"Isn’t one of the guys with Irina Carmichael?" she asked, squirming a bit, and then setting her stuff back on the bench because she would totally stay to meet Irina.
He nodded. "She’s great. You’ll love her."
Her mouth dropped open, and she could not get it to close.
This was like one of those waking dreams where a person knew they were dreaming and still wasn’t certain if it was going to be a nightmare or a really great story.
"Don’t worry. The seating’s all set with them. You don’t have to do a thing." He smiled like this was a good thing.
"Irina Carmichael isfamous," Darla pointed out, actually pressing her fingertip to the resin-covered table.
Amusement now danced in his eyes. "She is."
"I’m actually gonna meet her? In person?" She didn’t mean to sound so excited, but she definitely couldn’t hold it back.
If the date wasn’t real, at least this part would make a really great story. ShelovedIrina Carmichael.
"Uh-huh." He toyed with the wrapper from his beer bottle.
"She’s amazing. I am a huge fan." Darla may not be on a date with a future partner, but this was pretty amazing.
"You know, some might say that I’m kind of a big deal, too," he said.
"Yeah, totally." She gave him a nod and took a sip of club soda. "You so are." She toyed with the straw and then said, "I’ll stick around until the set is done."
She would do this. She would even have fun. There was no risk on this date anymore. It wasn’t going anywhere. So she could let this rockstar buy her a drink, play some songs, and then she could move on with her life. Bonus, she’d meet a movie star.
Life was full of other opportunities. This one didn’t have to suck.
But another glance at her rockstar for the night—the way his eyes danced and just… the whole package. Her heart tried to pitter-patter more quickly.
She forced it to settle down. No pitter-pattering or flitter-fluttering allowed with this one. Ever.
Chapter Two
MACH
Darla’spink lips wrapped around the plastic straw in her drink and damn, but his body took notice. He could not pull his gaze away as she took a long pull of her club soda, then another.
What the hell was wrong with him? He shifted in his seat.
Mach could be an ass. He admitted it. He made snap decisions and stuck with them even if they were disastrous—usually, though, things turned out just fine. Sometimes they didn’t.
Like this night with Darla.
Honest to hell, he thought she understood the game. That she didn’t? That she came here expecting to meet some dickface named Mach and maybe try to make a life with him? At least go out a few times? Well, that sat heavy on his chest.
His one redeeming quality? He did like to think he was areasonableass.
After all, he wanted everyone around him to be comfortable, including Darla. Mach adapted to all situations. He was an excellent chameleon like that. This was an effective tool cultivated early on in his life and sharpened when he joined up with Dimefront.
He’d whip it out for Darla tonight, make sure she had a good time.
And the best way to get a person comfortable so they’d enjoy the moment was to get them to talk about themselves.
"So you’ve got some strong opinions on music. I like it," he said. Because he did. The whole point of music was how subjective it could be. One person loved jazz, another dug Taylor Swift. There wasn’t a rule that everyone had to adore Dimefront.
"Do you play?" he asked.
