Fame: Makes a Man Think Things Over

by Lady of Reylo

"I bet you, Ben Solo, that I could drive you to any neighborhood outside the city and you could walk up and down the street in a costume and not be recognized. I bet no one would know who the hell you are. I bet you could go full Kylo Ren and no one would even know it was you." "My security team would kill me themselves," he mused...

I hadn't been living in my new building long when I realized that one of the actors from The Star One franchise was also living there.

Ben Solo was on to other projects already, having filmed the third and final movie of the sequel trilogy, but he had achieved an amazing level of fame in the six years he had been filming. So much so that he had trouble going out without being recognized. The price of fame, I suppose.

I was nobody, of course, in comparison. I just happened to have the cash to grab a place in the building after borrowing some funds from my grandpa, who wanted me out of my shitty little apartment in a rough neighborhood. He thought I would be able to write better romance novels in a good location. He said he'd have less to worry about. That was fine by me.

However, I never considered the possibility that a famous person lived in the penthouse upstairs.

I ran into Ben Solo, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, when I couldn't reach my mailbox. For some reason, whoever designed the mail system put a row of boxes up a little too high for the likes of me. Ben was sorting through his mail with a furrowed brow, while I was struggling to pull mine out of the slot.

"Need a hand?" he asked in his familiar deep voice—the voice that had lots of women falling all over themselves. He was utterly drool-worthy.

"Yes, thank you," I said, maybe a little breathlessly. I watched him reach a long arm up and pull my mail out with one giant hand.

"Here you go," he said, nodding at me.

I took it and smiled. "Thank you," I said.

"My pleasure." He smiled back.

I had to blink a couple of times. Ben Solo was gorgeous when he smiled. His dimples showed and his whole face lit up.

He nodded at me and walked toward the elevator.

I bit down on the urge to turn and watch him walk. I figured it wouldn't do to swoon at Ben Solo's feet. I was just going to pretend I didn't know who the hell he was. Maybe he would appreciate that for a change.

The movie Ben Solo starred in had a very active fan base, for good or ill. People dressed up like the characters, attended Star One conventions, and generally had a good time discussing the history and intricacies of the storylines. There were nine films total in the franchise; the latest three movies introduced a new set of characters and adventures. Ben Solo played a masked villain, who doffs his mask to show his conflicted, sexy-but-problematic character. Kylo Ren was a supposed bad guy with just enough goodness in him peeking out to make women—and some men—sigh and hope for his redemption. Ben Solo was a gifted actor who portrayed the complexity of Kylo Ren beyond anything the franchise had ever seen.

However, the films had ended in an unsatisfactory way for many fans, with Kylo Ren redeemed but dead. It was awful. Ben Solo said little about the ending in interviews. He was always discreet and guarded. Gossip sites reported that he would not return to the franchise. Rumor deep in the rabbit hole of the Internet suggested that Ben Solo had been dissatisfied with the ending of the sequel as well. He was quite simply finished with Kylo Ren.

The franchise had given him fame, but it would not limit him. His newly minted fame, however, might…

The next morning, I caught Ben Solo sneaking into The Just Cup, an espresso place near our building. He strode up to the long counter and murmured an order to the barista. She giggled and flirted with him. He must be used to women falling all over themselves since the release of the films.

He got his coffee, turned away from the counter, and glanced around. His eyes met mine. He nodded at me and walked over to where I was sitting with my laptop open. He looked so fucking handsome that I thought I would die. I will not fangirl. I will not fangirl. I will not…

"Did you get your mail today?" he asked.

I swallowed. "Yes, I managed. I might need a permanent step ladder in front of the boxes, though."

He smiled that famous smile again—the one that made fans gasp. I sucked my own gasp back before it emerged. "You should ask," he said.

"I doubt that the post office supplies such things."

"Probably not... I'm Ben," he said, sticking out his hand.

"Rey," I said, taking it with a small shiver. I will not fangirl. I will not.

"You must be new to the building," he said. "Welcome."

"Thank you," I said. "I am."

He stood for another beat and we stared at each other.

"Well," he said, nodding his head up and down, glancing around the room. "Well."

"Um, yeah," I said. "Thanks for helping me."

"Sure," he said. "I guess I have to get going before…" He waved his hand.

"Yeah, might get mobbed. I get it."

He nodded again. "Right. I… nice to see you. Bye."

"Bye," I said.

It was a strange encounter, like he didn't know what to do with himself. Like he was a fish out of water. He hadn't been famous at first. It had slowly ramped up in the last two years and suddenly he was a hot commodity. So hot that he couldn't go places without causing a scene. Having bodyguards only made it worse as far as I could tell. He left the coffee shop with a dude trailing him like a puppy. Ben quickly hopped into the back of a black SUV and the guard closed the door. The SUV pulled away from the curb.

A few days after our encounter at The Just Cup, Ben and I met in the elevator, him with a key to the top floor of the building, me waiting for the sixth. We smiled at each other briefly.

I tapped a nail against the railing in the elevator.

We both turned and tried to speak at the same time.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Sorry, please go on…" he said.

"I was just going to say that it's almost Halloween, isn't it?" I replied.

"Yes," he said. "It is. Not my favorite holiday."

"Really? Why?" I inquired. The elevator went up to the fourth floor and shuddered for a second. It didn't stop, though.

"All the kids in the building want to hit me."

"They are angry at Kylo Ren?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "It's a bit … weird."

The elevator opened onto the sixth floor. I held the panel button down to keep the door open. "My floor," I said.

"Ah, okay, okay. See you later." He fished out his phone.

I stopped for a second, finger still pressed on the open button. "Do you have some place to go on Halloween? Do you hand out candy or go trick or treating?"

He looked up. "No," he said. "I can't do anything like that anymore. It's way too hard."

"I bet you could do it," I said.

"Huh," he said, "Doubt it. Not without getting in trouble."

The elevator buzzed at me in protest.

"Shit," I said. "Hey, I'm in 603. Drop by and we can talk about it. I bet if you dressed up, you could be completely anonymous."

His brows raised. "Um," he said. His phone dinged.

I let the door go and got out. I heard a faint "okay" come from the elevator as it closed behind me.

Five minutes later, there was a knock on my door. I opened it. Ben Solo stood in my doorway.

"What do you mean, anonymous?"

Ben Solo was tall and he was big—a lot bigger than he looked onscreen. Internet sites said he was six foot three. I believed it as my eyes traveled up his large, muscular body encased in a t-shirt and jeans. I invited him into my apartment. He looked like a massive dark beast inside my little sunny world. He glanced around with interest at the colorful rag rugs and the accent wall that I just finished painting bright lemon. The candles and incense display on the coffee table emitted a spicy scent. The deep orange curtains added a warmth to the light as it passed through the window.

Big Dude crouched on my sectional, acting like he wanted to run out the door. He seemed quite ill at ease.

"Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?"

Ben looked at me like he hadn't seen me before. "Sure."

"Which one?" I asked.

He wrung his large hands and stopped himself. "I would take coffee if you have it. Black, please."

I headed into the kitchen behind the marbled island. Ben got up and followed me. He perched on a tall stool and watched me make coffee.

"Have you ever used a French press?" he asked. "I heard that's good coffee."

"Nope," I said. "I am used to the boring Mr. Coffee kind."

"Yeah. Me, too. My ex was all about the French press and other high-end stuff. But she didn't drink it often and I didn't see any reason to get one…" He trailed off.

I put a cup in front of him. The mug said "Romance Writers of America" on it.

He read it, silently, his famous full lips moving slightly. "You are a writer?"

"Yes," I said. "Of romances. Probably not your thing."

Ben shrugged. "Probably not."

He watched me pour the coffee into his cup and mine. I sat next to him on another tall stool and reached out to grab my cup.

"Wait. What does yours say?" He turned my mug around with long fingers. His hand was huge on the cup. "Writers make great lovers. They imagine it all."

He smiled at that. "I want to ask about Halloween, but I am fascinated by these mugs."

"Why are you fascinated?"

"I've never met anyone who would admit they like romance novels." He sat back and eyed me.

"Why wouldn't they admit to it? Romances have a huge readership," I stated.

"Well, it's kind of… you know." He twirled his coffee cup around. "I'm trying not to be rude here. I'm sure there is … I don't know … some redeeming value somewhere."

"Why, Ben Solo," I teased. "Don't tell me you a snob."

He looked a little stricken. "No, well, I don't think so. I don't presume… It's not my place to judge what people like. But don't you think…? I mean, I never met anyone…. I'm not sure." He stopped.

I started to laugh.

"I'm just babbling at this point," he said and ducked his head to take a sip of coffee. "Well, that went down a strange path. What was the question?"

"I was wondering why it was so surprising that I write romance novels. Then suddenly you're trying not to offend me somehow. Why don't you just say it instead of couching all your statements in qualifiers?"

Ben pressed his lips together. "I don't know you. And shit ends up in the press. I can't really… I guess I shouldn't be here." He stood.

"Oh, sit down, for fuck's sake," I said. "I'm not the press or some crazy fan ready to out you on the topic of romance novels."

Ben stared at me for a few seconds. He slowly plopped his butt back down. "Hooo-kay," he said. "Fine. My publicist will shit if I say something wrong."

"A prisoner of your own fame," I said.

He nodded. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"So that's why you might be interested in some anonymous trick or treating?"

Ben stroked his short beard absently. "It is tempting, but I don't think it would work. I'm so well-known these days." He held up a hand. "I'm not trying to boast or anything. I am not that happy about it. I feel like I've lost more than I've gained."

"I get it—or well, I don't. But I can imagine it," I said.

"Which is what your mug says about being a writer… except it's talking about sex. I guess." He turned the mug around again and frowned at the statement.

"Yes," I said, drily. "I suppose it is about sex."

"Hmmm," he said. "Sex is good. I like sex… Uh… never mind that. So, what's the plan for Halloween?"

I got stuck on the sex comment for a second… "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Plan for Halloween?"

I cleared my throat. "Oh, right. I bet you, Mr. Solo, that I could drive you to any neighborhood outside the city and you could walk up and down the street in a costume and not be recognized. I bet no one would know who the hell you are."

He looked interested but skeptical. "I am very tall. Last time I tried a disguise, people waved and said, 'Hi, Ben, nice hat.' They were not fooled."

I met his eyes. "A hat isn't enough. You need a full-on outfit. You know what? I bet you could go full Kylo Ren and no one would even know it was you."

"No, you are so wrong. I would be mobbed. I told you, kids try to hit me, and they are just the right size to do some serious damage to my … business." Ben pointed down to his lap.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. He was so earnest.

"No one would expect it from you," I countered. "They would never believe that you would dare to go out and walk around."

"That outfit is damned uncomfortable."

"Okay, fine. But no one would know you were Ben Solo under there."

