“You’re good at dealing with people,” Rick said.
Allen snorted. “I’m good at being polite while I’m dying inside.”
Rick’s mouth twitched. “That’s still a skill.”
Allen’s cheeks turned pink, and he looked down at the table, his finger tracing a pattern on the tablecloth. Allen asked aboutmusic next, careful with it, as if he didn’t want to upset Rick, which he appreciated.
“So… are you working on anything?” Allen asked.
Rick kept his face steady. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?” Allen’s eyes held his.
Rick nodded. “Writing. Trying to.”
Allen waited, giving him space. It was annoying how good Allen was at that. Most people filled the silence, but Allen didn’t. He simply gave Rick time to gather his thoughts.
Rick cleared his throat. “It’s slow. It’s not like it was.”
Allen nodded once. “Do you miss it?”
Rick should have lied. He should have made some excuse or shrugged it off and said it was fine, but he didn’t. “Yeah,” Rick said.
“I’m sorry.”
Rick watched his face. There was no pity, and Rick appreciated that. He held Allen’s gaze for a second longer than normal, but Allen didn’t look away.
The food arrived, and they talked between bites. The conversation stayed on normal topics. Rick asked questions and remembered the answers. Allen told him about his friends, and Rick filed the names away without effort.
Jamie. Mark. Connor.
“They’re protective,” Allen said with a small smile.
Rick nodded. “They should be.”
Allen arched his eyebrows. “Why?”
Rick kept his tone even. “Because people aren’t always what they look like.” Allen stared at him for a second, then looked down at his plate, and Rick realized how that could have sounded, so he added, “I mean… you’re young. You’re a good guy. People can take advantage of it.”
Allen’s cheeks reddened. “I’m not helpless.”
Rick watched him. “I know. It’s just that I’ve seen things in the music business. That’s all.”
The words came out calm, but something in Rick’s chest tightened. He didn’t like the idea of Allen being naïve and gullible, and too trusting. He especially didn’t like the idea of someone else getting to him first. It wasn’t a thought Rick wanted to have, but he did have it.
Later, the waiter came by with the check, and Rick paid without making it a big deal. Allen reached for his wallet.
“I can pay—”
Rick shook his head. “I asked you out.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“It means I want to,” Rick told him.
Allen hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”
When they left, the air outside had turned cold. Rick walked beside Allen, close but not too close. He didn’t want to crowd him, even though he did want to be close to him. They moved down the sidewalk in silence for a minute, the streetlights throwing soft pools of light. A couple passed them, and Allen glanced over and then forward again.
