I want us to prioritize each other, knowing we’ll make mistakes, but also that we can fix them if we’re willing to be vulnerable.
And I want us to fight for each other, not put up walls or run away when things get hard. ”
“I’m in.” I bring my lips to Ana’s hair and press a kiss to the top of her head. “You know, this reminds me of the list you rattled off the first day we met, with the rules for the arrangement. We broke one.”
“The nothing-more-than-kissing one?” She tilts her head up to meet my gaze, a mischievous smile curling her lips. Below the table she puts her hand on my thigh.
“Hmm, yeah, OK. Two. The kissing one, and also your last one.”
“And what was that?”
“About me not falling in love with you.”
Her grin is coy. “I seem to remember you saying it wouldn’t be a problem. You were very sure of that.” She drums her fingertips on my leg, a reassurance tapped in code.
“I didn’t stand a chance.”