Page 6 of Madness

"Music fan?" I ask, nodding towards her wrist.

She glances down as if surprised to see it there. "Oh, yeah," she says, a hint of something like sadness or nostalgia creeping into her voice. "It's... complicated."

Our eyes meet briefly, and there's a flicker of something between us. Not recognition, exactly, but a sort of shared understanding. Like we're both carrying weights we can't quite put down.

"Complicated. I get that," I say, more to myself than to her.

Lauren nods, her expression neutral. "Your food will be out soon," she says, turning and hurrying away.

As she walks back to the kitchen, I find my gaze following her. There's a story there, I realize. Or maybe a song. Not that it's any of my business.

"Earth to Dakota," Stefan says, kicking me under the table. "You with me? We need to talk about the upcoming tour schedule. Please don’t make me bunk with Emmett the entire trip this time. That dude is getting out of hand with his fucking pranks."

I tear my gaze away from Lauren, focusing on my bandmate. "Yeah, sorry. Where were we?"

As we dive into a discussion about our upcoming tour, I can't shake the feeling that something's shifted. Not in any big, dramatic way. Just a ripple. A minor disturbance in the world around me.

And for the first time in a while, I find myself curious about something other than the next album or show. I'm curious about someone else. Lauren, with her weary eyes and that mysterious treble clef tattoo. It's not a lot to go on, but it's different. Right now, being different feels like a step in the right direction.

Or maybe she's just the distraction I'm looking for. Something or someone to take my mind off everything.

Everyone.

Three years since Chloe. Maybe it's about time I moved on. Or at least tried to. And maybe this unexpected curiosity about a cute waitress is the first step. It's been so long since I've felt even a flicker of interest in anyone else.

But am I ready for that? Or am I just setting myself up for another fall?

5

THE PROPHECY

LAUREN

The lunch rush is finally winding down, and I lean against the counter, stealing a moment to catch my breath. My feet ache, I’m exhausted, and a dull throb behind my eyes promises a full-blown headache later. But none of that matters when I think about getting home to Roman.

As I'm wiping down the counter, I feel a presence nearby. I look up to see Dakota, the bassist from Chaos Fuel, standing there. His friend is nowhere to be seen and must have left. I’ve barely paid attention like I should with everything on my mind today.

"Everything okay?" I ask, straightening up, a familiar wariness creeping into my voice. LA is full of beautiful people, and Dakota is one of them. Even as tired as he looks, he’s gorgeous. Tall. Long hair. Tattoos. Handsome. Unfortunately, he’s just my type.

I catch myself admiring how his t-shirt clings to his shoulders, then immediately chastise myself. This is exactly how it started with Miles. But Dakota seems different somehow.

No. I can't afford to think like that again.

He shakes his head, a slight smile on his face. "No, just... wanted to say thanks. For the service, I mean."

"Oh," I say, surprised. "Well, you're welcome. It's my job, after all."

There's a moment of awkward silence, and I find myself studying him. Up close, I can see the shadows under his eyes, and the slight tremor in his hands. He really looks tired. Worn. It's all too familiar, and a knot forms in my stomach. I've seen this before with Miles. The small signs I chose to ignore until it was too late. Now, I find myself looking for them. I could be wrong, though. He could just really be tired.

"So," he says finally, "I don't think I've seen you here before. Do you usually work different hours?"

I nod, keeping my tone professional. "Yeah, I'm usually on the dinner shift. Covering for Lynn, who’s off today." I don’t say that I have seen him before, more than a few times. He’s just always been in a different section than mine. Why point out how unremarkable I apparently am to him?

"Ah," he says, nodding. There's something in his eyes that catches my attention. Curiosity, maybe? No. I've learned the hard way not to read too much into someone’s interest.

"Must be a change of pace," he continues, clearly trying to keep the conversation going.

For a moment, I'm tempted to let my guard down. To see him as just another person, not a potential threat to my hard-earned stability. But then I remember Miles, remember all the promises, all the disappointments, and especially the spiral that ended in tragedy. I can't go down that road again with another musician.

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