Well, we hadn’t frequented any restaurants and I didn’t remember any Italian food—unless he was talking about the one time we went to an Olive Garden somewhere during the third leg of our tour because one of the road crew had suggested it. So I simply said, “I can’t wait.”
When we got to the restaurant, Braden managed to find a spot for the white minivan near the front, and he insisted upon opening the door for me. In fact, he asked me not to get out until he did. While that wasn’t my style, I kept reminding myself that Braden deserved to be treated like a prince—and that meant I’d let him be as chivalrous as he liked.
It included opening the doors to the restaurant for me as we walked in as well.
If Braden and I were going to make it as a couple, I wouldn’t be able to stand him doing this constantly. But tonight was for him.
Approaching the hostess, he said, “Two for Mitchell.”
The middle-aged woman looked down at a list on the podium where she stood and said, “Yes. Let me make sure we have a table ready for you.”
Hmm. Maybe theywereall that. Braden seemed to think so. And the restaurant was filled with the smell of marinara and garlic, and suddenly I felt famished.
Less than a minute later, the hostess was leading us through the restaurant thatwasbusy, but not every table was filled, so I wondered if her checking was just for show. She even offered us a wine list, not realizing I was still a minor.
I didn’t want any alcohol anyway. Zack had managed to ruin that for all of us.
As we opened the menu, a young man approached our table, turning over the lovely goblets on the table covered incream linen to fill them with ice water. And then he said, “No way!”
Both Braden and I looked up from our menus.
The man said, “You guys are in Once Upon a Riot!”
We both saidyesat the same time. I imagined my expression looked much like Braden’s—eager and happy, even with all the unexpected weight that had come with being in a band. While we didn’t do it for the recognition, it was kind of exciting to have someone know who we were.
“I read that you guys were from here, but I didn’t think I’d see you around.” The black-haired man, not much older than the two of us, was grinning from ear to ear.
Braden said, “We lived in Denver for a while.”
“Dude, that’s so awesome. I bought—”
Just then, the waiter appeared at our table. He wore a crisp black-and-white uniform with touches of red—and he didn’t need to say a word. Both we and the busboy got the message that he needed to skedaddle and tend to other customers. Braden raised an eyebrow at me as if saying he was sorry that he’d brought me to a place where we couldn’t relax.
Or maybe that was just me. Just as we’d started to have fun…
“Hello. My name is Randall and I’ll be serving you tonight. Would you like to order any starters or do you need more time with the menu?”
“Dani, get whatever you want, but I’d like a salad with the house dressing.”
I trusted Braden. Already I’d noticed things likelinguine alle vongoleon the menu, a food I never wanted to try based on the description, and needed to spend a lot more time finding something I’d enjoy—which I knew I would, but I didn’t want the added pressure of choosing an appetizer. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.”
“I’ll bring those shortly.”
Almost as soon as he was gone, the busboy whizzed by again, giving us what he thought was a covert thumbs up. I couldn’t help but smile at him, but I hoped he wasn’t jeopardizing his job by being overly friendly with us. I whispered to Braden, “We should probably give him our autograph before we leave.”
Nodding, he smiled so warmly at me—reminding me of what a sweet soul he was. Back in high school, he’d seemed like Zack’s faithful companion, only there to validate his friend’s thoughts and feelings, but he’d really grown into his own. And I’d been so blinded by Zack’s aura that I’d never really thought of Braden as his own person. I thought that said something aboutme—all this railing over the past year about wanting to be appreciated for who I was despite my gender, and I’d been doing the same goddamned thing to Braden, not valuing him for who he was.
I would do better, starting today.
“Did you change your mind?” he asked.
Oh—he was talking about the autograph and my brain’s trip down memory lane had marred my expression. I had to get better about that. “No, I think we should. It’s kind of cool being noticedherein Dalton after only being recognized either right before or after shows far from home.”
“Yeah. Well, like the label guys said, we’re finally charting and getting streams and stuff. The more that happens, the more people will figure out who we are.”
I tried not to think about it. How would I deal with real fame?
I asked, “What are you going to get?”