"My security team would kill me themselves," he mused, smiling. "Almost worth it to see the faces when people find out it's actually me."

I hid a smile. Maybe this brooding cutie pie wasn't as immune to the perks of fame as he thought he was.

On Halloween night, I was preparing to leave for a small gathering of friends. It was a costume party, of course. My friend, Gwennie, a real Star One nut, already claimed Kira of Jakku, Kylo Ren's love interest, but I didn't begrudge her that role, since she adored the films so much. I dressed as Shield Maiden Eowyn from Lord of the Rings with a long dusky blue gown, a fake sword and scabbard strapped to my hips, and a gold circlet set in my hair. I didn't feel like wearing a long blonde wig, so I added some wave to my own brown hair for fun. I was fairly pleased with the look, though I wished I could wear armor for the night, since Eowyn was a mighty warrior.

I opened my door just in time to see a huge Kylo Ren with fist raised, ready to knock. I took a step back and almost fell. The apparition reached out quickly and steadied me with a black-gloved hand.

"Oops," it intoned in its modulated helmet voice. I thought that was a bit out of character.

"Uh, hi," I squeaked, staring at the monster in front of me.

It pulled off its helmet. Ben's head emerged. "Hi," he said. "Where are we going trick or treating? My car is in the garage. I can drive us there."

"Well…" I said.

"You look nice," he interrupted. "A warrior princess?"

"Thank you. Trick or treating. Sure," I said, trying to figure out what to do with this giant individual in front of me. I did not recall making any firm plans with him for Halloween. He had gotten a text message while finishing his coffee and left my apartment immediately after with a quick nod and thanks.

What to do with Ben Solo… Take him to Gwennie's party? Bad idea, the party had people who might mob him. Especially Gwennie herself. She was just like kind of nuts.

Take him to a neighborhood? A better idea, for sure. "Okay," I said. "Let's go to a neighborhood and do some walking around."

"Sure," he agreed. He took a step back to let me exit.

"Be right back," I said. "Come on in for a second."

And then Kylo Fucking Ren stood in my apartment like a docile kitten, while I made a desperate, whispered phone call from my bedroom saying I was going to be late.

"What's going on?" Gwennie asked over the music in the background.

"Can't explain now. I have to go. Everything is all right. Later." I hung up on her and turned the phone to silent.

I headed back out to the living room. "I'm going to see if my grandfather is around. He lives in a neighborhood with a lot of kids and usually hands out candy. Would you like to meet him and walk around Mott Park? It's about a half hour north of here."

"That sounds good," he said.

My grandfather was indeed home. I told him that I was bringing a friend to meet him. He sounded very intrigued and made all kinds of speculative humming noises.

After I hung up, I said to Ben, "Okay, listen, we are not going to tell him who you are. I don't think he will recognize you at all."

Ben raised his eyebrows at me. "You don't think so? Has he seen the movies?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"I have to take off this helmet to meet him, so I guess we'll see."

In the elevator on the way to the garage, Ben pulled off a black glove and pushed his long hair back out of his face. He bounced on his heels. "Hey, you know, I am kind of geeked about this whole thing."

I couldn't help but smile. He was like a kid excited to go trick or treating.

"This is a great experiment. I want to see who recognizes me and who doesn't. It's like a sociology project."

When we got off the elevator, Ben led the way to a sleek black Maserati Levante. I gawked quietly for a moment and sucked in a breath.

Ben noticed my reaction. "I know, right? Couldn't help myself. I always wanted one, even when I was a kid."

"I can hardly fault you for treating yourself."

"Courtesy of The Star One," he intoned in a deep voice.

Ben opened the passenger door to let me slide into the rich interior. Inside, the car was like a small spaceship with every kind of technological amenity. It smelled like luxury itself, and I sniffed appreciatively. Ben grunted a little, folding himself into the driver's seat.

"Costume biting ya?" I asked.

"Yeah, not the most comfortable for … uh … men," he said. "Pardon me. Must rearrange." He shifted around in the seat. I looked away from him messing with his own testicles. Ben Solo testicles. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. It seemed a bit warm in the car suddenly.

Mercifully, Ben stopped adjusting, started up the car, and drove out of the garage onto the street. I gave him directions to Mott Park.

When we arrived, we parked Ben's conspicuous car in my grandfather's driveway. I hoped it wouldn't attract too much attention. Lots of houses on the block had their lights on, the universal signal for handing out candy. A few families started to emerge and walk up and down the sidewalk.

My grandfather stood in the doorway under his own porch light. When he saw us, he opened the screen door. Ben tucked his helmet under his arm and walked with me up to the house.

"Hello, hello," Papa said. "Happy Halloween, friends. Welcome!"

We stepped over the threshold and walked past a chair and bowl of candy in the foyer. My grandpa led us into the living room.

"Papa," I said. "This is Ben Solo."

"Good to meet you, young fella. Please have a seat. Can I get you two something to drink or eat?" Papa gave me a kiss on the cheek. "You look lovely, Rey."

"Thanks, Papa. Ben, you want something?"

Ben declined and tried to get comfortable sitting on a too-small chair. His testicles might have been bothering him again. He shifted around.

"What brings you my way? Are you two heading to a party around here?"

Ben and I exchanged glances. We had no story prepared.

Ben said, "Just out for some Halloween spirit. Our building has a party, but it's more for children and…" He paused.

"I think it's over by now," I added.

"Ah," my grandfather said. "Is that how you know each other?"

"Yes," Ben said. "We are neighbors."

"That's nice. I'm so happy you found each other." Papa paused. "It's about time for some great-grandchildren. Then you two can bring them over to Papa's for some trick or treating."

I was the one who had to shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Now, Papa," I admonished.

He interrupted me. "No, no. I'm just glad you're happy and you brought your young man to meet me."

Ben had a huge grin on his face. I sent him a repressive glare, but he just laughed. "I'm so glad to meet you, Mr. uh…Jackson?"

"Call me Ken," Papa said. "Kenobi Jackson."

"Papa, Ben's not…" I started.

The doorbell rang and kids shouted "trick or treat" from the porch. Papa got up and answered the door.

"I'm so sorry," I said to Ben. "I didn't realize he would think we were together."

Ben shrugged and shifted around once again. "It's okay. It's an obvious conclusion."

I heard my grandfather finishing up and closing the door.

I whispered, "I was right, though. He doesn't know who you are."

Ben gave me a thumbs up as Papa came back into the room.

"Ben," he said, "Is that get-up you're wearing the real thing?"

Ben raised his eyebrows at my grandfather. He leaned forward a little. "Pardon?"

Papa pointed at Ben's costume. "That outfit. Is it the real one? Did Disney let you keep it after you finished the third movie?"

"Papa, what are you talking about?"

Papa gave me an incredulous look. "Kylo Ren, girl. This is Ben Solo. He played Kylo Ren in The Star One. Don't you know who he is?"

"Shit," I said. "I thought you wouldn't know."

The doorbell rang again. Papa got up to answer it. On his way out, he said, "I saw the movies, Rey. I may be old, but I'm not completely out of touch with popular culture." He answered the door again and handed out candy.

"So much for that theory," Ben said.

"At least he's not mobbing you," I said. "He's taking it in stride, as if I bring home celebrities every damn day."

"Maybe you do," Ben said, with a grin. "Lots of celebrity boyfriends."

I rolled my eyes. "No, sir. I don't know any celebrities." I paused. "Other than you."

He shrugged. "I don't count." He looked down at the floor.

I didn't know exactly what that meant, but I reached out and touched his arm. "Hey, you count to me," I said.

Ben just gazed at me as my grandfather walked back in. We broke eye contact when Papa stood next to my chair.

"Well, this is getting ridiculous," Papa said. "I'm going to have to sit by the door. The kids are coming out in droves."

"Let's walk around a bit outside," Ben said. He seemed eager to see what was happening on the street.

Papa looked back and forth between the two of us. "What are you two doing? Isn't it unsafe for a famous guy to go out without some security people? It's one thing to come over and sit in my house. Quite another to go bopping around out there."

I told Papa what we were doing.

"So, I'm an experiment, huh? Well, how's that working for you?"

"Not that great," Ben said. "I'm sorry, sir. We didn't mean to use you that way."

"Yeah, we did," I countered. "Papa, Ben feels so caged by all this, I thought it might help him to be around people who wouldn't know him."

"I know him," Papa stated. "But that's okay. I don't really care what you do for a living as long as you have a good job and can take care of my Rey. That's all I ask."

"I can do that," Ben said, solemnly. He and Papa shook hands.

I just stood there staring at the two of them. They seemed to have a moment of silent understanding, which I was not privy to.

Fine.

"All right," I said. "Put your mask on and let's walk around."

We said goodbye to Papa and offered to stop back by after our walk.

"Helmet looks good, there, Ben," Papa called when we got off the porch.

Ben raised a gloved hand and waved.

"Where are our bags for candy? No trick or treating?" Ben teased in this modulated voice when we got to the sidewalk.

"You are a little old for trick or treating," I said. "And I don't have any kids to bring with us. Do you?"

He shook his helmeted head. "Not so far."

"Well, neither of us can manufacture children right now, so let's just walk around."

More kids emerged from houses and shouts of "trick or treat" rang out as doorbells were rung.

Ben and I walked up and down, people-watching. He pointed across the street to where an entire family was dressed in Star One regalia. They all had lightsabers.

"I forgot mine," Ben said in his modulated voice. "Shit."

I started laughing. "Your voice thing makes your statements kind of funny. Imagine Kylo Ren saying 'shit' and 'oops.'"

"Haha…ha…," he said, sounding mechanical. "I'm stuck in this helmet and you're laughing."

"Only because you have the Kylo Ren voice, but the content is so bizarre."

"Show me, grandfather, and I will finish what you started." Ben said, suddenly. It sounded exactly like the movie. Exactly. I stared into the mask. I was pretty sure Ben was gone and I was looking at Kylo Ren.

He said nothing more. He walked away from me with his famous stride—no mistaking the slight pigeon-toe on his left side.

Some of the kids started to notice Ben and ran up to exclaim about his costume. One little girl tried to hit him with a lightsaber, calling him a bad guy. Her mom stopped her and apologized.

"Your costume looks great," she told Ben. He thanked her in his modulated voice, and she stared at him for a few seconds before walking away.

Another little Kylo Ren ran up to give Ben a high five. His dad said, "Hey, it's grown-up Kylo Ren. Nice outfit, man. I wish I had the balls to go full Kylo. That dude is great."

"Thank you," Ben said. I poked him with my elbow.

The dad just laughed. "Always in character." He winked. "Good on ya, fella. Have a great one."

"That's enough. Let's go," I said.

"Yeah," Ben said. "This helmet is hot."

After saying goodnight to my grandfather, we got back in the car. Ben took off the helmet and shook out his long hair. "Whew. Dying in that thing."

"How did you film?" I asked.

