Something hot and languid spread through my veins.
For the first time since we sat down, I wished we were eating at home instead of in a restaurant. I wanted—
“Hi. I’m terribly sorry for interrupting, but—but are you Asher Donovan?”
Our heads turned in unison toward the breathless teenage boy standing next to our table. I hadn’t even heard him come up.
I witnessed Asher’s transformation in real time.
His relaxed posture straightened, and his mouth stretched into a polite, camera-ready smile. Shutters rolled down over his open expression.
It was still him, but it was a shiny, guarded version of him.
“Yes,” he said easily, his smile intact.
“Wow.” The boy’s eyes shone with star-struck wonder. “I can’t believe you’re here. Can I get your autograph?” He shoved a napkin and pen at Asher. “I’m a huge fan.”
“Of course.” Asher signed the napkin, and the one after that, and the one after that.
After the boy approached us, the rest of the diners realized who was eating in their midst and clamored for their turn.
The mood shifted so quickly and drastically that neither of us was ready for the onslaught. An overly enthusiastic fan nearly knocked me out of my chair in their eagerness to get to him, and I had to shield my face with a menu to avoid getting caught in the background of their pictures.
After ten minutes of chaos, the restaurant owner finally pushed through the crowd and forced everyone back to their seats. He apologized to us profusely, and then asked for a picture with Asher to hang on their wall.
Dinner was officially over.
We quickly paid and left, but the anxiety I’d pushed aside earlier resurfaced even after we made it safely to Asher’s car. It wound tight in my chest, cutting off my supply of oxygen.
“I’m sorry about that.” Worry passed over his face. “I honestly didn’t think anyone would recognize me. But once one person does…”
“It’s okay,” I said with a shaky smile. “He was a teenager. They have sharklike instincts when it comes to their idols.”
We didn’t say what we were both thinking, which was that the restaurant had only been a taste of what was to come if the press found out about us. Fortunately, the diners had been too busy fawning over Asher to ask who I was, but it was only a matter of time.
Still, it could’ve been worse. I wasn’t hurt (minus a few accidental elbow jabs and handbag swings), and no one caught me on camera. Even if they did, I’d live in their phone’s camera roll instead of the tabloids.
In the grand scheme of things, our obstacles weren’t insurmountable.
We’d talked it out, and everything would be fine.
I was sure of it.
CHAPTER 27ASHER
Have you guys ever heard of Wilma Pebbles?
ADIL
Is she a model? She sounds hot in a Flintstones kinda way
She’s an author
ADIL
Oh
ADIL
Does she model on the side?
NOAH
You’re an idiot
NOAH
I never should’ve unblocked you
ADIL
Your life would be so boring without me and you know it
ADIL
It’d be like cardboard without glitter. Ice cream without sugar. Pizza without olives.
