Anne glanced at Anson in front of her and exhaled unconsciously. She slowed her movements and finally managed to put on her coat properly.
Pausing briefly, she walked up to him and looked around.
"No taxis at all?"
Anson sighed softly. "There are probably taxis everywhere, just none for me."
Anne couldn't help but laugh out loud.
Anson turned his gaze to her. "Why are you out here? Where are your friends?"
Anne shook her head. "We're not friends…." She paused. "We're just Hollywood friends. They can survive just fine without me."
Quick-witted.
Anson's face lit up with a smile.
Anne noticed and couldn't help smiling herself before quickly looking away to hide it. "The snow has stopped. If we wait a bit, a taxi should come by."
Anson said, "No, I plan to take the subway."
Anne was surprised. "The subway? Aren't you worried about being recognized?"
Anson shook his head. "Not at all."
She looked skeptical.
"Imagine this," he said. "You're a commuter, exhausted after a full day's work, your mind blank as you finally get on the subway during rush hour. Lost in the chaos, would you even notice who's next to you?"
"To be honest, most people don't even care if the person squished beside them is a man or a woman."
Anne tried to picture it but struggled. The idea of peak-hour subway crowds was almost incomprehensible to her. "How do you know all this?"
Anson shrugged casually. "I've been commuting by subway every day lately to prepare for a role. No way I'm driving my Lamborghini just to experience this."
Anne burst into laughter.
Anson glanced at the growing traffic on the streets. "We need to move now. This is just the beginning of rush hour. Wait too long, and it'll turn into hell."
Anne frowned. "Why?"
"Do you think Manhattan office workers all leave work on time?" He gestured toward the brightly lit skyscrapers for the answer.
"Let's go!"
Without hesitation, Anson grabbed Anne's wrist and took off running.
Startled, Anne yelped but was yanked along before she could process what was happening.
The cold wind roared past, battering their ears as they sprinted like carefree children. The world blurred into streaks of vibrant light, hearts pounding, breaths quickening, and blood surging with an inexplicable euphoria.
Before they knew it, laughter spilled out, echoing in their chests.
They dashed into the subway station, weaving through the crowd.
Ahead, Anson didn't even pause at the turnstiles. Bracing his hands on the barrier, he vaulted over in one fluid motion.
It was only then that Anne realized she didn't have a ticket.
What now? What now?!
Always the well-behaved one, Anne froze. Logic told her to stop.
But impulse took over. Following Anson's lead, she supported herself on the turnstile and leaped over gracefully.
She landed to see Anson adjusting his guitar with an exhilarated grin, urging her, "Hurry, hurry!"
Anne, now a ball of energy, grabbed his hand and ran again.
The zombified crowd around them stared in stunned silence, parting instinctively as if witnessing a life-or-death chase.
Except… no one was chasing them.
The only conclusion?
Lunatics.
But Anne and Anson didn't care.
For Anne, who had never taken risks, adrenaline surged wildly. Even for such a small rebellion, guilt and exhilaration mixed into a heady cocktail.
She couldn't help but laugh as they ran.
They finally burst into a subway car just as the doors were about to close.
With no time to brake, Anne stumbled forward and crashed straight into Anson's chest.
A clean, woodsy scent enveloped her, soothing and warming her in a way she couldn't quite describe.
Her heartbeat vanished into the haze.
Unconsciously, she held her breath.
Fortunately, the embrace quickly loosened.
"Relax. No one's chasing us. You won't end up on Fox News," Anson quipped.
Anne's cheeks burned as she realized he must have heard her erratic heartbeat. She quickly stepped back to regain composure, only to be pulled back into his arms.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
She could clearly hear his heartbeat now.
"Sorry," Anson said softly.
Anne turned her head and realized someone had been standing behind her—her sudden retreat had almost caused a collision.
Looking around, she finally noticed how packed the subway car was. Though not shoulder-to-shoulder, the crowd felt overwhelming.
Was this not even peak hour?
Startled, Anne realized how foreign this scene was to her. Born and raised in New York, she'd taken the subway many times but never during rush hour. This was an entirely different New York.
Today's snow had worsened traffic, forcing more people underground. The car was bursting at the seams.
"Oh, I forgot to ask—what line do you live on?" Anson's question snapped her back to reality.
"What line are we on now?"
"Five."
"Don't worry. I can switch to the Seven… or maybe the L or E. I'll get home fine."
Finally, they found a spot to stand comfortably.
Anson subtly positioned himself to block onlookers' gazes, shielding Anne with his body. Unlike him, she wasn't disguised, and her distinctive features could easily draw attention.
"So," he asked nonchalantly, "why were you and your Hollywood friends all gathered tonight?"
Anne noticed his subtle protective gesture. At first, she didn't understand, but realization dawned, and a smile crept across her face.
"An audition. We were all there for the same project. I think I mentioned it earlier, but you probably forgot."
Oops. She immediately regretted bringing it up.