He tossed the helmet in the back seat. "I was hot and uncomfortable. I took as many breaks as I could. You know, acting is not a glamorous career. Mostly, it's a lot of work, often challenging and difficult. Some aspects are boring, some intense, some fun…depends. It's fulfilling, though, at least for me. I love it."

"Sounds like any other career," I said.

Ben pushed the starter, put the car in gear, and pulled away out of the driveway. "That's right. Even the stuff that might seem glamorous, like walking the red carpet or attending opening nights, is just another part of the job. Not very fun. Again, you did not hear any of that come out of my mouth."

"I won't tell," I said.

We drove in silence. "Normally, I don't date civilians," he said. He glanced over at me. "You know, people outside the industry. I have to be very careful with my image and privacy. I'm not being conceited here. It's really important and sometimes a matter of safety."

"Gotcha. Safety, security… You weren't supposed to sneak out tonight." I knew it. "How did you do it?"

"I went out the back door in full costume on Halloween."

"Simple as that," I said.

"Yep. Mitch doesn't expect me to ditch him. I try not to do it too much. And my team gives me privacy, if they know I have a date."

If this was a date, it had to be the weirdest one I'd ever been on.

We didn't speak until we were back in the garage. I got out of the car and so did he, with another little pained grunt or two.

He walked over to me. "I really have to get out of this outfit. It's too small for me."

"Clearly," I agreed. "You risk future generations of Solos."

"Absolutely right," he said, trying to shift himself surreptitiously.

We rode the elevator in silence for a bit. Ben seemed to be brooding. He finally opened his mouth to speak and the door opened.

I looked at him for a moment. "Did you want to say something?" I held the elevator.

"Thank you for doing this for me. It was … special. Different. Uh, nice. Thanks."

Nervous Ben was back in full force.

"You are so welcome," I said. The elevator buzzed at me.

"Well, good night," he said. "Don't let the elevator close on your hand."

I let the door go and stepped out. "Good night," I said. The door started to shut.

Ben jumped out before the door closed.

"Oh," I said.

He glanced up and down the hall. No one was around.

"I shouldn't, but…" he said. He took one black leather-gloved hand and put it up to my face. "Aw, shit," he said. He looked at his hand. "Forgot the gloves," he said, pulling them off. "I'm just not used to … shit." He put the gloves together into one hand. "Fuck it," he said. He bent down and kissed my cheek gently. "You're a peach, Rey," he said.

The elevator doors opened again and a man in a suit stood inside. "Mr. Solo," he said.

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Ben said. He stepped on the elevator, slapped his gloves against his thigh, and nodded at me. "See ya round."

Gwennie's party was still in full swing when I got there. She wanted to know where I'd been.

"My grandfather's house. He was passing out candy," I said.

"Aww, how sweet that you love that old guy. He's like your own Luke Skywalker or Obi-Wan." Gwennie liked to talk about everything in terms of The Star One franchise.

In fact, her whole apartment was decorated in Star One paraphernalia. Over in one corner, she even had life-sized cut-outs of Kira of Jakku and Kylo Ren. I found it slightly creepy to see Ben's face staring at me under his dark brows with a jagged scar bisecting his face. It was like he was at the party, lurking in a corner. I wondered what he was doing. I kind of wished I'd asked him over for a drink instead of coming here.

Gwennie had the last Star One movie playing on her TV in the living room. Some people were watching and cheering the characters on. Ben was all over the screen, in the same outfit he had been wearing just hours ago. As I watched, Gwennie started making comments about him.

"Ben Solo is so fucking hot. I know he lives somewhere nearby in this neighborhood. I would die to meet him," Gwennie said. "I need to know his fucking address. I've been looking everywhere online, even on that awful cesspool doxxceleb. Hey, Rey, you ever been on there? They publish a lot of celebrity addresses."

"No," I said, watching Ben as Kylo Ren sweep a giant cape behind him before whipping out a lightsaber. He was so graceful and strong—and sexy. Damn. What was I doing here?

Gwennie walked in front of me to pass me a cup of whatever shit she was drinking. Space Juice, she called it. It was dark purple. "Tastes like Kylo Ren's cum," she said.

"Oh, goodie," I said.

"Lighten up," she said. "It can be Aragorn's cum, if you like that better. Viggo Mortensen was hot in Lord of the Rings, too. Maybe not so much now, though. He's kind of old."

I shrugged. "He's a poet," I said.

"Who, Aragorn?"

"No, Viggo Mortensen."

Gwennie rolled her eyes. "I don't care about that. But speaking of The Star One, remember I got those tickets to the convention when Trooper and I were together."

Finn "Super Duper Storm Trooper" Storm was Gwennie's weird ex-boyfriend. He was currently in Gwennie's kitchen making out with another girl. Gwennie didn't seem to give a shit.

"I'm not fucking going," Trooper said, walking out with an arm around the girl he'd been kissing. "I have to work and I'm not going with her." He indicated Gwennie.

"Fuck off, Troop. I love Kylo Ren! I love Ben Solo! Somebody better find him for me. I plan to marry his tall ass! He's the right size for me. Anyone but you, Trooper. You're a fucking asshole."

Finn winked at her and smiled. "Right back at you, tall bitch." He dragged the girl toward the door with his arm around her neck.

Gwennie kissed the life-sized cut-out of Kylo Ren and proclaimed that he was her boyfriend. Perhaps too much Space Juice for her.

"Anyway," Gwennie said. "I need you to go with me to the convention, Rey. You're my only hope."

"I really don't want to, Gwen. I'm not that much of a fan." I didn't say that the idea of being surrounded by Ben Solos all day didn't appeal to me. The real one, yes. But cosplay Kylos, Ben Solo photos, and giant cut-outs made me a little uncomfortable. I wondered what Ben thought about all that. I was sure it helped pay his bills, but I guessed that part of fame made him uncomfortable, too.

"Come on," Gwennie prodded. "I heard a rumor that Ben Solo is going to make a surprise visit to the Con. You keep staring at his cut-out. I saw you watching him fight in the movie. God, he is so fucking cute. I need to meet him so bad. Did you know he did a play down at the Starkiller theater? Forgot the name. Yeah, you remember, right? I had tickets on the wrong day. He only did rope line autographs on Wednesdays. Then I couldn't fucking get tickets again for a Wednesday. They were sold out. Shit. So, are you coming with me to the Con?"

When Gwennie latched onto an idea, she never let it go. I told her I would consider attending the Con with her just to shut her up. In her glee, she pretended to dance with the cut-out of Ben. I dumped the Space Juice in the sink and left the party.

Two days later, I was back at The Just Cup, trying to make some progress on my book. Ben came in again to whisper to the barista. He was wearing a big baseball hat and a hoodie with the hood up over the hat. He looked more conspicuous than ever.

I saw his bodyguard outside the door.

Ben spotted me and brought his coffee cup over.

"Hey," he said, pulling out a chair.

"Hello," I said. "You look more comfortable than the last time I saw you."

He chuckled. "I am much more comfortable," he said. "Did I tell you that the costume designers made the damn thing too small?"

"Yes, but why?"

"They wanted Kylo Ren to be uncomfortable since he wasn't supposed to be fully a bad guy," Ben said, softly, leaning in to whisper. "The costumers made it easy for me to seem ill-at-ease. Maybe too easy." He leaned back. "That's the backstory that will be told when the extended DVD is released. But, really, I think they used older measurements, and by the time I had to do my scenes, I had put on weight and filled out. I built a lot of muscle for the role, then I didn't fit into the costume."

"All the juicy gossip," I said.

"Yep. But it's pure speculation on my part. Maybe they did want to make me feel uncomfortable," he said, giving me a winning grin.

"And I didn't hear you say any of that out loud, right?"

"You're catching on quick. You know, I am honestly not used to all this fame business. I've been a sidekick actor most of my career. I have had to learn how to be cautious and private." He paused and took a sip of his coffee. "I have always been a bit of a loner and a recluse. No one used to recognize me."

"Never?" I asked.

"Rarely," he said. "Now, I can't go out without a bodyguard. Usually I can't go out at all. That's why your offer was so great."

"You are welcome," I said. I paused, eying two women with phones out. I heard them whisper back and forth. "Is that him?" the one in a black coat whispered to the other.

"Shit," I said. "Fans and groupies on your six."

Ben jumped a bit and put his head lower into his coffee cup. "Mitch is outside," he muttered.

"I got you," I said. "Don't turn around, whatever you do."

I jumped up and put on my best country accent. "Hey, wow, is that the new iPhone?" I went up to the women. "How's the camera? I heard it was great."

They tried to peer around me to get a glimpse of Ben. "Excuse me, were you sitting with him?"

"Who?" I said. I turned around quickly and turned back to them. "You mean him?"

"That's Ben Solo," the one in the black coat said in a stage-whisper.

I turned around again and looked at Ben's hunched shoulders. "It is? No, no. That's my husband Bill. We're from upcountry." I turned back to the women. "Don't mind him. Got a bit of a hangover." I paused, pretending to consider. "Well, all right, from the back he does kind of resemble Ben Solo. I'm a lucky gal, huh?" I poked at them with my elbow. "He's pretty good in the bedroom, if you know what I mean." I winked. "Don't think Ben Solo could beat him."

The ladies exchanged glances.

"He owns a tire shop up in Preston. If you get up there, ask for Bill's Wolverine Tires. He'll fix you right up."

They seemed disappointed. "I guess it's too much to ask to see someone like Ben Solo in the wild, huh?" Black Coat said.

"Well, if you do, it's not going to be around here. Matt Damon lives here, but not Ben Solo," I said.

"Right. Well, thanks." They drifted off, still muttering.

I sat back down. "Hey, you better get the hell out of here after they leave."

He pushed his hat up a little. "Bill, your hungover husband who sells tires and is good in bed?"

"I was improvising. I am a writer, after all."

Ben shook his head in amazement. "Well done, Rey. You sure you're not an actor?"

"Nope, not in the least," I said.

Ben looked me up and down. "Hmmm," he said. "You can be my scene partner anytime. Well, gotta run." He stood up, leaned over and kissed my cheek again.

"You have shitty aim," I said. The words just popped out. I wanted to grab them and cram them back in my mouth. He was just being friendly, for shit's sake.

Ben gazed at me. I closed my eyes for a second, then peeked at him. "Is that so?" He slowly put down the coffee cup.

"Uh," I said.

Ben Solo leaned down and pressed his soft, full lips right on mine. It was sweet and tender, nothing like I'd seen him do in movies where he kissed women with ferocious hunger. His mustache tickled my face. He tasted of black coffee and smelled like spice and warm man. He opened his mouth to taste me briefly, gently, then withdrew his tongue and pulled his lips away slowly. If I had to describe heaven to someone who had never been there, that kiss was it.

"Better?" he asked, staring into my eyes.

