Page 63 of Taming the Rockstar

“Nah,” Allison gestures to the tiny blue mug next to her. “I’m good.”

I walk up to the counter and peruse the chalkboard menu; all the drinks are named after different tarot cards.

“Can I have an Empress?” I ask the disaffected barista. It’s an espresso tonic with fresh thyme and lavender syrups.

I pay for my drink and join Allison back at the table. She’s sitting with one leg tucked underneath her, absentmindedly texting.

“I’m telling my mom that the fame has yet to go to your head.”

“Yeah, cause I’m not the famous one, you goofball.”

“But still! What’s it like?”

“Exactly like every other tour I’ve been on, but with triple the budget, so we haven’t had to sleep in a parking lot in the bus this run,” I say. I don’t know what people are so interested in. No one was this invested in my tour with Oli June.

“Yeah, but this is like … historic! And Vince?!”

“I did not plan on that to happen at all.”

“Still!”

“I dunno. Al, I hate to break it to you, but he’s a pretty chill guy. He’s got a greyhound. We took her on a walk this morning. I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“What’s his house like?”

“Bougie. There is a mirror on the ceiling, but he claims it came with the house.”

“Did you?”

“Jesus Christ, Al! Yes, we’re having a good time.” The barista sets my drink on the table, and I take a sip.

“So that’s what you’re calling it these days.”

“I refuse to give you a play-by-play of my sex life.”

“That was fine when you were dating Connor, but now it’s interesting! Is he as wild as everyone says he is?”

“Yes and no. He’s adventurous, but he’s kinder than I expected.”

“The plot thickens.”

“There’s nothing to thicken!” I insist, my cheeks burning.

“I’m gonna get you to crack one day,” Allison declares, sipping her coffee.

“What about you? Is the envelope still on your dresser?”

“Yep. I still haven’t opened it. I like the idea of opening it on Thanksgiving. That way, if we end up having a terrible time, we have something concrete to blame.”

“If that’s what you want. You know I’ll support you every step of the way,” I reassure her. Allison reaches over and squeezes my hand.

My phone buzzes. It’s Vince.

“Vince is here,” I tell Allison, who immediately straightens up in her seat.

“Oh, shit! How do I look? How’s my hair?”

“You look great, seriously. Don’t stress about it.”

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