Page 53 of Bitter Beats

A reminder of the guy from Whole Foods flickers through my mind.

The possibility of running into my mom or dad causes dread to settle in the pit of my stomach.What would I say? What would they do?

A lick of fear runs up my back, and I shiver.

Alfred approaches the restaurant and catches my eyes in the rearview mirror. “Have a good dinner, Kenny.”

“Thanks, Alfred.” I manage a smile.

Mav extends his hand, and I pause to glance at him.

His blue eyes swim with an emotion I can’t place, and I steel my spine, find my resolve, and tuck my hand in his as he helps me from the car.

Mav’s hand is large and steady on mine. His fingers grip mine loosely, and he gives a little squeeze. It settles me, and I relax into his touch, surprised when he doesn’t release me but draws me closer.

On some level, Mav and I are in this together. After months of shouldering everything solo, it feels nice to have someone else relate. To have someone understand my confusion. My uncertainty. Even if that someone is Mav.

We enter The Ivy as a couple.

The heat of Mav’s body presses into mine. His grip on my hand roots me to the moment.

My nerves ping-pong, and my heart rate jumps. My mouth dries, and my mind whirls.

The bustle of the restaurant—moving bodies and quiet conversation, craning necks, and genuine laughter—wraps around me.

Mav exchanges a few words with the hostess, who leads us through the restaurant. My body tenses as I recognize several faces. Friends of my parents, acquaintances who used to run in my social circles.

Will my parents care that I’m dating Mav? Will they call me to learn more? Will they want to meet him?

I drop my head as my shoulders bunch around my ears.I retreat into myself like a turtle hiding in its shell.

Mav squeezes my hand again, and I glance up. His eyes hold a note of compassion, a thread of worry. “I got you,” he murmurs the words quietly.

As the hostess leads us to the table, I catch whispers from dining patrons.

“Caught cheating on her husband. Had to be his fault. Look at him.”

“Seduced her. Yes, Senator Hayes’s wife. Angela.”

“A scandal! He wanted to run for President. That guy ruined his career.”

“Well, he’s a rockstar. What did everyone expect?”

Realizing that they’re dissecting Maverick, and not me, I straighten. Glare at a table I pass. Frown at a woman I recognize from the tennis club. How dare these people blame Maverick for what happened with the Senator’s wife? How is it only his fault?

Staring at the back of Mav’s head, his chin held high, I realize he’s trying to protect me even though he’s the one being ripped apart. I squeeze his fingers, brushing my thumb over his knuckles in solidarity.

He turns, flashing me a grin over his shoulder. But in his eyes, I note a hint of hurt, a dash of gratitude. I smile back.

When I do, I spot the table that looms ahead. Allegra stands and tosses her napkin next to her plate. Relief floods my limbs, and my smile widens.

Allegra envelops me in a hug, and I clutch my old roommate as if it’s been months and not a day since I’ve last seen her.

“You okay?” she murmurs.

“Of course,” I reply, pulling back.

Her eyes narrow.

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