I nodded. His eyes crinkled a little at the corners, and he was looking at me like I was special to him.

"Good," he said. "See ya."

I thought about that kiss for a couple of days. I wished for a repeat, then I hoped it wouldn't happen, then I wanted it again. The whole idea scared the shit out of me. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Ben didn't contact me after kissing me so sweetly. I half-waited, half-didn't, half-went crazy. I watched for him in the morning at the mailboxes, hung around the elevators longer than strictly necessary, and walked by his car in the damn garage. I felt like a stalker, so I stopped. I stopped waiting, watching, and then I stopped writing at The Just Cup.

Clearly, Ben Solo had ghosted me. Maybe he didn't do relationships. He might not be that interested in me, when there were starlets, gorgeous co-stars, sexy blondes, and perfect women with their stylists all hanging on his arm, accepting hugs and cheek kisses. I had no stylist. I washed my face with soap, brushed my straight average brown hair into a long bob, and hoped for the best.

After a couple of days of freaking out and being completely unproductive, I gave up and went back to The Just Cup. I set up my laptop again. I really missed writing there. I liked the music, the low hum of conversation in corners, the dark dingy walls, everything. I'd be damned if I would let famous Ben Solo run me off.

I groaned to myself when he walked in. Of course he was here. I ignored him, studiously, tapping away nonsense on my keyboard. I couldn't think straight to write something meaningful.

I only looked up when a large hand knocked on the table. I stopped typing and said hello.

"May I sit?" he asked.

"Be my guest," I said.

He sat and pressed his full lips together, then chewed one side of his lip. He scrunched up his nose and scratched his beard. "Um," he said.

"Spit it out," I said.

Ben looked a little taken aback. He cleared his throat and sipped his coffee. "I've been wondering where you were," he said. "I was hoping to see you here, Rey."

Bullshit. "You know where I live. Why not stop by and knock?"

He shifted a little in his chair. "I don't have your phone number. I didn't want to come by unannounced."

Ha, that hadn't stopped him before.

"And you have no minions who can look it up?"

"Okay, well, I can see you're mad," he said, holding up a hand. "You know I can't do it, right? I just can't … date someone…"

"Like me?" I finished for him. "A non-famous person?"

"Someone outside the industry," he said. A slight blush crawled up his face, and he looked away from me.

"Which industry is that?" I asked, knowing full well what he meant.

"The entertainment industry," he said, with exaggerated patience.

"Famous people don't date outside the industry," I said. "Is that correct?"

"No, that's not correct," he said in clipped tones. "But my security team suggests it, given my special circumstances."

"And those are?"

"I sound like a conceited asshole," he said.

I just glared at him. He frowned at me. "I am not a conceited asshole, Rey," he snapped. He pointed a finger at me. "You know what? Fuck it. I want a normal life. I don't want this bullshit. I want to take you out on a normal date, talk about normal shit, and have normal sex in my normal bed inside a normal house. But I don't have that fucking choice."

"I don't like normal sex anyway," I snapped. "I write smutty romance novels."

Ben stared at me for a couple of seconds, dropping his hand. His eyebrows shot up. "What?" He sat back in his chair. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," I mumbled. "Fine, go be abnormal and take your famous face with you."

Ben Solo tipped his head back and growled out of pure frustration. He lightly pounded his fists on the table. He gave me a feral glare, whiskey-brown eyes angry, teeth gritted. He growled again and turned it into the word "hate."

I tipped my chin up to glare back at him with my lips pressed together. Ben lowered the screen of my laptop, still staring at me like an animal, with his eyes alight. He leaned over the table toward me. "I hate it. All of it. It gets to me that I can't do things, go places, be with people. Sometimes, I just can't anymore."

"I can see that," I ground out between my teeth. "Get the fuck over it."

I did feel kind of sorry for him, though. I imagined not being able to buy groceries or meet a friend for dinner without a huge production. That must get old.

"My agent, my publicist, my stylist, my security team, my assistants, and all the fucking minions say, 'Ben, do not date someone outside the industry. She doesn't know the rules.'"

"I get it," I said, blinking away some moisture in my eyes. I would not fucking cry. "No dating." I couldn't even look at Ben.

"I am sorry. I can't," he said. He dropped his gaze and rubbed his eyes lightly. "I am taking my famous face and leaving now." He sounded sad, trapped. He reached out a hand. Against my better judgment, I took it. He pressed his lips to my fingers. "Maybe when this all calms down, it won't matter anymore."

"Okay," I muttered. I didn't believe it.

"I want to know what you mean about the sex," he said, kissing my palm lightly. He placed my hand on his face. I felt how soft his beard was against my palm.

"Didn't mean anything. I was just saying stuff," I replied. "I'm really boring and uptight."

"Hmm," he murmured, twining his fingers with mine. "I'm rude and selfish."

"I'm uncomfortable and frigid," I said.

"I'm all about getting myself off," he said. He let go of my hand and scooted his chair around the table to sit next to me.

"I just lie there and think of England," I said.

Ben leaned over and touched his lips to mine. "I don't eat pussy," he whispered. He kissed my lips, cheeks, temple, and returned to my lips again.

"I don't suck dick," I said, softly.

"Oh, shit," he answered. "I need you not to suck dick so much." He kissed me, deeper, slipping his tongue in my mouth. I feasted on him, luxuriously, for a moment.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ben's security guard move toward us.

"Caught," I said.

"Fuck," Ben said.

"Or not. Bye, Ben," I said. "Do what your team says, and no one gets hurt."

He stood up, bent down for another sweet, lingering kiss, and left without a glance back.

My phone rang. Private caller. Normally those are sales calls, but I picked up anyway. I was in the mood to yell at someone, someone on Ben's team preferably, but it may as well be a telemarketer. I wasn't picky.

"Kira of Jakku here, may I help you?" I stated the name of Kylo Ren's lover in The Star One as crisply as I could.

There was a startled silence. I smiled in malicious pleasure. Maybe the telemarketer was a fan. Ha.

"Pardon?" A deep voice on the other end asked.

Now it was my turn to be startled. "Hello?"

"Kira of Jakku? Really?"

"Uh," I said. "Who is this?"

"Well…" he paused. "Is this … Rey Jackson?"

"Ben? Yes, this is me. I mean, Rey." I heard a rush of air on the other end. "I thought you were a telemarketer."

"Oh, okay. You said you were Kira of Jakku?"

"Yes, I was annoyed."

"Got it," he said. "Listen, can I come down and visit you? I want to talk about something."

"Sure," I said.

About five minutes later, Ben Solo knocked on my door. He stood there with his fluffy dark hair, soft mustache, and sad whiskey-brown eyes.

I opened the door and allowed him to step in.

Ben sighed deeply and took my hands in his. He stepped closer, bent his head, and found my lips. He kissed me with the hungry fervor I had seen in his films.

I returned his kisses, unable to help myself. His mouth was delicious. I would never get enough of the feel of his full lips pressed on mine, his warm tongue teasing my mouth open and exploring. Never have enough of touching his silky soft hair and feeling him pull me closer, bending down to reach me.

"Ben," I said, while he pressed kisses on my face. "What are we doing?"

He gazed into my eyes. "I want to kiss you so badly. I want to be here with you, Rey. I really like you. Maybe it's against the better judgment of … everyone around me. But I don't fucking care."

I huffed a short laugh. "You are here against your better judgment and that of the others around you?"

He looked a bit strained. "I guess so. Come on, Rey, I told them you aren't a fan. I know you aren't."

I put my hands on my hips. "No, Ben, I'm not a fan, I suppose. Not like some…" I waved my hand to indicate those who were hardcore into the movies, like Gwennie. "But I don't think there's anything wrong with that or the people who love the stories."

Ben held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I don't either. I just don't want to be doxed or stalked."

"Hi, I don't plan on doing anything like that to you. You came and found me, each and every time. Don't give me bullshit about me being the bad guy here. I am not a fucking stalker, fan, doxer, or paparazzi." I was almost yelling by the end of my little speech. "Why don't you do what you want to do and trust your instincts for a change?"

Ben dropped his head and gazed at his feet. He didn't say one word.

I softened up a bit. "I know you've never done this fame thing before. You're relying on other people to help you stay safe and keep your privacy intact. I get that. But if you want to hang out with some of us regular folk, then do it. Didn't my grandfather show you that it could be all right? I'm not out to get you."

Ben raked a hand through his hair. "You are right. I am trying to find my way through this maze of new rules. I am fucking up on every level." He paused. "I'd like to stay. I'd like to be with you." He looked sheepish as hell, like he was just a regular guy caught in this stupid situation. Which he was.

"Do they need me to sign an NDA?" I asked. Ben looked startled. "Yeah, I did some reading. I'm a writer. I do research. If it would make your team feel better, I can do it."

"Fuck," Ben said. "Probably, but I sure as hell don't want you to. I want to be normal. Just for one day."

"Well, you can't, at least not out there," I said, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around him. He gathered me close and rested his head on mine. "But you can be normal here with me in this apartment. Just be Ben, okay?"

"All right," he said, mumbling in my hair. "I'm a hardworking, Midwestern guy who grew up as a theatre geek. I am nobody special. I worked hard at acting school, did my best, and got lucky. I was never supposed to be more than a secondary character actor... Now I'm here. I have no idea why."

I patted his chest. "Because you're just that good and somebody recognized it. Leading man roles started coming your way and you skyrocketed into the stratosphere."

"I guess. I'm not much of a leading man, though," Ben countered, allowing me to pull him into my cozy living room.

"Whatever you say," I said, giving him a little push toward the sectional.

He sat down and patted the seat next to him. I snuggled in the circle of his arms, pulled my knees up, and rested my head on his shoulder.

Ben touched my cheek with gentle fingers. I turned my face up to look at him. We gazed at one another for a few. Then he bent down and touched his lips to mine. We kissed softly, gently, taking our time. I learned the outline of his plush mouth as he opened it to taste me. His large hand cupped my face, his thumb by the pulse point under my ear. I could not think of anything other than Ben's warm tongue sliding into my mouth. He tasted so good, so satisfying, like he was water and I was thirsty. I needed to gulp down as much as possible.

I crawled on his lap, my mouth still glued to his. His hands cupped my bottom and drew me closer. I felt the hard length of him, and I pushed myself against him, desperate for some contact to ease the ache between my legs.

"Rey," he gasped softly, kissing my neck, nipping with his teeth. He scooted forward on the couch and picked me up. Just picked me up, dead lifting me with his muscular arms and legs, without any thought. I was stunned at the strength this man had. I clenched my thighs around his waist and looped my arms on his shoulders.

"Ben," I said, unnecessarily, staring at him.

"Yeah, where am I going?" His brown eyes were dark, full of passion.

"Bedroom," I said, finding his mouth again.

