Allen hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
Jamie leaned in closer. “Go on.”
Allen’s throat felt tight, and he took a deep breath and said, “I met a guy.”
Connor lifted an eyebrow. “Met where?”
“Here,” Allen said, and immediately regretted how that sounded. “Not like… not like I went out looking. It was busy, and he asked if he could share my table.”
Mark’s smile widened. “That’s kind of cute.”
Connor’s lips flattened. “Or it’s a guy who doesn’t understand personal space.”
Allen shot him a look. “It was busy. There were no seats.”
Jamie waved a hand. “Alright, alright. Who is he?”
Allen took a sip of chai to buy himself a second. “His name’s Rick.” That meant nothing to them, and Allen knew it. “He’s forty.”
Jamie’s head jerked back, and he looked at the other two. “Forty.”
Mark blinked. His mouth opened, then closed. “Okay.”
Connor frowned. “That’s a bit of a gap.”
Allen tightened his grip on his cup and nodded. “I know.”
Jamie stared at him for a second longer, then asked, “Is he divorced?”
“No.” Allen shook his head. “No. He’s single.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”
Allen hesitated. “We talked,” he murmured.
“That didn’t answer the question,” Connor said.
Allen’s face felt like it was burning up. “He said he’s single.”
Jamie hummed, then asked, “What does he do?”
Allen’s stomach flipped because here it was. The part he hadn’t figured out how to say casually. “He… does music,” Allen said, keeping his tone level and taking another sip of his drink.
Mark’s eyes widened a little. “Like, he’s in a band?”
Allen shook his head. “He’s solo.”
Connor’s expression didn’t change. “So he’s a musician.”
Jamie leaned forward again. “Is he, like… good?”
Allen snorted. “Yes.”
Jamie smirked. “That wasn’t what I asked.”
Allen stared at him, then sighed. “He had a hit. Years ago.”
Mark’s eyebrows lifted. “A hit hit?”
