He threw on his blinker to get off the freeway.

“Sorry—I’ll turn around now and take you back to your hotel. You probably don’t want—”

She cut in.

“No. I mean, yes, I do want.” She gestured toward the road. “Drive on.”

He grinned at her.

“Really?”

She grinned back. It was good to see her smile, for the first time since she’d gotten that call from her brother.

“Really.”

He pointed at the phone that she still gripped in her hand.

“Great. Then use that, please, to navigate us over to 5.”

She swiped open her phone and jumped to the directions. He felt a surge of adrenaline. They were really going to do this.

“Okay, we’re going to stay on the 101 South for about an hour, then jump over to the 5.”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“Um, Ms. Gardiner? Did I read correctly that you grew up in the Bay Area?”

She looked sideways at him.

“Yes, why?”

“Okay—I was wondering if my memory was mistaken, since no native Northern Californian says ‘the 101’ or ‘the 5,’ for the love of God.”

She laughed out loud, which had been his goal.

“Oh God, you’re right. What a nightmare—L.A. has gotten to me! I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I did that. Usually, I switch back when I’m up here without even thinking about it, but somehow I didn’t this time. How can I repay you for this grievous error?”

“Hmmm.” He pretended to think about this. “I guess that means our In-N-Out dinner will be on you.”

“In-N-Out, what a great idea.” She put her hand on his arm, and he was suddenly thrilled he’d tossed his hoodie in the back seat when they’d gotten into the car. Her warm hand rested on his biceps just for a second. Not long enough for him to flex, but long enough for him to feel the imprint of it after she moved her hand away. “I always used to stop there on the way when I drove home from L.A. I haven’t been there in a long time, actually. Anytime I want fast food I get someone else to get it for me. In a few desperate cases, I’ve ordered delivery and tipped, like, four times as much as the food cost.”

Ben shook his head.

“Stars, they’re just like us,” he said. “Wildly expensive delivery for In-N-Out. Not going to say I haven’t wanted to do that, too, however.”

She sighed.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I swear, it’s not about me being too fancy to get in my own car and get myself food. I just didn’t want to deal with people seeing me at a fast-food place and the pictures the tabloids would run and the terrible headlines. Inevitably it would be something about how fat I’m getting, or how I’m in the depths of despair because of a breakup with someone I was never even dating, and about how I lost this or that role because of my body, et cetera. And I didn’t want to invite that on myself.”

The matter-of-fact way Anna said all of that made him just as mad as what she’d said.

“That’s such fucking bullshit,” Ben said. “I can’t believe you have to deal with that. You’re one of the most beautiful women in America, and you have to sneak around to get a cheeseburger? That’s ridiculous.”

Just the idea of it made him fume.

She patted him on the arm again, but lingered this time.

“Thank you for your outrage. I’m so used to it I barely even think about it anymore.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not true—I think about it all the time, but it’s so normal to me now I don’t get mad about it anymore. It’s just . . . the way it is.”

Ben glared at the road in front of him.

“Well, I fucking hate the way it is, then.” He sounded like a petulant child, but he couldn’t help it. He knew, intellectually, that women got shit on for their bodies all the time, even though he didn’t get it. He fucking loved women’s bodies. The places they were strong, the places they were soft, the way they curved and rippled and moved and sighed when he touched them—he loved them all. How boring was it to want them to all be shaped the same? Where was the fun in that? And especially someone like Anna—why anyone would want her to change anything about herself, he had no idea.

“I fucking hate the way it is, too,” Anna said. And then she laughed, and then he laughed, and they both laughed for the next few miles down the widening freeway, until they each stopped laughing and smiled at each other.

“Okay, so, important question,” Ben said.

The smile faded from Anna’s face.

“Okay,” she said. “What is it?”

Ben swallowed hard.

“Can I trust you with the music? We need good music for a road trip, but I don’t know what kind of nonsense actors listen to, and I can’t have any of that highbrow intellectual crap. And”—he held up a hand to stop her from interrupting—“do not—do not—even say the word ‘podcast’ to me right now, do you hear me? This car is a podcast-free zone!”

She was laughing again, so hard she could barely talk. Good. He hadn’t been able to get the stricken look on her face when she’d gotten off the phone out of his head. His mission since that moment had been to do whatever he had to do to make that look go away. And all he wanted was for her to forget for a few minutes about why they were in this car together, speeding south, and just enjoy the ride.

“First of all,” she said when she recovered, “I’m insulted you even felt like you had to ask that question. Of course you can trust me with the music. Just because I’m an actor doesn’t mean I have no taste.” She stopped and pressed her lips together. “Okay, well . . . I mean, I may not have what many people would consider good musical taste, but that’s not because of my job; it’s more because I’m a teenage girl at heart when it comes to music. Especially music for a road trip.”

He gestured to her phone.

“Come on. Show me what you’ve got.”

She held up a finger.

“Second, you take that podcast thing back right now. The audacity to think that I would suggest a podcast for a late-night road trip, of all things! It’s like you don’t know me at all!”

Ben hid his grin. He didn’t know her at all, but he liked everything he was getting to know.

“I deeply, sincerely apologize. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He shook his head. “No, I know exactly what I was thinking—that the last time I drove to Tahoe with my brother, he insisted on listening to some podcast about the Civil War! Which, yes, fine, it was interesting, but not road-trip material.”