He carried me down the short hallway, still kissing me hungrily. He laid me on the bed and stood up. Slowly, Ben peeled off his t-shirt to reveal the muscular chest that had been on display in many a film. I swallowed and sat up. I reached for him. He stepped back and shook his head, dark waves spilling around his face. His eyes never left mine.

Next, he kicked off those size 14 shoes of his, one foot on the heel of the first shoe, then the next.

"Ben," I said, standing, "let me touch you."

He took another step back. "No, that's not what this is," he said with a small smile.

"What is it?"

"Sit down, Rey," he said in a soft commanding voice. It sent a shiver down my spine.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

Still watching my reaction, Ben reached down and unbuckled his belt, slowly, so slowly. And pulled it out of the loops. And dropped it on the floor. He unbuttoned his pants, then slid the zipper down. Slowly.

"Ben," I said.

"Do you like this? May I continue?" he rumbled softly.

"Yes," I breathed.

Ben pushed his pants down past his lean hips, leaving a pair of black underwear in place. His hard cock thrust at the material, demanding to be set free. I needed to touch him. I needed to see the full show.

He stepped out of his pants and kicked them off. He turned his back and slid the underwear down over his taut, muscled ass. Then he bent over to slip off one sock, then the other. I felt my heart rate skyrocket.

Ben sighed and stretched his arms up, then down, preening for me. I couldn't take another second of watching. I leapt off the bed and scooted up behind him. I touched his warm back, feeling his muscles flex under my hands. Ben growled a little but stood still. I ran my hands down to his hips and around to his flat belly, feeling the happy trail of soft hair leading downward. But I moved my hands up instead. I wanted to feel his chest, with the wall of muscle up by his nipples. His hands met mine over his chest. He moved my hands downward, further and further, past the trail, and into his wiry dark hair. I couldn't see over Ben's shoulder, but I felt his dick twitch into my hand. I palmed him and heard him suck his breath in.

I fisted him then and felt the length of his dick, its thick circumference and large head. He groaned a bit while I touched him.

Ben turned and gazed down at me with passion-glazed eyes. "My sweet Rey," he muttered and took my mouth.

I pulled away after a hungry kiss. "I'm over-dressed for the occasion," I said.

"Yes," he said and started pulling off my clothes with his giant hands. He made short work of my shirt and jeans. He gazed at me with my bra and panties on. "Beautiful," he said, thumbing one of my nipples. I sucked in a breath.

He popped my bra and knelt in front of me. His hair brushed my arm, its softness lit a deep fire in my body... His warm lips closed over my nipple while his other hand palmed my breast.

I gasped as he worked my nipples, first one, then the other, suckling, blowing cool air, and returning each one to the warmth of his mouth.

"Your face," I said, hardly able to speak. "Your beard…"

Ben met my eyes. "What about them? Do you want me to do this?" He brushed his beard against my breasts. I threaded my fingers in his hair and arched back.

"Yes," I said.

"Lie down, baby. Let me touch you all over."

I pulled my panties off, tossed them aside, and fell onto the bed with Ben right on top of me. He smiled down at me. I touched his face. "Is it too weird?"

"My face?" he joked. "Some think so."

"No," I swatted him lightly on his arm. "My beard kink."

"Ahhh, no." He shook his head. "Not at all."

I ran my hands all over his shoulders as he brushed me with his face, nipping and tasting as he went down my arms, up to my neck, skimming my breasts, and finally, finally moving downward along my belly toward my wetness.

Then Ben Solo skipped past the best part. I sat up. He pushed me down and settled himself on the floor by the bed.

"We'll get there," he murmured, nuzzling my knees and pushing them apart with his face. He nipped along my thighs with his sharp teeth. "I need to taste you soon. But first a little beard kink."

That was when I regretted telling him about it. Ben brushed his beard and mustache up and down my thighs. Then he switched to his long soft hair. Each time, he stopped before getting to the place I really needed him to go. I started to growl at him. I even tried to grab his head, but he took my hands and held them. I sat up again and said, "What. Are. You. Doing?"

He winked at me a little, just a tiny one. "Pushy little thing, aren't you? You'll have to wait. Keep those hands to yourself."

"Ben," I gasped. "I need it. I need you."

"Hmmm," he said, raising his brows. "Lie down, then. Count to ten. Hands by your side, Miss."

I counted as he slowly kissed up my inner thighs, back and forth, switching sides. Finally, he stopped and spread my legs open as far as they would go. I heard myself make a strangled sound as I begged for him to touch me, to put his mouth on me.

Then he did. He licked a long hot stripe up my core and stopped short of my clit. I cried out. He touched my clit with the point of his tongue and swirled. I grabbed the man's head. I seriously couldn't help myself. I heard him laugh before he pressed his mouth full on my cunt and ate me like he was starving. I couldn't even think. I jumped at the intensity of the sensations, but Ben held me tight and rode with me. Finally, he found the right spot and I shattered with hot ripples blasting through my body.

I called his name and pulled his hair, ruffling it every which way.

Ben stayed down there with his mouth glued to me and his hands still holding me down. He slowly released me. Then I felt him dip his tongue in to lick up my juices.

"Yum," he said, crawling up to look into my face. "Exactly what I imagined."

"Me, too. Only better."

He pressed his moist face against my cheek. "Fantasizing about me?"

I nodded and felt him smile. He moved on top of me, holding himself up on his elbows so as not to squash me. I felt his insistent dick poking me in the leg. I reached down and palmed him again.

"Shall we do something with this?"

"Mmmm," he said, and bent to kiss me. "Let's."

"Do you want to come inside me or …?"

"Yes," he said. "Everything."

"Start out with a bit of dick sucking and then move on or vice versa?" I asked.

"Such a question out of that sweet little mouth." He kissed me. "Decisions, decisions."

"Never mind, Ben Solo. If you can't decide, then I will," I said, pushing him. He obliged and fell on his back.

"Do it to me, baby," he said, pulling me toward him.

I let my own hair drift over him as I nuzzled my way down to lick the living hell out of that giant dick of his. He pushed his hands through my hair, down my back, and pulled my legs toward him.

I pushed his dick into my mouth as fast and far as I could.

Ben dropped his hands and moaned loudly. I sucked him, nibbling at the head, licking up and down the shaft. I took him as deep as possible and closed my lips around him. I enjoyed his groans of pleasure—they were dark and low and very sexy. He resumed his meanderings on my body, pulling me toward his face. He rolled to one side and opened my legs to find my cunt with his tongue.

That's when it became a contest of wills. I tried to ignore all the soft licks and teases of tongue, rather unsuccessfully, while redoubling my efforts with his hard cock. I gently nosed his testicles and buried my face underneath to lick the undersides and between his legs. I received some moans against my clit for my troubles and almost lost focus on his dick.

He sensed he had me and pushed me on my back to open my legs wider.

"No," I gasped and tried to move. "This is for you, not me."

Ben chuckled. "That's what you think."

"Please, let me come with you inside me," I said.

That stopped him. He withdrew his lips and tongue from between my legs and crawled on top of me.

I had to slide down on the bed some because he was so tall, his knees were hitting the headboard. He jumped up, dug in his pocket, and pulled out a condom. He rolled it on and came back over to me.

"How do you like it best?" he asked.

"I don't fucking care," I said. "Just do it now."

He crawled on top of me and fitted himself at the entrance to my cunt. I wrapped my legs around his ass and helped him push into me. It was a tight fit, but he filled me so good, I could barely handle it.

We moved in sync, a little slower at first, then hard and faster.

"Can you come like this?" he asked, slowing down a little.

"No, I don't think so," I said. "I have to do something else."

"Show me," he said and pulled out.

I got on all fours. I heard him gasp and say, "Oh, yes, baby. Oh, yes, that's so good." He pushed into me from behind. I heard him lick his fingers and reach down between my legs. The sound of it was so dirty I almost fell apart. He slowly circled my clit while shoved into me as far as possible. I cried out as the orgasm built. Ben rocked slowly, pulling in and out slightly. He found the spot I needed, and I fell over the edge with him filling me up. His thrusting made my orgasm richer and stronger. He didn't stop pressing my clit until his own peak took him.

I heard Ben shout with the force of his orgasm. He pulled out of me and lay for a moment. I rolled to my side to find him.

He had an arm across his eyes and was breathing hard. I giggled just a little. He raised his arm to look at me.

"You are trying to kill me," he said, affectionately. He jumped up to get rid of the condom.

Ben roared as he came back to bed looking like a wild man with his hair all messed up. I squeaked as he growled at me and pulled me close. He nuzzled me with his beard and grunted in my ear, making downright obscene smacking noises.

"I will eat you up, my sweet, sweet Rey," he hummed. "Eat you up…"

We lay together, twining our fingers and talking idly.

"Tell your team that I will never give you up to the masses. I will sign something or declare my loyalty on a stack of Bibles, Ben," I told him seriously. "I mean it."

"And you're not a fan of The Star One, anyway."

"That's right. No more than any other person. I've seen the movies because I watched the original trilogy and the prequels, just like anyone else."

"Just like me," he agreed. "I grew up with The Star One series, too. I never expected to be in it, though."

"I bet not," I said.

"And you're not a fan of mine, either, it sounds like," he said, raising his brows for clarification.

"I don't know how to answer that, Ben," I said. "If you mean, am I part of a fan club? No. If you mean, have I watched your films? Then, yes. Not all, of course. You have been in so many movies. I would like to see more of your work—but that's because…" I stopped. I didn't know quite how to put it.

"I'm your lover," he finished.

"And I want to support you and your work. That's what you do when…" I stopped again.

He looked at me. "When you love someone."

I stared at him and nodded once. I buried my face in his shoulder, not wanting to be so raw and exposed to him. "I am afraid," I whispered against his neck. "So afraid of you, of the whole thing."

"I know," he breathed in my ear. "Me, too. God. Me, too."

I really didn't want to go to The Star One convention. I thought Gwennie might be too drunk to remember our discussion at her Halloween party—and my stupid promise to consider going. I was wrong. In fact, she remembered me saying I would go with her. After some debate, I let her drag me off to the Silverdome for the Con.

"I heard that it's going to have the guy who plays Luke Skywalker and the one who plays Poe. You wouldn't know their real names, but you know those, right? Let's see." She consulted her list from the Internet. "Also, Holdo and Rose. But no Ben Solo or Daisy Ridley. Too bad."

Probably just as well. Gwennie was too much of a fan to handle the knowledge that Ben Solo lived nearby and knew who I was. Knew everything about me. Knew what my lips tasted like. Knew what I looked like naked…coming apart in his arms.

I also didn't tell Ben that I was attending this convention with Gwennie. He had made a big deal about me not being a fan to reassure himself and his security team that I was not a threat. I didn't see any good coming from telling him about the Con.

