Page 76 of Until the Last Star Fades

He leaned in close so his words could be heard over Beyoncé blasting through the speakers. “My treat.”

He didn’t have to do this. “Wow. Thank you!”

“My shift’s over in ten minutes—”

“Ben! Now!” A server twice his size rushed past with a frustrated scowl and two large platters crowded with club sandwiches.

“Yeah, coming.” Ben stifled a laugh. “I’ll be back before you know it.” He made a funny face and dashed after his co-worker. Cute didn’t even begin to describe how adorable he looked.

Riley exhaled, taking in the generous portions in front of her. She’d barely touched her salad at her mom’s and if she was going for a walk with Ben after his shift, she’d need protein and carbs to calm hungry, flighty feelings. Her mouth salivated, the plates crowded with the perfect comfort food. Fingertips poking into the fries’ deep ridges, she took her first bite. A little greasy, but sooo good. She nibbled on a chicken Tyrannosaurus Rex and checked her phone, opening a link Piper had sent to Maggie’s crowdfunding page. Scrolling down, three donations appeared: $20 from Piper, $20 from Casey, and—bless her—$200 from Piper’s mom in Chicago. Only another $14,760 still to go. She closed the page quickly so Ben wouldn’t spot it. Her mom’s health, the news about Josh—she wanted to keep Ben in the dark as long as she could. He was her only escape, her island.

Hiding her low mood, she swayed to Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” and took a detour through Instagram and Facebook. Piper had posted a new puppet video and Casey was promoting dog adoptions. Queen Bey’s empowering lyrics began to fade, replaced by a taped music bed of strumming guitar. An enthusiastic male voice joined in, prompting Riley to look up over her shoulder. What? BEN?! On top of the banquettes! Her heart froze before leaping into a sprint. He’s performing RIGHT NOW!

Strutting atop two back-to-back rows of seats, Ben’s signature confidence was on full display as he traded vocals with a tall, good-looking black guy with charm to spare. Riley recognized the celebratory song immediately—“Everybody Say Yeah” from Kinky Boots. His blue eyes sparkled, full of excitement, and his voice…

Wow, his voice! Her jaw dropped mid-chew.

It was a revelation, rich with emotion, yet straddling that fine line between professional polish and over-the-top fun. High above customers chowing down on burgers, Ben and his singing partner swiveled their hips and bobbed their shoulders, their infectious interpretation of the Broadway favorite encouraging most diners to drop their cutlery and clap their hands. Two tables of rapt twenty-somethings danced in their chairs, singing along, while several teens slouched in a nearby booth perked up and raised their phones, capturing every perfect note and PG body roll. A trio of little kids leapt into the aisle and jumped around, adorably out of time with the beat, their parents’ attempts at corralling their offspring thwarted at every wiggle.

Riley bounced to the rhythm, her smile refusing to budge. He can really sing! And dance! Tragic Mike, my ass!

Ben caught her eye and winked, jumping back into the song for the rousing chorus before he hopped off the banquette’s back rest and vanished somewhere in the rear of the restaurant. His moment in the spotlight may have been less than four minutes long, but his happy-go-lucky demeanor and heartfelt performance left Riley feeling upbeat and impatient to congratulate him.

Several minutes later, he reappeared, his blue diner t-shirt, black trousers, and server’s waist apron replaced by an a-ha concert tee and low-slung faded jeans. His dark tangle of hair had a mind of its own.

Permanent bedhead. Riley couldn’t stop staring at it.

“Hey!” Ben slipped into the chair across from her, his smile collapsing. “Oh, something in my hair?” He pawed a hand through it.

I’m that obvious? “Uh, no, nothing!” She dropped her gaze to his chest. “Hey, nice t-shirt.”

“Ah, cheers!” His eyes flitted to the faded logo spread across her breasts and leapt back to the safety of her face. “Nice Islanders top. That’s ice hockey, right?”

“Right! We’ll make a New Yorker out of you yet.”

Ben grinned. “I feel like celebrating. I haven’t spilled anything on a kid or tripped over my own feet all day.”

“Never mind that—Ben, you were amazing up there!”

He ducked his head, a bashful smile—one Riley had never seen before—brightening his cheeks. “Cheers, Riles.” His eyes bounced to the plates. “Aw, not hungry?”

She nudged the half-eaten meal forward. “I saved you some dinos.”

“Mmm, nachos, too.” Ben snatched a chip, the mozzarella playing tug of war with the plate.

“You like nachos but not pizza? Weirdo.”

Ben’s eyebrows scrunched as he ate. “How’d you know that?”

“You told me at the bar…the strip club? I suggested pizza and you—”

“Oh, right.” He eyed her untouched water. “Can I have a sip?”

“Go for it.”

He sucked on the straw. “Yeah, it’s the sickly-sweet tomato sauce I don’t like.”

“Seems funny now, but I kinda thought you didn’t like me that night.” Riley’s mouth twisted. “It felt like you were trying to get rid of me.”