Chapter 26 #2
Anna studied me for a beat, her eyes searching mine. I could feel her seeing through the cracks, and it was unsettling in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I cleared my throat. “Okay, hypothetical, if you could have any superpower, what would it be?”
She smiled, as if she understood that I needed to move on, to stop talking about my pain. “The power to stop time. What about you?”
“Teleportation,” I answered immediately. “No more red-eye flights. No paparazzi waiting at the airport. Now, tell me something about you that I don’t know.”
“I can hula hoop for hours.”
I looked at her, surprised. “Really? That’s pretty impressive.”
She chuckled, nudging me with her elbow. “Your turn.”
“I’m a pretty decent juggler.”
"Really?" Her eyebrows shot up. "You've got to show me!"
"I don't know. It's been a while since I've juggled."
"Oh, come on. 'Pretty decent' jugglers don't just lose the magic."
"The magic fades without practice."
She stood up and looked around the bathroom with exaggerated determination. "Well then, let's see how much you've got left." She opened a drawer and started rummaging. "Aha!"
Out came a fancy bar of soap, a small decorative shell, and a toothbrush still in its packaging.
She handed them to me with a teasing smile, her eyes glinting with challenge. "Stand up and show me what you've got, hotshot."
I hesitated. “No promises. I haven’t done this in years.” I tried to sound casual while inwardly bracing myself for disaster. I weighed the soap, shell, and toothbrush in my hands, feeling like I was about to audition for the world’s weirdest talent show.
I managed to get a few rotations going, and I thought I could pull it off.
But the bar of soap was slippery, and the toothbrush felt weirdly off balance, as if it were defying the laws of physics to mess with me.
My rhythm faltered. I lunged backward, desperately trying to catch the rogue toothbrush as it flew out of sync.
I lunged backward, arms windmilling like a cartoon character, and slammed into the sleek glass shower enclosure. My hand shot out to catch myself, only to find a touch-sensitive control panel.
The rain showerhead erupted above me.
"No, no, no—" I slapped at the panel. Side jets fired horizontally like I was in a car wash. A wall-mounted waterfall feature joined the party, drenching me from a new and completely unnecessary angle.
"Luke, move!" Anna called out, laughing so hard she could barely stand.
She stepped into the enclosure to help, which would've been heroic if she hadn't immediately hit a button that activated the steam feature. Thick mist engulfed us both.
"Wait, maybe this one?" She pressed something else.
A sudden blast of icy water erupted from the foot-massage jets at ground level, hitting us like we'd personally wronged them.
"THAT'S NOT HELPING!" I yelled, my voice echoing off the tile like I was in a cave.
We were both soaked, fumbling blind in the steam, water attacking us from every possible direction. Anna's shoulders shook with laughter as she groped for the panel. "There's got to be an off switch—"
"You'd think!"
Finally—finally—she found the central "OFF" button.
We stood there, dripping and gasping. Water pooled at our feet. My hair was plastered to my forehead. Anna looked like she'd just survived a shipwreck.
We looked at each other.
And completely lost it.
"Where—" I gasped between laughs, flinging open cabinet doors. "Where in the world are the towels? How are there no towels in this bathroom? Why does Topher have an ottoman but no towels?"
Anna tried to wring out her shirt. "Maybe the ottoman is the towel?"
"That's not how furniture works!"
I was freezing now, teeth starting to chatter. I desperately looked around for the climate controls. My eyes landed on the expansive mirror above the sink, backlit by these subtle, fancy embedded lights.
Voice-activated. Had to be.
"Mirror," I commanded, "show controls."
The mirror rippled.
Then it became a video call screen.
And there was Topher. In a suit. In what looked like a very serious boardroom full of very serious people.
His eyes went wide. "Luke? Anna?" He took in our drowned-rat appearances. "Why are you calling me from my guest bathroom? And why do you both look like you fell in a pool?"
I couldn't even speak. I was laughing too hard. "Wrong... button..."
Anna doubled over. "We were just... we were trying to..." She wiped tears from her eyes. "Your fancy mirror!"
Someone in the background of Topher's call leaned into frame, clearly confused.
Topher held up a finger—one moment—and turned back to us with a smirk.
"You know, I've taken a lot of weird calls in my career, but this is a first. Not gonna lie, Luke, this is exactly the kind of chaos I expect from you. "
"Happy to deliver," I managed.
Anna waved at the screen. "Enjoy your meeting!"
"Oh, I will." His grin widened. "Try not to destroy anything else."
The screen went dark.
There was a knock at the door. "Tornado warning's over," Tom called through. "You're free to leave the bathroom."
I glanced at Anna. Damp hair clinging to her face, cheeks flushed, eyes still sparkling with laughter. She looked like she'd just emerged from some beautiful disaster, radiant and completely unaware of how hard she was making this for me.
I looked away fast, clearing my throat.
We squelched our way out into the hallway, leaving a trail of water like a crime scene. Anna turned to me, that small, devastating smile playing at her lips. "Well. That was an adventure."
Adventure. Sure. Let's call it that.
"Yeah," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Not exactly a relaxing evening."
She laughed—soft, genuine—and it hit me square in the chest. I should've been relieved the storm had passed. Instead, all I could think about was how close we'd been in that bathroom. How easily she'd let me in. How thoroughly I was falling for her, whether I was ready for it or not.
"Definitely one for the books," I said. "Thanks for making it memorable."
"Anytime." Her grin turned playful. "Just maybe no more touch screens."
"Deal."
I walked her to her bedroom door, hyperaware of the silence, of how little space there was between us.
"Goodnight, Anna," I said quietly.
She smiled, one hand on the doorknob. "Night, Jacques."
There was a beat. Just long enough for me to wonder if she'd say something else, if I should say something else.
But then she slipped inside, and the door clicked shut.
I stood there like an idiot for a second before heading to my own room. I closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling hard.
I wasn't thinking about call sheets or upcoming press tours. I wasn't performing for anyone.
Instead, I was replaying her laughter, the way her eyes lit up even in the middle of a tornado scare. It struck me that, despite the absurdity of the night, I felt more alive than I had in months. Maybe longer.
I changed into dry clothes. The room’s luxurious bedding called to me.
As I sank into the mattress, my thoughts drifted to Anna’s wit, her resilience, and her ability to turn even the most mundane moment into something memorable.
I wondered if she felt the same calm I did now, finally safe and dry after the storm.
The faint hum of the generator lulled me to sleep. My dreams weren’t filled with lines to memorize or paparazzi flashing in my face. Instead, they were scattered with laughter, storm-lit skies, and Anna’s sweet voice.
I woke the next morning to a pounding at the door.
The housekeeper’s voice trembled with urgency. “Mr. Luke, Mr. Luke,” she yelled. “There’s been an accident. Where is Ms. Amato?”