Gwennie and I wandered around and looked at all the exhibits. Vendors sold everything from books to dolls to toys. Some merch was autographed; some was not. Lots of people were dressed like the characters. Gwennie was dressed as a Kira of Jakku again, same as Halloween. I was dressed as Rey Jackson, secret lover of Ben Solo.

There was more than one Kylo Ren stalking through the convention center, holding lightsabers and wearing helmets. Some were dressed in homemade black tunics and pants. Others had more sophisticated versions with big swirling black capes and real boots, the whole business. The helms ranged from plastic to what seemed like actual metal. I was fascinated watching all the Kylos, though the scowling Ben Solo posters were giving me the creeps. I could see how this whole fame thing would make his life a nightmare.

I saw one Kylo stalking around who mimicked the Ben Solo walk very closely. He had the Ben Solo big dick energy and swagger, a bit awkward, one foot that turned in slightly. This guy had it down. He was tall and radiated the power that Kylo Ren projected onscreen.

Gwennie poked me. "Look at that guy cosplaying Kylo. He's pretty good."

"Yeah," I said, frowning.

Another Kylo cosplayer with an obviously homemade outfit stopped our guy. "Hey, great costume. Looks so real. Did you get that online?" His voice sounded muffled—but not modulated—through his helmet.

I strained to hear the answer of the one with the realistic costume. "No," he said, with a modulated voice. "I am the real Kylo Ren."

The homemade cosplayer laughed and slapped the "real" Kylo on the back. "Yeah, you are. You are more real than me. Great job, man."

"Thank you," the "real" Kylo said. His voice sounded a lot like the modulated tones of Ben Solo.

"Holy shit," Gwennie said. "He's good." She laughed and moved on.

"I'm going to look at these Star One books," I said, keeping an eye on the "real" Kylo. I wanted to see what he would do next.

"I'm standing in line for autographs," she said. "Over there." She pointed to a long line snaking outside an auditorium. I could see a row of tables up on the stage and people climbing up for autographs. Gwennie went to stand behind the last person in line.

The "real" Kylo aimlessly walked around. People continued to high-five him or comment on the veracity of his outfit. Every time he was stopped, he told them in that modulated voice, "I am the real Kylo Ren."

Every one of them smiled or laughed and made more comments about the realism of his costume.

I really wanted to talk to this guy. Why was he going around saying he was the real Kylo Ren? Was it a thing here at this convention to be so in character that people denied they were cosplaying? Perhaps.

I walked up to the "real" Kylo and said hello to him.

"Whoa," he said. "Shit. Hi."

"Are you the real Kylo Ren?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah, yeah… I am…" he said.

"Does anyone here believe you?" I asked, trying to see through that stupid mask.

"Uh, yeah, well, no, they don't."

"Hmmm," I said, staring deep into the eye grill. I couldn't see his eyes. He took a step back.

"My name's Rey," I said, pleasantly, sticking out my hand. "And you are?"

"I am… Ben," he said. "Ben…Solo."

"Really?" I said.

"No," he said, shaking my hand briefly. "Not really."

I knew that hand, gloved or not. That hand had stroked my body; those fingers had been tucked up inside me, making me moan with delight. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Where's your security team?" I asked, softly.

He heaved a sigh.

"Come on, Ben," I whispered. I headed for large open hallway that had the bathrooms.

He followed me. I found an alcove with a potted plant.

"Are you nuts?" I whispered. "We have to get you out of here."

Ben unclasped the helmet and pulled it off. It wasn't like in the movie when he pulled the helm off and his hair was perfect. His hair was flattened against his head and he was sweating.

"Ah, this fucking thing is so hot. I'm dying." He shook his hair out and raked his leather-clad hand through it. Some of his hair stood up by itself. I fought the urge to either pat it down or whack him upside his head.

"What the fuck, Ben? You will get mobbed here, and your security team is God knows where."

"I know that," he hissed, looking around. "It was a risk. But, you were right, no one expected me to be the real Kylo Ren. They paid no attention to me. No recognition whatsoever."

"That's not going to hold. I recognized you."

"Yeah, but you and I are sleeping together. Hey, what the hell are you doing here anyway? You aren't supposed to be here." He ducked his head as some convention-goers walked by.

"I'm with a friend. She's a huge fan of yours, and she will be looking for me soon. You need to get the hell out of here. It is literally the worst place you could be without security."

Ben pulled off a glove and rubbed his sweaty face. "Right, I know."

"These people could hurt you inadvertently, if they figure out who you really are."

He shot me an annoyed look and tugged the glove back on. "I understand that, Rey, believe me."

"Where is your team?"

"I irresponsibly ditched Mitch at the coffee shop around the corner," he replied between gritted teeth.

"Oh, good. Now they are on the hunt for you? And you aren't answering your phone or checking in?"

"I texted that I was with you," he growled, showing some of that Kylo Ren grumpy energy he was famous for.

"Lower your voice. It's quite distinctive," I said, softly.

"Fuck," he said.

"Call them," I urged. "And turn around so you face the wall." People were beginning to get interested in us.

"Putting me a corner, Rey?" Ben asked, sounding amused. His darker mood seemed to lift a bit.

I shot him an annoyed glare. "Now is not the time."

Suddenly, Gwennie walked into view. "Shit, girl, there you are," she said, exasperated. "I have been looking for you everywhere." She spotted Ben, who was speaking into his phone. "Who ya got there? A Kylo?"

"Uh, yeah," I answered, stepping away from Ben. "No big deal. Just talking and he got a phone call. Listen, I was thinking maybe you could grab us some drinks." I took Gwennie's arm and tried to steer her away from the corner we were in. She's a very tall woman and, as noted, I am not. She stopped dead in her tracks.

"Holy fucking shit," she said loudly. "That's him, isn't it? That's him…" Her voice rose.

"No, no, it's not. Just looks a little like him from the back. He's a friend of mine." My acting didn't go over very well with Gwennie. She seemed skeptical. And she would recognize Ben Solo any day of the week. She'd seen so many photos and videos of him in every conceivable posture.

Ben heard the noise and turned around. I made a leap for him to push him back but got tangled in the potted plant and knocked it completely over. I damn near fell on my ass. Ben caught me.

"Whoa, careful!" he said.

That did it. His famous voice echoed in the hall. All eyes were on us.

Shit.

Gwennie yelled, "Ben fucking Solo! That's Ben Solo."

"Shut up, Gwennie," I said.

Ben stood there. "Fuck," he said. He turned away. It didn't work. Gwennie surged forward with a group of onlookers behind her. "Ben, Ben, Ben," they chanted.

"Hey, I saw him first," Gwennie said. She pushed forward up into Ben's personal space.

I stepped in front of her. "Gwennie, please don't," I said. "I'm begging you. Back the fuck off."

"Why?" she asked me. "It's him, isn't it?"

"Leave him alone," I said, tightly. "Where the fuck is security?"

The group pushed Ben further back into the alcove. My body and the downed plant were holding them back, but they were all trying to get to him. Gwennie included. Ben and I were both going to get hurt.

"Maybe if I sign autographs," he said to me. He shouted, "If you all back up, you can have an autograph."

People stopped to see what the commotion was. Ben took a pen from Gwennie, who was staring at him and telling him how much she adored him. He started signing anything that was thrust at him. The group surged forward, shoving my body into the wall. Books, figurines, magazines, and programs came flying at Ben for his signature. He was a tall target.

The crowd increased. Many fans jammed into the hallway to see what was going on. Convention security finally showed up and started trying to move the crowd.

"What's happening?" I heard them asking.

People began chanting Ben's name again. I ducked incoming missiles of fandom that overzealous autograph hounds continued to toss.

"Let us through," one guard called. Then another began pushing people out of the way.

"Put your helmet on," I shouted at Ben.

He dropped the pen and put the helmet back on.

The crowd rumbled louder. Everyone asked each other if that was the real Ben Solo. Ben's security team burst into the hallway, along with the police. People yelled. They began taking photos and videos, while Ben's team elbowed in to hustle him through the crowd. The police took on the task of crowd control and the shouting ramped up further. Hands grabbed at Ben, only to be pushed away by security personnel. A tall guard put his hand on Ben's helmeted head and pulled him out with record speed. The fire alarm went off as they rammed through a door that was not meant to open. The noise was deafening.

Gwennie and I were shoved further back into the alcove. We held our ears.

"What the fuck was that?" Gwennie shouted.

"That was Ben Solo," I hollered back.

We tried to get out of the alcove. Gwennie pushed forward and I followed, head ducked. Someone shoved me and I fell, slamming my wrist on the concrete floor. I rolled off it, holding it to my body and crying out in pain. Gwennie tried to help me up, but she was pushed away by security personnel clearing the room.

"Gwennie," I called.

A security guard saw me and helped me up. "Are you injured?" she asked.

"My wrist."

She called it in on her radio. "This is Unit 3. I have an injury at the incident." She paused and touched her ear to press her earbuds in more tightly. "Yes. That is correct. Yes, she fits that description. Yes. We can do that."

"My friend, Gwennie," I said.

"It's okay, Miss. She is fine. We will need to …" The radio bleeped. I heard nothing but cacophony. "All right. Do you have assistance in the vehicle?"

The radio buzzed and crackled again.

"This way, please." The guard ushered me through the same big doors that set off the alarm. An emergency vehicle was parked on the sidewalk. EMT workers rushed over and helped me climb up into the back. They pushed me down on the gurney, strapped me in, and we started to drive.

"I just sprained my wrist," I said, protesting the entire time.

"It's okay. We will check your wrist on the way," a kind but brisk man said.

"Where are we going?"

"To the Estate," he said. "We will be there soon."

"Estate?" I felt totally disoriented. What did the Estate mean? Was I being kidnapped? My head started to hurt from the fall.

The EMT personnel checked me over thoroughly and wrapped my wrist. The vehicle slowed, and I heard the driver speaking to someone. We started driving again and then stopped.

"Here we are," the man said. "If you have a headache that doesn't go away, please let us know. Have someone from the Estate call in."

I had no idea what that meant.

He opened the doors, and a man in a suit reached out to help me down. I recognized him as part of Ben's security team.

"Hi, where am I?" I asked. "Why am I here? What is going on?"

"Hold on, Miss Jackson," he said.

I saw Ben striding up, no longer in his costume. "It's okay, Mitch, I got her."

"Ben, what is going on?"

"How's your arm? Come inside." He put an arm around me. I touched my aching head and started to cry.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked. I leaned against him.

"Fuck this," Ben said and lifted me up in a bridal carry.

"Ben, no. I feel sick."

"Easy, baby, easy," he said, continuing to carry me toward a huge mansion off a massive circular driveway. The wide double doors were flung open. He carried me up the stone steps and over the threshold. The foyer was massive with marble floors and a tall ceiling. A long winding staircase led up to a second-floor area. There were two wings on the ground floor, one off to each side, all richly furnished, all polished, subdued, quiet, like an old-time library.

