“What look?”
“TheI’m sitting on something huge and pretending it’s casuallook.”
I grin, but before I can answer, he tilts his head slightly, studying me in that quiet, unnerving way he does when he’s thinking too hard. “Why are you here, Rafe?”
That catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I meanhere.” He gestures vaguely, a small circle in the air. “Vegas. The game. You didn’t tell me you were coming. I look up in the middle of the biggest game of my life, and there you are, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.”
He exhales and leans back. His voice drops. “It threw me. In the best way. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me before.”
Something in my chest stutters. “Done what?”
“Showed up,” he says simply. “Not because they had to—because theywantedto.” His mouth twists in a half smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “My parents never make it to home games, let alone away games. Not even in high school. My friends text. My teammates have their own people in the stands. But you…” He stops, and there’s a flicker of disbelief in his tone. “You got on a plane, you sat in that arena, and you watched me. I saw you. I couldn’t believe it.”
The words hit harder than I expect. I shift my mug aside because my hands have gone still.
“Ollie—”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he cuts in, smiling almost shyly now. “It just… it meant more than I can explain. When the game got tight, when I thought I was losing my edge, I looked up again and saw you. And it felt like…” He pauses, searching for words. “Like I wasn’t alone out there. That’s new for me.”
My throat goes tight. “You’re gonna wreck me before my caffeine kicks in.”
He huffs a laugh. “Guess we’re even, then.”
I reach across the table, thumb brushing the side of his wrist where his pulse flickers quick. “You’re not alone, okay? Not anymore.”
He looks down at where our hands touch, then back at me, eyes soft and bright. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Okay.”
I leave my hand there for another beat, until the tension in him uncoils a little, until he looks more like the guy who kissed me in a dark hallway and less like the one always fighting to breathe.
Then, finally, he exhales and says, “So, you gonna tell me what that look was about now?”
“Which one?”
“The I’ve-got-a-secret one.”
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “We’re playing tonight. Mirage Theater.”
The cup stops halfway to his lips. “Holy shit. You didn’t tell me you got a date.”
I shrug. “I wanted to keep it a surprise. I knew it meant we’d be here at the same time.”
For a moment, he just stares, eyes wide. Then he laughs—a full-bodied sound that cuts straight through the diner’s hum. “Rafe, that’s insane.” He lowers his voice. “You’re—holy shit—you’re doing it.”
“Trying to. Anthony says a few reps are coming. Labels, maybe. Or booking agents.” I stir my coffee, staring at the swirl. “If it goes right, it could mean touring. Studio time. Maybe more.”
“And if it goesreallyright?” he asks quietly.
I glance up and meet his eyes. “If it goes really right, I might not finish off the year.”
He leans back, blinking. “You’d drop out? You’re, what, two months from graduating?”
“Three,” I correct. “And I would in a heartbeat.”
The words taste strange, like saying them makes them real. “College was never the goal. Music was. I went to keep the peace—my parents wanted me to have a backup plan—but I’m not built for plan B.”
Ollie studies me, thoughtful. “They’d be okay with that?”
