Page 31 of For One Night Only

My stomach unclenches a little, and I let out a long breath. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

He clears his throat. “So…do you want to go grab dinner and talk through some things? Just the two of us?”

I flush. “Are you sure? If we’re seen, that’ll start more rumors.”

He rolls his shoulders, then nods. “Don’t we want to encourage those anyway?”

It’s more than I’d hoped for. I sink onto his chair and tuck my feet under me, still anxious. “We should talk about it more before we decide to do anything. I know you’re already uncomfortable with this reunion, and it wasn’t fair of me to throw this at you. I feel like I forced you into it.”

He smiles, and it makes my knees a little weak. God, I needto keep it together. “We should talk about it. You can tell me everything your publicist said, and I’ll make an informed decision after that. Besides, I’m already here for the reunion and, well…it’s not like the fans aren’t talking about us anyway. What’s a little acting for the cameras?”

Acting.Right. “I’d love to grab dinner and tell you all about it. What did you have in mind?”

“Thai?”

“Oh my gosh, yes. There’s a great place a couple blocks from here.”

“Sounds perfect. Meet back here in ten?”

“Fifteen,” I say. I really should shower, but at least I can change into fresh clothes and touch up my makeup.

“Of course,” he laughs as I slip into my own room.

After I’ve changed and popped back over to meet him, I feel less anxious about invading his space—it’s more like we’re our old selves, constantly in each other’s orbit. Jane texts us that the rest of the band went to get sushi, so we feel fine going to do our own thing. We decide it’s best to call a car this time, and it’s not long before we’re on our way to Thai food.

The restaurant is quiet since it’s on the early side for dinner, but hopefully that means we can escape without incident. Soft overhead lights cast a warm glow around the dining room, and we tuck ourselves away in a green vinyl booth in the back. I order the spiciest noodle dish on the menu, while Caleb sticks to a milder curry.

“Come on, the spice is good for your sinuses,” I joke as we hand menus off to the waiter.

“And terrible for my stomach, thank you,” he says.

“Fine, fine. I respect that.”

We make small talk as we wait for our food to arrive, which happens in record time. But we stay carefully away from talk about the industry as we start to eat. He tells me more about teaching,and his family, and I learn all about the trials and tribulations of running a social media strategy for a dog. Once he’s relaxed, leaning against the back of the pleather seat and smiling across the table at me, I tell him what my publicist said: that my bad reputation has a lot to do with who I date, but just the appearance of being with someone as well-liked as Caleb could go a long way to improving my status in the public eye.

“Okay. Let’s do it,” he says, before leaning in for another bite of curry, like he’s agreeing to the most innocuous thing in the world. I’m so surprised that I stutter, and I have to take a sip of my iced tea to steel myself.

“Okay, so ground rules,” I say, clearing my throat. “We’ll let the media speculate about our relationship, but we’re not going to do anything either of us is uncomfortable with. Holding hands should be fine? Probably no kissing.”

“Right,” he says, flushing a little. But maybe that’s just because it’s warm in the restaurant.

My mouth goes dry, but I know we need to set this next boundary, even if it hurts. “We’ll send any serious band-related inquiries through Wade, but we won’t even hint at a new album—or any future for the band after the concert.”

“Yes, I won’t budge on that. No tours, no albums, nothing after August 15,” Caleb says, and my heart sinks. But I know it’s for the best. “We’ll make sure the others are in at brunch tomorrow.”

It’s best if we all make this decision as a group. We might not be a family anymore, but we used to be. This was never just about me and Caleb.

“Agreed,” I say. “And now I need dessert.”

There’s an incredible cupcake place just down the block, so I pay the bill before Caleb can protest.

“You know I’m not destitute, right? I can pay for my own dinner,” he grumbles, but I don’t miss the relief in his eyes. The checkwasn’t an insignificant factor in getting him to agree to the reunion.

But I also know Caleb has a little pride. His family always struggled a bit, and he took a lot of responsibility for making his own money and contributing when he could, even before the Glitter Bats. I wonder if he still does that, or if his mom has stepped up and actually takes care of Carrie.

“Think of it as an apology dinner,” I say. “And if you’re really bothered by it, you can buy my cupcakes.”

Once the server comes back with my card, I leave a tip and lead the way out of the restaurant and down to Magic Cupcake.

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