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"Tuesday."
"I'll leave tickets for you at will call for next Tuesday. Don't miss it, okay? We're going into our last week."
She gasps, her hand going to her mouth. "That's so... thank you. Should I write my name down?"
"Okay." I nod, and lean in towards her. "Could you just keep this all to yourself?"
"Of course! I hate those paparazzi assholes. I can't believe the way they were spying on you and your new boyfriend." Her eyes go to my engagement ring and she squeals again. "Is he really as good as you were saying?"
So the whole restaurant heard that. No wonder Luke is beaming.
"Yes," I say, loudly enough that he'll hear. "He can be an idiot, but he's fucking amazing in bed." I lean in closer. "Or in the shower or the car or the park or a movie theater."
I'm pretty sure she's about to faint, but she manages to hold steady as she hands me a slip of paper with her name, number, email, and--that must be a Twitter handle.
"Can you make sure my mom gets into a cab?"
She nods. "Of course. And, I have to say--you handled that very well. I would not have stood up to the pressure if it was my mom."
"Tell you what--come by my dressing room after the show and we'll talk about it."
"What!?!?!" She claps her hands together, a huge smile spreading on her face.
"I'll see you next week." I turn to leave, even over the sound of her, Daria's, squeals.
Luke offers his hand and I squeeze it. It's still so much, too much.
He may be a sex god, but he's not getting out of this so easily.
***
I stew on the ride back to the apartment. For once, Luke knows better than to ask what's wrong. It's painfully obvious.
That was a bullshit ambush.
The cab pulls up to the apartment building and I'm out the door before Luke can swipe his credit card through the machine.
"Ally, don't," he calls out from the cab.
I keep walking like I can't hear him. He'll be in the lobby soon enough, in the same tiny elevator.
My knees go weak. Being in an elevator alone with Luke would be hot as hell under any other circumstance.
I look back to the cab. He's already out, on the pavement, making his way to the building. His big, brown eyes are so damn earnest. Even in his suit he looks stronger, like he's spent the last three months at the gym, somehow improving his already perfect physique.
I press the elevator button. Faster. Come faster.
The doors of the elevator slide open and I step inside, making no attempt to hold or close the doors.
It's not like he'll reward my efforts by pressing me against the mirrored walls and ripping off my clothes.
Luke steps inside the elevator, pushing the closing doors apart. His eyes find mine. His expression is intense. Like he's angry, but I've never seen him angry. Not really.
The doors slide shut behind him, but he doesn't turn to press the button for our floor. He takes another step towards me, his eyes still on mine.
"You can't keep doing this." He moves closer, until his body is only inches from mine.
I press my back into the mirrored wall. "I told you I didn't want her at the wedding."
