Page 37 of Keep It

“As is right,” I nod around another bite. I concentrate on not letting the melted chocolate run down my palm. I look up to see Danny staring right at me.

I lick my lips, heat flushing across my body.

Who knew crépes were an aphrodisiac?

Turning away I say, “Let’s go this way.” I march ahead, scoffing my crépe down so we can move past whatever is flowing between us.

Chapter 16

DANNY

I didn’t expect to find Anya when I left the hotel this morning but thank god I did. After she gave me the tongue lashing I rightfully deserved, things have been awkward between us. I don’t know when things changed, but the idea of her disappointment in me suddenly became a strong motivator.

McBride is still getting under my skin, but he manages to do it in a way that no one else can notice. It will just be a sly comment under his breath between takes that sends my blood pressure rising. And then I snap at him and end up looking like the bad guy.

I feel like I’m drowning under the whole thing. Relentlessly being prodded and poked and stared at. Watched with weary glances waiting for the inevitable breakdown. It’s all crushing. If I’m set up to fail, what’s the point in trying?

When I woke up in my hotel this morning, paid for by production and picked out by my father, I felt the walls close in. I was itching for en excuse to leave, to get out before the door sealed me in forever, when I had a text.

Anya: Everything okay?

I was stunned. Everything was very much not okay but how did she know that? Was she messaging me out of duty or was she genuinely asking? I had to know.

Me: Why are you texting me?

I had stared at the phone in my hand, willing it to buzz with her reply. The longer I waited, the more I realized how ridiculous I was being. She was just doing her job, she didn’t actually want to have contact with me outside of it. Refusing to wallow in my gilded cage, I left the hotel intent on taking my mind off the job and the girl.

Which didn’t work. In her dark red dress and sipping a coffee, Anya looked like a dream. A dream my mind crafted to distract from the empty feeling in my chest. I felt like rubbing my eyes just to be sure she was really there. I couldn’t resist talking to her, seeing her eyes light up with challenge as I needled her.

I could have left her alone. Her words were asking me to but her eyes…her eyes wanted me to stay. Sharing playful banter with her has been the highlight of this whole ordeal. I couldn’t walk away from her even if I tried.

Now, as I watch her out of the corner of my eye as we wander through the streets, I can’t help but be thrilled that she listened to me.

“Where shall we go now?” she asks me, a far cry from her reluctance to be seen with me earlier.

I smile. This whole day I’ve felt lighter than I have in months. Joking around and playing with Anya —I feel like a different person.

“Let’s go get a drink,” I say. The sun is already setting over the Seine but I don’t want the day to end. The thought of sitting in a restaurant makes my shoulders hunch. I think we’ve been inconspicuous so far, constantly on the move. I don’t particularly want to sit so openly where anyone can see me, but the thought of leaving Anya now is out of the question.

“I have an idea,” Anya says, taking my arm. I love when she touches me like this. Guiding me without thinking. She can take me anywhere and I’ll follow.

She pulls into a small store and leads me straight to the wine section. “Red or white?”

She crouches down to read the bottles on the bottom shelf, her crimson dress billowing around her. “Red,” I say, dazed.

Anya grabs a bottle from the shelf and then wanders across the aisles grabbing a baguette and a block of cheese. I take them all from her, cradling them in my arms precariously. As we make our way to the check out, we pass the stationary aisle. Out of the corner of my eye I spot a stack of small blue notebooks, small enough to fit in my back pocket. Anya walks ahead oblivious as my feet halt on the linoleum. Shifting the groceries in my arms, I quickly grab a book off the stack and follow her to the cashier.

I unload our stuff onto the conveyor belt, hiding the notebook under the cheese. Anya goes to pull out her purse, but I stop her with a hand on hers. No way am I letting her pay.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. She puts the food in the canvas bag on her shoulder and I quickly put the notebook in my pocket.

Anya leads me through winding alleyways until we cross a busy street. We don’t turn left or right, instead, Anya finds an opening in the tall brick wall that lines the river. I follow her down uneven steps until we reach the path that wanders along the length of the Seine. The sun is starting to set over the horizon, bathing the water in flecks of gold. Small crowds of people linger along the cobblestones, sharing glasses of wine and perched on picnic blankets. No one looks up as we pass. It’s perfect.

Anya finds a spot against the wall. She plops down and extends her long legs in front of her. The hem of her dress brushes the tops of her thighs and my mouth goes dry. I settle down next to her. I can’t keep myself from sitting close, pressing my denim clad thigh against her bare one.

She gestures for the bag I have with the wine and snacks. She takes the wine bottle as I peel off a chunk of baguette. The soft bread melts in my mouth.

Anya swears. “You don’t have a corkscrew do you?”

---