Page 9 of Seeking Stars
Ana pressed her lips together for a moment, but was forced to admit the truth. To Ely, at least. "No, you're right. I'd jump to do it. Can you imagine what it would do for my career?"
"Ugh, Ana. I hope it happens."
"We'll see. Now I'll let you go. It's late in Illinois."
They said their goodbyes and Ana tossed her phone on the hotel bed. She lay back, hands loose on her stomach as she stared at the ceiling. Her brain continued to revise her reaction to the shocking day and she didn't fight it; even if the project never came to be and Liam McMillan never became more than an anecdote to her, Ana's drive to make another documentary grew strong again inside of her. Maybe she could still make a film about Hollywood, somehow.
Despite her best judgment, Ana picked up her phone again and perused the pictures Ely had sent her earlier. Maybe she'd find inspiration in staring at the man.
She went back to the photo of him striding out of the ocean. He was undeniably, impossibly good looking. The swim shorts he wore hung low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination, showcasing that V that Ely had expertly referred to as his Adonis belt. Golden skin spoke of endless days under the California sun. Chiseled abs led into an expansive chest, and to broad shoulders that glistened as sunlight reflected off the water still coating them. Her body responded as if she were right there with him, her fingers tingling at the fantasy of touching those shoulders, running her nails down his chest. She bit her bottom lip; the image lighting up her phone was glorious. A wide, winning smile stretched across his perfect face, directed at the person next to him. His hair, mid-range brown in person, looked almost black just out of the water. Ana felt sorry for the guy standing next to Liam; on any given day, she'd say that he was attractive. When Liam stood next to him, no one could pay attention to anyone else.
She scrolled to the next one, a portrait of him at a red carpet event. He wore a suit cut to perfection, highlighting the triangle of his shape, drawing the eyes up to his handsome face.
She blushed. She should stop gawking over pictures of him— both out of pride and professionalism. That should be her new mantra. Yet she couldn't help herself; she moved to the next one.
A professional headshot filled her screen. His expression serious, it held a hint of inner steel in the corner of his lips, a whisper of a challenge in the shape of his eyes. It made it seem like he looked straight at her, daring her to deny that he could get everything he wanted. Her heart skipped a beat— looking at photos turned out to be dangerous.
"Fuck," she uttered, before locking her phone and tossing it away again.
No, she couldn't afford to spend any more time admiring his perfect looks. His looks didn't erase the fact he'd been rude to her. It didn't matter how attractive he was; she would feel only neutrality for him. She needed that, in case the documentary happened. If it didn't, then she'd give herself permission to have mixed feelings about him— appreciating his body but disliking him. Until she had a definitive answer, detachment was the name of the game.
Resolutely ignoring her phone and the pictures within, she opened her laptop and made herself work, instead.
It took Ana fifteen minutes to find her rhythm. She got lost in the process and worked for an hour, but an email from Diana distracted her. Ana let her cursor hover on the notification until it disappeared. What were the protocols? She'd signed with Diana just hours before, and didn't know if she was supposed to be on call for her messages.
She doubted it, but curiosity won. She opened her inbox and clicked on the email.
Hi Ana, it was great meeting you in person earlier today. I'm excited to work with you! The road ahead is long but rewarding.
Mr. Coulton's office messaged me. You can expect a call or a text from Mr. McMillan sometime tonight. I expect you know how important it is that you act professionally and keep everything private. Mr. McMillan is, of course, an important client of ours and Mr. Coulton is one of the higher ups. If this deal goes through—"
Through the corner of her screen, a notification showed up with a text. An unknown number, followed by the intro lines: "Hi Ana, this is Liam McM. I got your num…"
With just a couple of rushed clicks, she opened the text from her computer.
Liam: Hi Ana, this is Liam McM. I got your number from Coulton bc I wanted to talk a bit more with you. That ok?
Liam McMillan had her phone number, had sent her a message, and seemed to randomly choose words to abbreviate when texting.
Oh shit. Oh shit!
And what the hell happened to neutrality? A text from him and her heart sprinted to a gallop. She covered her mouth with her free hand and forced slow breathing into her chest. She gave herself a minute to mentally screech and think about her reply, before deciding to simply answer his question.
Ana: Sure. What would you like to talk about?
The dots appeared on her screen right away, and so did the nerves in her stomach.
Liam: First off, I'm sorry about this morning. I was in a mood bc Coulton was being obtuse and I was a bit of an ass to you. I realize I barely acknowledged you this morn but it had noth to do with you.
Stop the rollercoaster of a day. He apologized? Maybe he wasn't as vain as she’d thought, or maybe he was more self-aware than she'd given him credit for. Maybe she could give him the benefit of the doubt, regardless, for now. In any case, one point for impartiality.
Ana: That's good to know.
Had that been too sharp? She should have dropped the period!
Liam: I was also wondering if you'd be open to meeting with me tmrw morn. I want to talk ab this documentary idea. Maybe you can bring your camera and you can show me how a docu would work? There's a nice place I know that's usually very private.
Ana: Yes, I can do that
