Page 87 of Until the Last Star Fades

Ben let out a breath, his free hand grazing her back like he was mindful that the room was watching.

Riley squeezed him tighter. He’s being shy ’cause of Mom. I bet his cheeks are pink. She pulled away. Yep!

She met his eyes. “You shouldn’t have, but I’m glad you did!”

“I’m glad you—I mean…” He chuckled, regaining control of his response. “You’re very welcome.”

“Can I see it, Riley?”

Riley handed Maggie the box and shimmied past, tugging the window closed. “Should we go early and meet up with Casey’s family?”

Ben pointed over his shoulder. “Riles, I’ll just run to the toilet quick…”

“Sure.” She reached up and turned off the fan.

Once Ben was out of earshot, Piper lit up. “Isn’t he hot, Maggie? So much better than Josh!”

“Pip!” Riley threw her a killer glare.

“Oh, come on. You can’t deny it, Rye.” Piper crunched her dwindling candy, pulling the bare stick from her lips.

“Fine, he’s hot. Happy now?”

“He seems lovely.” Maggie handed back the tag.

Riley fussed with the box’s lid. “We’re FRIENDS, people!”

“If I had my way, Riles and Benjamuffin would be a thing.”

“And if you had your way, Piper, Netflix would be nothing but puppet shows. Doesn’t mean you’re onto something.”

“Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t mean I’m way off, either!”

Thirty-Eight

Radio City Music Hall was almost full by the time Riley, Maggie, Ben, and Piper arrived. Salute-ready in their violet caps and gowns, the best friends waved ’bye to their loved ones and scurried off to join Casey and their fellow graduates backstage.

Ben’s foot tapped nervously on the floor. I don’t usually do well alone with parents. He flipped through the Salute program, hoping the festivities would start soon. “Oh, look! Piper will be chuffed—the opening ceremony includes bagpipes.”

“She’s a proud Scottish lass.” Maggie smiled. “Riley says you were born there, too?”

“Yeah, Edinburgh.”

“Your mom must be so proud, her son acting in America.”

Shit! Guess Riley didn’t tell her I’m just a waiter. His jaw and shoulders tensed. “Actually, I haven’t had much luck so far. LA didn’t work out, and my Broadway gig…” He swallowed and squeezed his phone, avoiding eye contact. “I’m a singing waiter.”

Maggie shook her head and smiled. “Nothing wrong with that, Ben. You’re earning money, practicing your craft. You’ll get there.”

Bless her, she’s sweet. He met her eyes. “I’m barely scraping by, but that’ll change with this bike courier job. No more living off cereal.”

“Cereal! You sound like Riley.” Maggie leaned in. “But I remember those days, starting out, hungry for experiences, fun—a good meal.” She grinned. “It’s a rite of passage.”

No judgment at all. She’s lovely—like her daughter. He shifted in his seat and his shoulders relaxed, but his foot kept jittering out of sight.

“I worry about her, though. The rent she pays for that shoebox…but she needed to be near campus, and I didn’t want her missing out on the social aspects of college. It’s important.” She paused, her smile rising from a memory. “She saved all through high school—every cent she earned babysitting and from her part-time job went into her college apartment fund. She wouldn’t buy clothes or go out. Did she tell you NYU wasn’t her first choice?”

Ben shook his head. “No.”