Chapter Six
“The meeting was a fluke,” Allen told himself. A busy café and no tables. A random conversation that had only felt intense because Allen had been alone and tired. He’d gone home that night with Rick’s number in his phone and a strange feeling in his body that he couldn’t explain.
The week dragged on with calls and complaints and customers who acted as if Allen had personally ruined their lives. He did what he always did. He kept his tone calm, repeated the same sentences, took the abuse, and moved on.
At lunch, he sat in the break room with the meal he’d prepped over the weekend, and scrolled through his phone, not really looking at anything. His phone buzzed, and Allen’s heart jumped when he saw the message from Rick.
You working today?
Allen stared at the message, thumb hovering. He didn’t want to reply too fast, so he waited a minute before responding. Yeah. You?
Gym, then writing. You drinking chai?
Allen snorted quietly and typed back. It’s not a personality trait. It’s a drink I like.
I think it is.
Allen rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop himself from smiling.
He met Jamie, Mark, and Connor at the same café after work. This time they were actually there, already seated at the back table. Allen walked over with his chai and slid into his chair, trying to act normal.
Jamie took one look at him and narrowed his eyes. “Alright. What’s up with you?”
Allen blinked. “Nothing.”
Connor snorted. “That’s not true.”
“You’re smiling.” Mark leaned forward slightly.
Allen’s cheeks heated up. He tried to straighten his face and failed. “I’m not.”
Jamie pointed at him. “You are and you’ve been on your phone all week.”
Allen stared. “How would you know that?”
“Because you’ve messaged me back in thirty seconds every time for the last ten years,” Jamie said. “This week you’ve been taking five minutes like you’re busy.”
Allen opened his mouth, then shut it again. He hated that they knew him that well. “I don’t know what you mean,” he mumbled as he took a sip of his drink.
Connor watched him, expression sharpening as he grinned. “Someone.”
Allen exhaled and rubbed his thumb along the edge of his cup. “It’s not… serious.”
Mark smiled slightly. “But it’s someone.”
Allen hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
Jamie leaned in closer. “Go on.”
Allen’s throat felt tight, and he took a deep breath and said, “I met a guy.”
Connor lifted an eyebrow. “Met where?”
“Here,” Allen said, and immediately regretted how that sounded. “Not like… not like I went out looking. It was busy, and he asked if he could share my table.”
Mark’s smile widened. “That’s kind of cute.”
Connor’s lips flattened. “Or it’s a guy who doesn’t understand personal space.”
Allen shot him a look. “It was busy. There were no seats.”
Jamie waved a hand. “Alright, alright. Who is he?”
Allen took a sip of chai to buy himself a second. “His name’s Rick.” That meant nothing to them, and Allen knew it. “He’s forty.”
Jamie’s head jerked back, and he looked at the other two. “Forty.”
Mark blinked. His mouth opened, then closed. “Okay.”
Connor frowned. “That’s a bit of a gap.”
Allen tightened his grip on his cup and nodded. “I know.”
Jamie stared at him for a second longer, then asked, “Is he divorced?”
“No.” Allen shook his head. “No. He’s single.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”
Allen hesitated. “We talked,” he murmured.
“That didn’t answer the question,” Connor said.
Allen’s face felt like it was burning up. “He said he’s single.”
Jamie hummed, then asked, “What does he do?”
Allen’s stomach flipped because here it was. The part he hadn’t figured out how to say casually. “He… does music,” Allen said, keeping his tone level and taking another sip of his drink.
Mark’s eyes widened a little. “Like, he’s in a band?”
Allen shook his head. “He’s solo.”
Connor’s expression didn’t change. “So he’s a musician.”
Jamie leaned forward again. “Is he, like… good?”
Allen snorted. “Yes.”
Jamie smirked. “That wasn’t what I asked.”
Allen stared at him, then sighed. “He had a hit. Years ago.”
Mark’s eyebrows lifted. “A hit hit?”
Allen nodded once. “Yeah. Number one, but it was years ago.”
Connor stared at Allen, his eyes wide. “You met a forty-year-old former pop star in a café.”
Allen’s cheeks burned so hot he was sure they could cook an egg on them. “He’s not… He’s not walking around like that.”
Jamie’s eyes lit up. “Who is it?”
Allen swallowed. He didn’t want to say his name because it felt like giving Rick away, and he wasn’t sure if Rick wanted people to know. “It’s Rick Marcus,” Allen said.
There was a second of silence, then Jamie said, “No.”
Mark’s mouth opened slightly, then slammed shut. “Wait. That Rick?”
Connor’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Allen. “One hit. Ten years ago. That song everyone played at parties.”
Allen nodded. “Yeah, that one.”
Jamie stared at him as if he expected Allen to laugh and admit it was a joke. “How the hell did you not recognize him straight away?”
“I did,” Allen muttered defensively. “I just didn’t say anything. He only came in for a drink, and I didn’t want to ask him questions about it.”
Mark leaned back, processing. “So you shared a table with a celebrity.”
“He’s not really—” Allen started.
Connor cut in. “He is. He’s famous enough that you know his name. That’s the definition of celebrity.”
Allen’s face stayed hot, and he stared at his drink. “He was fine.” He had no idea what to say after that, so he remained quiet.
Jamie watched Allen more carefully now. “Alright. What’s he like?”
Allen hesitated, then answered honestly. “He’s… intense.”
Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Intense how?”
Allen searched for the right words. “Not aggressive. Just… focused. Like he notices everything.”
Connor’s expression didn’t soften. “That can be a red flag.”
