Page 61 of Off Script
Or maybe he wanted to experience the novelty of dating a non-celebrity?
What if I'm a convenient diversion with a short expiration date?
I’m an average girl and he’s a freaking movie star. He could date anyone he wants to… and maybe he realized that he doesn’t want to date me.
Warring between remaining mum and trying to broach the topic of us, I finally gather the courage to talk to Ben while sipping my third mimosa. Liquid courage is a real thing. I release a pent-up sigh and slide my eyes to my taciturn seatmate. “Everything okay? You’re awfully quiet.”
“Huh? What?” He jolts, turning towards me quickly, like he’s surprised to see me sitting beside him. Something has his attention, but it obviously isn’t me. Shaking his head, he mutters, “Sorry. I’m lost in thought. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Care to share? You don’t seem like yourself today. You’re not regretting—” I move my hand towards his, needing some sort of physical connection to him, but my hand freezes and falls back to my lap when the flight attendant suddenly appears at our side, interrupting me.
“Your seatbelts should remain fastened for the duration of the flight because we’re beginning our descent into LAX. The captain said that we’ll be landing in twenty minutes.” With a smile, the pretty flight attendant traverses the small aircraft and buckles into her own seat. While she’s a good fifteen feet away, her seat faces ours, allowing us limited privacy. There's a privacy screen that she could pull, but for whatever reason, she doesn't.
Ben leans his head my way. “I need to talk to you about something important, but I’d rather do it when we're alone. Okay?”
My discomfort mounting, I nod. The serious look on his face coupled with the urgent tone of his voice has me gnawing the inside of my cheek as I try to calm my increasing panic. When someone cryptically declares that they need to talk to you about something important, it’s never to deliver good news.
Is he breaking up with me already?
Unable to concentrate due to the incessant chatter in my brain, I idly thumb through a magazine hoping that the mindless gossip will distract me. It doesn’t work. I can’t focus on anything except for the intrusive, negative thoughts that continue to assault me. I slug down the last of my mimosa. Alcohol helps me block out my confusion for about ten minutes until I hear Ben curse softly next to me.
“What is it?” I ask, my brows furrowed in concern.
He rubs his fingers down his face. “My publicist just texted, warning me that there are paparazzi swarming LAX because of all the holiday travelers. They’re staking out all the airport exits.”
“Oh-kay,” I say slowly, drawing out the word as I’m unsure what the big deal is. Ben’s had paparazzi follow him plenty of times before, so I don’t understand why he’s so concerned now. “It’s annoying, but isn’t that to be expected? It comes with the territory, right?”
“There’s a lot at stake for me professionally right now.” He turns towards me, dropping his voice. “Overnight, photos and stories broke about our date on Tuesday. All the tabloids have is unconfirmed speculation, but my movie studio isn’t happy. My team disseminated photos of me with my parents at Thanksgiving to refute the story, but I absolutely cannot be seen getting off the plane with you. That would add fuel to the fire and legitimize the rumors.”
His words sting and I stiffen upon hearing them.What would be so terrible if Ben was linked to me?
As if he’s reading my mind, he answers my question. “It’s to protect both of us. If the press found out your identity, and they would, they’d harass you nonstop. Plus, I told the studios that I’m not seeing anyone.” He pauses before explaining, “It was before we’d met. Anyway, they don’t want anything blowing up in my private life so close to the movie’s premiere. There's more to it than that, but it's complicated. I’ll explain everything in depth later.”
“Got it.” Looking out the window so that I don’t have to watch Ben any longer, I draw my lower lip between my teeth. It seems so unfair that the movie studios can dictate the personal aspects of Ben’s life.
“Let me go speak to the flight attendant to see what we should do.” Unclipping his seat belt, Ben stalks across the small plane. I can’t hear their words, but whatever she tells him doesn’t please him.
Sliding back into his spot, he mutters, “Fuck.” Ben rubs his forehead, obviously frustrated. “Apparently the private wing of LAX doesn’t have any gates available. We’re going to have to deplane at a public gate. Airport security will meet us there. It’ll be better if we separate upon landing. Let me exit the plane first. The paparazzi and crowds will follow me, and you can deplane a few minutes later. Do you have a hat or anything you can wear?”
“Yes, I have something I can pull on in my bag.”
“This isn’t how I wanted our trip to end, but it’s for the best,” Ben says, shooting me a pained smile.
Not wanting to be a burden or show Ben how insecure I’m feeling, I agree to his plan without any fuss. “Sure, that makes sense. I'll catch a cab back to my condo.”
For the last few minutes of the flight, I stare out the window. When we land, Ben excuses himself to explain our staggered departure plan to the flight attendant. While he’s gone, his phone, sitting in Ben’s abandoned seat, lights up from an incoming text message.
PIPSQUEAK
What time are you picking me up for dinner tonight, love?
I didn’t intend to snoop, but his phone is right next to me. How could I miss it? My heart sinks as the words on the screen vanish back to black.
Who is Pipsqueak?
Why do they have dinner plans tonight?
And why does she call himlove?