Ben set me on my feet. He gazed into my face. "Are you all right, Rey?" He lifted my injured wrist. "Shit, that's my fault."

"I'm all right," I lied, a little shaky. I still felt sick and my head was pounding.

"Come on, let's get you up to my suite."

His suite. What was this place?

Ben wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me up the stairs to a set of French doors. He opened them and ushered me inside. There was a sitting room area with a sectional, huge TV set-up, a polished mahogany desk, and a leather office chair. Ben pulled me through the sitting room into the next space that included a large king-sized bed, another couch and set of chairs, and a door leading off to what was sure to be a big ensuite bathroom.

Ben backed me up against the bed. He pushed my shoulders down. I sat. My sweet man folded himself onto the floor like a giant pretzel, big knees sticking out. He took my hands in his. He kissed each one, paying special attention to the injured wrist. Ben laid his head on my lap and wrapped his arms around my body, huge hands resting gently, lightly on my bottom.

I stroked his head with my uninjured hand. His hair felt so thick and soft. He murmured his pleasure into my lap.

"I am sorry about what happened. It's my fault," he mumbled into my belly.

"No, Ben, it's not. It's mine," I said, earnestly. "I never should have planted the idea of going out in public in your head. It was foolish and unsafe."

"And entirely my own idiotic doing," he said. "I just get tired sometimes… But, shit, you got hurt. I am so sorry I put you in that position."

"I'm sorry I outed you," I said. "You might have gotten away with it if I hadn't recognized you."

"Maybe," he said. "It was still a dumbass idea." He touched my cheek gently. "I never suspected you'd be there. I was doing this on my own, for myself."

I covered his hand with my own. "Where am I right now? Is this your home?"

He gazed at me for a second, clearly chewing on the idea.

"How about the truth, Ben."

"This is my house. I bought it after the first movie. I thought I should have a big place to live, and I shared it with my then-girlfriend. She loved it here." He shook his head and gave a dry laugh. "I hated it. I moved back to the city after living here for a year. I don't know why I keep this place."

"For when you get mobbed," I said, almost joking.

Ben insisted that I lie down and take a nap. He wouldn't stay in the room with me, though. He left stating he needed to do some work.

I paced for a while, stared at the furnishings and wondered if the girlfriend had decorated. It was all so weird, so different from my cozy nest. I really wanted to go back home.

My phone buzzed. Gwennie. Shit.

Without preamble, Gwennie launched when I answered. "I want an introduction to Ben Solo, a real one, and I want to know what happened. Did you fuck him? Is he good in bed?"

"I can't introduce you," I said.

"I just want to meet him properly. Say hi," she said. "Spend time and get to know him."

"It's not within my power to do that, Gwennie," I said. "There are very strict rules and I don't even understand them."

"Well, I'm coming over anyway. We need to watch this shit together."

"What shit?" I asked.

"You would not believe the coverage on the news. Your face and mine are featured, alongside Ben Solo. We are fucking famous."

"Oh, fuck," I said.

"Wait, don't watch it until I get there. Be over in ten."

"Gwennie, wait," I said, before she hung up. "I'm not at home right now."

Pause. I could almost hear her thinking. "Where the fuck are you?"

I hesitated.

Gwennie hummed. "Really? Where is this place? What?"

"What are you doing?" I asked, in a bit of a panic.

"Looking you up on Google. It gives your location. Remember how we set that up so we could signal our restaurant-hopping?

"Shit, no, Gwennie. Get off there," I said.

"Why? Where the fuck are you?" She stopped talking. "You're with him, aren't you? You're with Ben Solo. Tucked away in some love nest. Is that where the ambulance took you?" She was like a bulldog with a bone. She wouldn't let it go.

I didn't know what to say or how to answer. Anything I said would just lead to more questions and handing out more information.

She poured questions on top of me. Where does he live? Does he have a lot of money? What was he really like? Was I in love with him? Could she come over? Could she meet him? Could she hug him?

I finally told her to stop. "Please. I can't answer these questions. Even if I knew—and I don't—I couldn't tell you."

Gwennie huffed at me. "Some friend you are. You don't give a shit about me now that you have a famous boyfriend. You don't care about your old friends. Fuck you."

"I'm sorry, Gwennie. I don't know what to do here," I said.

"You can start by seeing how your boyfriend has gone viral on socials. He is all over the place, looking like a fool."

"What? Why?" I asked, feeling the pit of my stomach drop.

"Oh, yeah, some people there at the Con got it all on video. Ben Solo looks like an asshole. And so are you. Enjoy your man. Oh, by the way, he is so ugly I can't stand to look at him. I don't know why you would want his horsey face in bed with you." Gwennie hung up.

Unfortunately, as I soon found out, Ben's secret visit had indeed made the news—with entertainment outlets, Internet social media sites, and fans posting and re-posting footage of Ben cornered like a trapped animal against the wall. Then there were the pictures of him being whisked out with his helmet on. Internet trolls were making terrible fun of Ben for his stunt. Pulling a Ben Solo was trending as a meme. I was sickened by the spectacle. Ben's publicist was surely having a fucking heart attack. The whole debacle was truly awful: the maddened crowd, the rabid fans, the whole sick little package of fame and notoriety.

It was my fault for thinking that someone as famous as Ben Solo could walk around among us mere mortals. Why had I ever thought that fame was something to be conquered—that it would be okay to mess with it a bit? No, it was serious business and people could get hurt. I had no idea what kind of damage control would be needed. I wanted to run away, back to my safe life. A life without Ben. That thought made me sick, but I didn't belong here in this world.

I decided to leave, much as it pained me to think about it. His team was right. I didn't know the rules of security for famous people. I'd gotten injured; Ben's stunt was all over the Internet.

I might be falling in love with Ben, but so what? What did that mean? It just seemed like more of a fantasy than something real and lasting. I didn't do fantasy in real life—only in writing.

With renewed purpose, I left the suite and went searching for Ben. I found him downstairs in an office with a group of people. They were assembled around a big table in the center of the room, which was littered with papers. A desk with a computer sat by a bank of windows. Rows of bookshelves lined the walls.

They all looked up from their shuffle of papers when I walked in.

Ben rose. "Rey," he said. "Are you feeling better?" He walked over and put an arm around me. The other faces around the table were perfectly blank, but I felt their eyes on the two of us. "Come and sit."

I sat down with Ben next to me. His hand clasped mine and twined our fingers. He squeezed my hand and smiled at me with lips pressed together. Maybe it was an apology.

A woman cleared her throat. "I'm Lily, Mr. Solo's assistant," she said, reaching out a hand. Ben let go of my hand so I could shake Lily's.

Ben then introduced me to the two others at the table, his publicist, Miranda, and the leader of his security team, Mitchell Walker, who I had seen before.

"Mr. Solo," Mitch began. "Are you sure about this idea?"

Ben said, "I am."

Mitch turned to me. "Miss Jackson, for security purposes we plan to do a sweep of your online presence. If you know Mr. Solo's whereabouts and you are planning to be in the same location, you will need to comply with our security measures."

"All right," I said. I wanted to speak to Ben in private about leaving, but this didn't seem like a good time.

Miranda spoke up. "We have an NDA here that you should sign first." She pushed a piece of paper in front of me. I stared at it and then looked at Ben.

"Baby, I'm sorry, but it's the best way to do this," he said. "It will be safer for both of us."

"Do you have one, too?" I asked. "About me?"

Ben sat back. "Uh, well…"

"I'm sorry, but no," Miranda jumped in. "We don't have concerns about Mr. Solo informing the public about you or selling a story to the press."

"Why not?" I asked.

There was some uncomfortable shifting around.

"Mr. Solo's popularity and fame mean that he is susceptible to … gossip and doxing. You are not similarly susceptible." Miranda's face was totally blank.

"No one gives a shit about me, so no one would buy a story from Ben about my life."

Ben raked a hand through his hair and blew out his breath. "Rey," he said.

"Nice," I said. "Way to show me how meaningless I am. Look, Ben, I just need to go home now."

Ben stared at me. "Rey, you don't mean that. You don't understand."

"I do understand. Please don't tell me what I do or don't mean, Ben."

Ben pressed his lips together. "We… uh … Gwen Phasma …" He looked at Mitch.

"Miss Jackson, Gwen Phasma has doxed you and Mr. Solo. You may be harassed by fans if you return to your home for the next few days. We may be able to help keep the area clear for now, but our recommendation is that you stay here in this secure location until the interest in your movements decreases."

"What?"

Ben added, "Your friend has made our relationship public and handed out your address—and mine—on socials. Mitch doesn't know what will happen, but his suggestion is to stay here for safety. I agree."

"No, oh hell no. I don't want to stay here with nothing but the clothes on my back. I need to get my laptop and my things…" I stood. "I am leaving, if I have to walk."

"Miss Jackson, we don't recommend that," Mitch stated, coolly.

"I don't give a fuck."

Mitch and Ben exchanged glances. "I know," Ben said. "This is hard. It was hard for me."

I turned on him. "Yours happened a little at a time. One movie came out, then the second, and by the third, you were fully locked down. This is happening in a day. One fucking day."

Lily spoke gently, "Let's all take a breath. It is a lot to handle."

Mitch stared at her without expression. "We must begin clean-up and we need Miss Jackson's signature to do it. We must do it now. Her phone is beaming out this location as well. We can handle tourists and onlookers, like we always have, but it would be easier if we could shut it down now."

Lily nodded. "All right."

Mitch opened a large box. It contained a phone, tablet, and laptop—all new. "Miss, these are fully encrypted VPN-equipped devices. Once you sign our paperwork," he slid papers at me that bumped up against the NDA, "we will take over your accounts. You will be assigned a new name, new passwords that conform to our standards, and new LLC accounts for financials. We will erase you from all sites. The cleanse may take up to a year to be fully performed, but we can do a lot of it in the next 24-48 hours."

I was incredulous. "You want my phone?"

"Yes, please."

"You are shutting it down?"

"Yes. We will provide you with new accounts. You will also have a new burner phone from which to receive calls. You should not give your real phone number out to anyone except a close family member, like a parent or sibling—or Mr. Solo. We will have it, too."

"I can't fucking let you take over my whole life. You or …" I glared at Ben. "I just can't." I grabbed the NDA and signed it. "Take me home. I won't say a fucking word to anyone about this whole thing."

Mitch opened his laptop and pressed the mousepad. He turned the laptop toward me. A video feed emerged. There was a crowd outside my building. The police were moving people off. As some walked away, others tried to shove their way in.

"Ben Solo lives here," someone said close to the mic.

"And that girl he was with."

"The tall girl?"

"No, the smaller one with the brown hair. That's his girlfriend. It was on Twitter. Shit, we gotta move."

