Chapter 19 Anna
ANNA
Luke Fisher just kissed me. Luke. Fisher. Just. Kissed. Me. Let’s try that again. LukeFisherKissedMe. Luke. Freaking. Fisher. Kissed. Me. Me!
Fast or slow—it still made no sense. Did the laws of reality just glitch?
Sure, technically, it was for show, to throw off the mean girls—a little fake-out to make me feel better.
Except it didn’t feel fake. At all.
Maybe he’s just that good of an actor. Yeah, that’s it. He’s so talented that even his fake kisses deserve an award. And now, here I am, unable to stop replaying it in my head.
I’ll let you in on a secret. I’d watched him kiss women on screen. Countless times. And yes, I’d imagined what it might be like, purely out of curiosity. But here’s the truth: reality blew imagination out of the water.
As we drove back, my mind raced. Chief among the emotions was a touch of smugness at the jealousy on the faces of Reagan and Chatterly. Sure, they didn’t know I’d kissed Luke Fisher.
They thought it was some black, curly-haired champagne baron.
Well, they could sit there with their fake smiles and passive-aggressive comments, but little did they know I was the one who’d just locked lips with a bona fide movie star.
I was mid-smirk when Luke’s voice pulled me back.
“You’re a great storyteller,” he said, almost like he’d just realized it himself.
“The way you talk about things—people, places, whatever—it’s like you’ve got this gift of making everything sound alive.
Like, when you were describing the baroness earlier, I could almost see her.
Most people don’t have that. It’s natural for you. ”
A warmth settled in my chest. It didn’t feel like one of those polite, throwaway compliments people give to fill silence.
I needed to say something—anything—to stop replaying that kiss in my head. “Thanks for stepping in back there,” I said. “Every time I run into those women, it’s like I’m sixteen again. Braces, insecurity, the whole awkward package. Ugh, listen to me. You probably have no idea what that’s like.”
Luke laughed, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? I was a total nerd in high school. Scrawny, constantly tripping over my own feet. I was invisible.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he said, grinning. “Then I shot up six inches the summer after graduation, joined the crew team at Brown, and suddenly people started looking at me differently. Still felt like the same dork inside, though.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the corners of his mouth turning up with a sheepish smile.
I raised an eyebrow. Was he saying that to make me feel better? His sincerity seemed real. “Guess we both had our moments, then.”
There was a brief silence before Luke said, “Speaking of the past, who was that Beau guy your old classmate mentioned?”
I smiled wryly. “Let me paint you a picture. Think high school rom-com. He was dripping in money and popularity. Me? I was the nerdy scholarship girl. At some point, he took off my glasses. Metaphorically. I don’t wear glasses.
He realized I didn’t look so ugly after all.
But plot twist. He still ended up with the popular high-society girl.
And now they’re getting married. End of movie. Roll credits. Cue sad trombone.”
Luke held my gaze. “I don’t think I’d watch that movie.”
“Trust me, it wasn’t a blockbuster experience from my end either.”
I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to dredge up the past, but Luke’s kind expression nudged me forward.
“Those girls are the worst. In eighth grade, I got a scholarship to Collegiate. It’s this fancy prep school in New Orleans, and I thought it was my big break.
Before school started, my Aunt Delores gave me some money to buy new clothes, and I found this Jill Stuart dress at the Junior League thrift store.
It had a tiny tear, but she fixed it, and I thought I looked perfect. ”
Luke’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.
“First day of school, I showed up in that dress, thinking I’d nailed it. But the kids there weren’t wearing fancy clothes. They were in jean shorts and T-shirts. One girl was even in pajama bottoms. I stuck out like a sore thumb.” I laughed weakly, trying to downplay it. “And then Reagan happened.”
“Reagan?” Luke murmured.
“She was one of the queen bees. She spotted me, smiled, and said she loved my dress. I believed her for a second.” I swallowed hard, memories choking my throat.
“Then she told me it used to be hers… until she donated it because of the tear. She pointed out the mend on the sleeve and laughed in my face. Everyone laughed.” I forced a smile, trying to shake off the lingering sting.
“It was humiliating. I was wearing her cast-off trash.”
Luke’s jaw tightened. “Kids can be brutal.”
I nodded. “Yeah. After that, I just kept my head down and focused on school. I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to notice me.
Then, in junior year, I started spending more time with Beau.
He was my debate partner. Rich, charming, popular.
Somehow, he noticed me, and for a while, I thought maybe I belonged.
” I sighed. “Now he’s engaged to Reagan. ”
Luke’s voice was gentle. “And seeing her today brought it all back?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s stupid, I know. I’ve moved on, but sometimes, it still feels like I’m that awkward girl in the thrift store dress.”
“It’s not stupid. That kind of thing sticks with you. Anyone who can’t see your value isn’t worth your time.”
His words touched me deeper than I expected, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. Finally, I managed a small “Thanks.”
But then a dangerous thought crept in. What if I didn’t let this moment pass?
What if I put myself first? For once.
The idea alone was terrifying. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I’d never called in sick a day in my life. I didn’t even know the procedure. Just the thought of dialing in made my stomach knot.
But even scarier was the thought that I might put myself out there… and he could turn me down, that this might all be one-sided. A misunderstanding. A moment I’d built up in my head.
I swallowed hard, then forced the words out before I could lose my nerve. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… maybe work can wait. If you want to talk more and maybe hang out tonight.”
Luke turned toward me, and for a fleeting second, hope flared. Was he going to say yes? Maybe lean in and kiss me again? This time for real? My heart pounded so loudly that I was sure he could hear it.
But then his face transformed, his easy charm replaced by a flicker of hesitation. “I have a lot to do.” Gone was the easy warmth and curiosity he had shown before. He sounded cool and distant. “This script isn’t going to read itself, and if I don’t get through it, I’m screwed.”
The rejection hit me like a sucker punch.
The sting of sudden dismissal was so sharp that it momentarily stole my breath.
His abrupt change of demeanor was like a neon sign flashing: That kiss back there in the French Quarter?
Meant nothing at all. And there I was, thinking I could compete with Hollywood starlets.
I squared my shoulders, trying to keep the mood light.
To look on the bright side. I showed a movie star around New Orleans.
How many people could say that? Before the SUV could come to a complete stop, I flung open the door.
“Hey, it’s all good. Good luck with your script,” I chirped, probably too cheerfully.
I was almost at my cottage door when I remembered something and headed back to him.
Luke was still in the SUV, a surprised look on his face as I approached. Marching up to his window, I rummaged through my purse. “Almost forgot to give you this.” I handed over the copy of A Confederacy of Dunces from earlier.
Without waiting for a response, I pivoted and made my grand exit, head high, tears prickling the back of my eyes. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.