Page 34 of Seeking Stars
Silence broke right after her statement; Liam was quick to add more.
"Hey, how do you feel about sitting on the deck, drinking something alcoholic, and talking?"
Ana's eyes left her phone to stare at him. They were definitely comfortable spending time together, seemingly enjoying each other's company. If she were to risk the thought, she'd say they were growing close. A double-edged sword.
"Sounds great," she said, suppressing the heady blend of butterflies and nerves battling in her stomach. She could not let her mixed up feelings get in the way of their comfort with each other; it would ruin the intimacy and trust needed for the documentary. "What do we have?"
They got everything in place: Scotch for him, gin for her, the camera in place, even blankets in case it got cold. Once they'd gotten comfortable on their now-usual lounge chairs, he asked her about Ely.
"Did she say anything about the picture?"
Ana unlocked her phone and checked her texts. Ely had sent a picture of herself flipping her hair as if she didn't care about Liam's opinion. Ana laughed and showed it to Liam, who chuckled.
"I'm glad to see she's not a fan," he said. "Keeping things real."
"She is a fan, but it's not enough to impress her. She has a very strong sense of authenticity."
The sun was about to touch the horizon, its light casting the world in shades of gold.
"She sounds awesome, from the bits you've said. But why is she going into the fangirling black hole?" He drank from his tumbler and sighed with pleasure.
"That's not what she's doing," Ana argued, putting her phone away. "She's just enjoying the fact that her best friend, me, is being rumored to be on a sexcapade with Liam McMillan."
A cold breeze sliced through them, bringing with it change that stabbed the air. It had nothing to do with the weather.
Her senses sharpened as she stared at him. "I'm sorry, Liam. I get the feeling I said the wrong thing."
He stayed silent, making her nervous. A deep groove marked the space between his eyebrows, his eyes dark. His mouth betrayed a small rictus, stillness throughout his body.
"Actually, I know I said the wrong thing," she tried. The change made her feel unsettled, needing to make things better somehow. "Looking back, there are one or two things that I think may have upset you—"
"Ana, stop. Yes, I'm angry, but not at you. It's bigger than that, and I know it. I'm trying to buy myself some time so I don't lash out."
She could hear the tension in his voice; it traveled through her body and settled like a stone in her belly. Sensing she should give him the time he needed, she leaned back in her chair, shoulders inwards, hands between her thighs. Biting her lips, she made herself wait.
"Okay," he said a minute later. She thought she heard half a snickering laugh. "The problem was that there's a lot of irony in this for me; the conversation about being attractive, talking about relationships, a sexcapade on social media... and the fact we're not having sex."
"Of course we're not having sex," she exclaimed despite herself, more shock than apology in her tone. "We're working. As much as it doesn't feel like it, this is work. I couldn't possibly risk my professional reputation even if— at the end— I do hope we're forming some sort of friendship... but whatever happens, this is work."
He shook his head, his mouth curling down as if he'd had to swallow an unsavory bite. She pursed her lips, holding back the flood of questions and suggestions wanting to come out.
"I know you're recording, but can I be frank?" he finally asked.
"Please. Let's have this conversation. I don't want to talk because of the project, I want to talk to clear the air between us. We may be recording this but it might not make it into the film and that's fine. I'll probably keep like 10% of everything I have and I'm pretty good about cutting out stuff that's just too personal. So let's not let the camera stop this… please. If we can't talk openly, then the whole thing falls apart."
He bent a leg and rested his wrist on the lifted knee, the groove in his eyebrows still present. "Agreed."
"Good." She shifted toward him, and into a position that let her study him more clearly. "So, the irony made you angry."
"Yeah. Why does everyone have an opinion on my personal life? People want to know if I have a girlfriend or ten or, if I'm not seeing anyone, then they ask,why?Well, I want to ask, why does it matter? Why do people have an opinion on it? Is she pretty, or which gender am I really attracted to? Should I break up, should I stay— is she pregnant? No one is good enough for me, but being single is not allowed, either. They think I owe them my life."
Ana sighed. Just spending time with him had brought her into his vortex. She'd experienced so little of this and she already disliked it. He was surrounded by this every day and had been for years; of course it affected him.
He continued. "Whatever I do, people assume I'm having sex five times a day and they want to know. They look into it and make connections as if— as if my life is proprietary. They make it up if they don't find anything. It's like they believe that because I act and I make money for it, my personal life and my feelings belong to them. They feel free to talk about it. My love life and my sex life are for public consumption. Even when I'm having sex zero times a day. When the only person I'm spending time with is here because it's work."
Crap. In her attempt to manage her discomfort, she'd been a part of those people taking ownership of something that should belong to him. Making fun of the idea that people thought they were involved. Like it didn't affect her… but forgot to check if it could be affecting him.
His shoulders were heavy, his hands curled into fists. His frown seemed deeper but his eyes… his eyes were sad. Maybe because, when she'd explained what made this so funny, that people had gotten it so wrong, that she was only here for work— well, she'd made him feel alone.