Ben touched my hand, then put his arm around me. He drew me close, almost against my will. "Rey, that's what's waiting for you. They know what you look like. Even with the cops there, it's not a good idea to go home right now."

Tears gathered in my eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said and pulled me close for a hug. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't want this," I whispered into his shirt.

"Welcome to the club."

Ben told his team we were going to take a time-out. He led me to the kitchen, where yet another staff member was cooking. He introduced me to Chef Martin, who stood there fierce in a chef's uniform. He was sharpening knives.

Ben went to the refrigerator and pulled out supplies to make sandwiches. Chef Martin barked at him.

"Mr. Solo, remove yourself from my refrigerator, please. I will make the sandwiches."

Ben set the fixings down on the giant butcher block. "Have it your way, Chef," Ben said, mildly.

"I certainly will. Shoo."

Ben and I sat at a kitchen table and watched the chef make sandwiches with rapid ease. He plunked them down on the table and returned with a selection of drinks.

We ate in silence. Ben snuck glances at me to see if I was all right. Food always helped my frame of mind.

After clearing our plates, Chef said, "Save room for dinner, Mr. Solo, Miss Jackson. I will prepare filet mignon with wild mushrooms, pilaf, braised root vegetables perhaps, and micro-green salads. Wine from the cellar, of course. Perhaps a rich Zinfandel. Or cabernet. Your choice. I can open both and let you taste, Miss."

"Sounds good," I murmured, stealing a glance at a smirking Ben Solo.

"At least the cage we live in is gilded," he said. "Ask nicely and he'll make a light, fluffy chocolate mousse with homemade whipped cream. It's so good. And I don't even like sweets."

I did, especially chocolate, and my mouth was watering.

Temptation loomed, but I shook my head. "Ben, we need to talk privately," I said.

He hesitated for a moment. "All right, let's go upstairs to my suite."

After thanking Chef Martin, I followed Ben up to the same room I had been in before. "Is this the suite you shared with your ex?" I asked as we walked inside.

Ben closed the French doors behind us. "No, that was down the hall. This isn't the master."

I couldn't believe it. This suite was opulent with tray ceilings and expensive finishes on everything. The light fixture alone with its sparking crystals must have cost a small fortune.

I walked up to Ben and put my hands on his arms. He gazed at me sadly. I steeled myself. "I can't stay. I can't do this, Ben."

He sighed and pulled me close. I let him enfold me in his arms. He bent down to put his face next to mine. He mumbled into my neck, "Can we not talk about this right now? Can I just hold you close? Maybe touch each other like we did before."

"In bed?"

He straightened up and nodded, his eyes a little bright. He sniffed and looked away.

I tried to step back from him, but his arms were locked around me. He didn't seem inclined to let me go. "How can we do that, Ben? There are people all over this house. Some are waiting for us to return."

"I bet you a million dollars that they won't disturb us," he said, his face set in hard lines.

"I don't have a million dollars."

"Stick with me, baby…" he said.

"Sex is not going to solve our issues," I said.

"So the fuck what? I feel so disconnected from you, Rey. You look at me like I'm not … like I don't …" He stopped. "Please."

I nodded. Ben took my hand and pulled me into the next room. We lay together on the big bed, gently kissing and nuzzling each other. We took off our clothes to touch skin-to-skin, as close as we could get to one another.

"Don't go," Ben whispered into my lips as we kissed, bodies pressed together. "Don't leave. Please."

I gazed into his eyes and realized how lonely he really was. He seemed to have no one who really gave a shit about him. Staff members, yes. People who were paid to take care of him. Where were his friends, his family, people he could be real with? I had read on the Internet that he was estranged from his family, who didn't approve of his choice of career. He was trying to navigate unprecedented and unexpected fame all by himself.

"I'm here," I told him, holding his gaze. "I'm here."

Ben breathed a sigh and ducked his head to capture my lips again. His kisses were deep and desperate. He pleasured me in every way he could think of. He covered my body with kisses and tenderly ate me until I cried his name. He cherished me in his arms while thrusting himself inside me, pleasing both of us. I pushed him over so I could ride him and play with myself, but he moved my hand and thumbed me until I came again. Then he slowed himself down to prolong the sweet sensation and return us to our face-to-face position. As he stroked inside me, Ben kissed me, and pushed his tongue inside my mouth as he filled my body. I felt rooted, strong, fully loved, deeply connected. The moment he came, I swallowed his cries and pressed kisses all over his beard and mustache. My love, my man. A regular guy when we were alone.

We napped. I awoke to a throbbing wrist.

Ben turned on a lamp, got me some aspirin, and lay back down with me.

I knew at that moment that Ben was there for me completely. He would do everything in his power to make sure I could handle his fame. Even though our situation was unexpected and difficult, Ben would anchor me. I could hold him tight and be all right in this storm.

We twined fingers, as we liked to do, and talked.

"If you could live anywhere," I asked. "Where would you go?"

"In an apartment in the city. I love your apartment. I'd be fine with living there. I don't need a fucking penthouse." He kissed my fingers. "Anywhere you decorate is good. I like your yellow wall and orange curtains. It's cheerful." He pointed at the furniture in the room. "This place looks like a fucking museum."

"Would you like neighbors?"

"If they don't mob me or dox me, sure. I liked the people in our building. They didn't bother me."

"Except the kids who went for your privates," I said.

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess that was okay, too. I like kids, but they are usually scared of me." He smiled to himself. "One little guy seemed like he was going to freak out. He said to his mom, 'that's Kylo Ren, he's going to kill us all.' That upset me. What a thing to believe. I remember I knelt right in front of him and told him that Kylo was a superhero on a secret mission. He was really named Ben. I said 'that's me.' I told him that, as Kylo, I had to pretend to be bad to carry out secret orders."

I smiled at that. Ben Solo wanted to play a hero, not a villain. And because of the storyline, he hadn't gotten a chance to be good Kylo for more than a few minutes onscreen before the fucking screenwriters killed him off.

I snuggled against him. "You're my hero, Ben Solo."

He kissed me. "Thank you, my Rey. I hope to be your hero for a long time."

I sighed softly. "Are we falling in love?"

Ben's eyes were bright and full of warmth. "I'm already there, Rey. I am. I was from the moment you told me to sit my ass back down, that you weren't going to out me. I knew then. You are the woman for me. I tried and failed to leave you alone. So, fuck it. I love you." He leaned in for a kiss. "Do you love me?"

Someone knocked on the door.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ben yelled. "I'm going to kill someone."

"Calm down," I said. "They've been waiting on us for a minute here. Go talk to them."

He yanked on his pants and padded to the door, turning on a light in the outer room. I covered up.

I heard him talking in low dangerous tones. Then he padded back in. "Fuck. They need you. Mitch wants to start the cleanse, or whatever it is."

I jumped up and put on my clothes. We went downstairs again back to the room with Ben's people and the big conference table. They appeared weary. I felt bad. I'd been having amazing orgasms while they sat and worked. That kind of shit would have to stop. Ben was going to have to be more aware of how he treated his employees.

Mitch cleared his throat. "Miss Jackson, if you give Lily your key, she can bring you whatever you require from your apartment for tonight. Though I would like to stop the spread of information on the web, I do understand the emotional toll this situation may be taking on you. If you need an overnight, we can do that. We just need you to turn off your phone."

"I can manage that." I fished out my phone and turned it off. "That's no problem."

Mitch scrubbed a hand down his face. He seemed tired and stressed. "We are also asking Mr. Solo to move out of the penthouse to another location in the city. We will be locating options for him in the next few days. You may choose to stay where you are or move elsewhere, too. However, if you stay, you may still have security issues. Please be aware that we are not authorized to protect you without a contract."

I looked at Ben. He didn't move a muscle, just stared at me, his whiskey brown eyes serious. He wasn't going to make this decision for me. I knew where he stood. He was clearly finished pleading any kind of case. Where did I stand? What did I want?

"What buildings are you considering? What are the requirements?" I asked Mitch.

"We have security needs that may involve renovations."

"No, what are you exploring in terms of location, tenants, amenities, etc.?"

Mitch flicked his eyes over to Ben. "I'm not sure."

"Well," I said, "Ben needs a family-friendly building with people who are used to celebrity renters. Do not choose a place that requires a huge renovation to accommodate security or other amenities, since the mess and noise makes residents dislike celeb neighbors. If Ben needs a workout space, please make sure there is one—a private space would be optimal. He should not have to contend with residents while he is working out. Please make sure the building has a garage for his car. A private elevator would be useful but not required. Also, please look for a rooftop terrace so Ben has access to fresh air in a controlled environment. Again, for Ben's sake, the building should already be celeb-friendly, that is, with tenants who won't gawk, ask questions, or demand autographs. Am I making myself clear?"

Ben and Mitch were gaping at me. Miranda began to laugh. Lily started a round of slow applause.

Ben slammed his hand on the table. "That's it, Mitch, Lily, Miranda. Marching orders. Go get Rey's stuff. She will be staying." He leaned over for a kiss. "You're getting the hang of this already."

After dinner, wearing my own pajamas and sitting in Ben's suite, I set up my new electronics and bitched about having to transfer files without using One Drive on Word. My old Microsoft account was history. Ben sat next to me on the sectional, reading a script. He looked up every so often to smile at me or rub my shoulders with his big hands.

When I was satisfied that the electronics were working up to specs, I snuggled up to Ben. "I think we got interrupted very rudely by your people."

He put the script down. "Your people, too."

"Our people," I said. "I did not get to tell you how much I absolutely adore you, my average Midwestern guy."

Ben nuzzled me with his nose and pressed tiny kisses on my temple. "Do you love me, Rey?"

"Yes, ever since you got my mail for me. I love you so much, Ben Solo. I love you in all your roles. As the actor who shows up for all his scenes, the celeb who gets mobbed, the man who comes to my door, the average guy from the Midwest who fell into fame headfirst and is doing the best he can."

He rubbed my temple with his beard. "Even if I have to shave?"

I looked up at him. "What?"

He raised his eyebrows at me and grinned. "Sometimes I do have to shave it all off, you know."

"No," I said. "Absolutely not. Turn those roles down."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and winked at me, that crazy little tiny flutter of his eye. The man did not know how to wink. I loved him all the more for it.

We both wore hats, hoodies, and thick coats to visit a building not too far from the place where we met. Payments were made, the lease signed. We were in.

First thing we did was paint one wall lemon yellow. Ourselves. Oh, we could have had painters do it for us, but I was on a mission to make Ben feel like a regular guy again. It involved paint and manual labor, hanging pictures and curtains, decorating our own nest by ourselves. It involved Sunday dinners with my grandfather at his house in Mott Park. It involved finding friends who didn't care what Ben Solo did for a living, like his buddies from acting school and my big-city writer friends, who were so not impressed by anything. It involved a private wedding ceremony of two soulmates, the famous and not famous, who kept each other grounded, protected, and forever loved.