Allen knew that. He wasn’t stupid, but he also couldn’t stop thinking about how Rick had looked at him as if he mattered. He’d listened when Allen had talked. Allen had felt seen by Rick and not like he was just someone to pass the time with.
“He’s kind,” Allen said.
Jamie made a face. “Kind in what way?”
Allen shrugged. “He listened. He asked questions and actually waited for the answers. He didn’t make me feel stupid.”
Connor’s gaze held his. “Did he flirt with you?”
Allen’s throat tightened. “A little.”
Jamie’s eyes widened. “Did you flirt back?” Allen didn’t answer fast enough, and Jamie grinned. “You did.”
Allen sighed. “Yeah, maybe a little.”
Mark smiled. “Okay. That sounds good.”
Connor didn’t look convinced. “A forty-year-old celebrity sits with you, flirts, asks for your number, and now you’ve been messaging all week. That’s fast.”
Allen’s stomach twisted. He didn’t think it was fast, and he knew his friends had all done the same things with the women they’d met. But it was also the first time in months that Allen had felt like something might actually happen.
“He didn’t push,” Allen said. “He’s not blowing up my phone. He’s not asking where I am. It’s just… normal conversation.”
Jamie watched him closely. “Does he know how old you are?”
Allen nodded. “Yeah. It came up.”
“And he didn’t care?” Jamie asked, sounding suspicious.
Allen swallowed. “He asked if it bothered me, and I said no.”
Connor exhaled slowly and looked away. “I’m not saying don’t talk to him. I’m saying be careful.”
Mark nodded. “Yeah. Just… keep your eyes open.”
Jamie pointed at Allen. “If he starts doing anything weird, you tell us.”
Anything weird? Allen tried to laugh. “Like what?”
Jamie shrugged. “Like showing up at your work. Or making you feel guilty when you don’t reply. Or acting like you owe him something because he spent time with you.”
Allen’s face warmed again because the cake still sat in his head like a small, stupid moment that had felt bigger than it should. “He didn’t act like I owed him anything,” Allen said. “He just wanted to talk, and then we swapped numbers.”
Connor’s gaze flicked back to him. “Do you feel like you owe him anything?”
Allen frowned. “No.”
Connor nodded. “Good.”
Mark leaned forward slightly. “So what happens now?”
Allen swallowed. “I don’t know.”
Jamie grinned. “Yes, you do. You’re going to see him again.”
Allen’s mouth went dry, and he looked down at his drink. “Maybe.”
Connor stared at him. “Have you talked about meeting up?”
Allen shook his head and looked at Connor. “Not yet.”
Jamie snorted. “You’ve been messaging all week, and you haven’t arranged to meet up?”
Allen shot him a look. “I’m not… I don’t know how to bring it up.”
Mark smiled. “You just ask.”
Connor added, “Or he asks.”
Allen’s phone buzzed on the table. Allen looked down, seeing Rick’s name on the screen, and closed his eyes.
Jamie’s eyes lit up. “Oh my God.”
“Speak of the devil.” Mark grinned as he looked at Allen’s phone.
Connor didn’t smile at all. He just watched Allen as he picked up the phone, trying to act normal. His heart raced in his chest, and he felt as if he were on some show, and everyone was staring at him, which they all were.
He opened and read Rick’s message. Are you at the café?
Allen stared at it, then typed back. Yeah. With friends.
A second later, Rick responded. Good week?
Allen glanced up at Jamie, Mark, and Connor staring at him. He glared at them to stop, but they ignored him and carried on watching.
Jamie mouthed, Say yes.
Allen rolled his eyes and typed. Same as always. You?
Long week. I want to see you.
Allen’s throat tightened. It was so direct it made his brain stall for a second. Mark’s expression softened. Jamie looked delighted. Connor looked annoyed, but not surprised.
Allen typed back before he could overthink it. Okay.
Rick replied almost immediately. Tomorrow. Dinner. I’ll pick somewhere quiet. 7?
Allen stared at the screen, then looked at his friends, asking for help. Jamie nodded, and so did Mark. Connor didn’t nod, but he didn’t shake his head either.
Allen stared at his phone, then responded. Yeah. 7 works.
I’ll message you the address.
Allen put his phone down slowly and stared at it, a strange mix of nerves and excitement rushing through him. He wiped his suddenly clammy palms on his pants and exhaled heavily.
Jamie let out a low whistle. “Tomorrow.”
Allen’s cheeks burned. “Yeah.”
Connor pointed at him. “Message one of us the address. In case he’s a serial killer.”
Allen snorted. “He’s not.”
Connor’s expression didn’t change. “That’s what people say right before they end up on a documentary because they were murdered by a serial killer.”
Mark laughed. “Connor.”
Jamie leaned closer to Allen. “Are you excited?”
Allen hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
Mark’s smile was gentle. “Good.”
Connor’s gaze stayed on Allen. “And you’re not ignoring the weird bits just because he’s famous.”
Weird bits? Allen shook his head. “I’m not.”
Jamie smirked. “You like him.”
“Yeah.” Allen nodded and gave Jamie a small smile.
Jamie sat back, satisfied. “Alright. We’ll be annoying about it, but we’ll support it. Now, more importantly, can you make me some of that chicken with the peppers?”
“The chicken and bell pepper stir-fry?”
“Yeah, that one. Can you? Please?”
“I will.”
The conversation moved onto someone Mark knew and Allen exhaled a breath he’d been holding. He knew it could be a red flag. He knew it might be too fast. He knew the age gap and the fame, and the intensity should make him cautious. None of that stopped him. He wanted to see Rick again.