People's stares have a way of making you forget how to be yourself. You suddenly feel weird making any facial expression, as you ask yourself in a panicked voice. "Is this how I've always smiled? What do I do with my hands?!? Do I just pretend the staring is normal?"

The truth was, being an author was very different than being any other kind of celebrity. I'd always imagined that my name would be known. My words would be known. But no one would care about the face or person behind it. But as technology has adapted, and people blur the lines between news and gossip. Fame and knowledge. We forget that behind every picture, every video, every comment, is a person who is just trying to get their shit together and hopes the world won't catch them on a bad day and send it viral on the internet, destroying them in the process.

This was my bad day. Getting stood up at a restaurant, on a fake date, with the paparazzi watching me from outside the window. This was my viral moment. This is what I would be known for. Not for my words, or books. Not as an author. But as a silly girl who got stood up at a restaurant and stayed glued to her seat for twenty minutes, pretending not to care.

So when my phone rang, all eyes in and outside the restaurant on me, it took all my self-control not to stare at it like a lifeline when I answered. "Hey Tate," I said, trying to keep my voice even.

"Hey, Laliana. How you doing over there?"

I smiled and pretended to be amused. "Oh pretty good. Totally not on the verge of hurling all over myself inside of this five-star restaurant."

"Yeah, Decklan and Carter are both assholes."

"Oh, so you've discovered my pet names for them?" I said with a large grin that was half sincere.

"I've got a plan to get you out of here. I just need a minute to put it into place. Think you can sit tight until..." Tate went quiet. His eyes on the front door. He swore into the phone and hung up, leaving me alone with my curiosity. He sounded angry.

Suddenly, the energy in the restaurant shifted. The eyes were no longer on me. I followed everyone's gaze and was rewarded with my heart flying out of my body, no longer mine to control.

Aiden, in an immaculate black suit, blue tie, and white shirt walked towards me. His dark hair was slicked back out of his face, leaving nothing to shield his ocean eyes and strong jaw. He stopped at my chair. All eyes were on him as he leaned down, and whispered in my ear. The restaurant was filled with whispers, and cameras flashed wildly outside as he murmured. "Follow my lead."

Then he took the chair opposite from mine, his face transforming from the serious, and focused one I had come to know, to one of open embarrassment. "So sorry I kept you waiting. Traffic was just awful."

He took in my appearance. "You look beautiful."

I blinked, finding it hard to think of coherent words. "Have you already ordered?" he asked, filling the silence.

I shook my head. "Your mother got the stains out." I blurted, my brain one step behind.

Aiden smiled, amusement flickering into his expression as cameras flashed to our left from outside the restaurant. "Your dress presented quite the challenge." He leaned forward. "Just don't fall this time."

I leaned forward too. "Be there to catch me this time."

He chuckled and plucked up his menu. "You do make it a challenge to keep you out of trouble."

"I just didn't want your job to be boring." I took a sip from my water glass. "Would you rather me pull all my crazy stunts on Tate's time."

"This one was on Tate's time."

Just then the server arrived. He read off a list of wine selections I had never heard of before, and the price tag of each one made me visibly flinch. "I will have a glass of the Sauvignon Blanc," Aiden said, handing his menu to the waiter. "And the pasta primavera."

The waiter turned to me. I wasn't ready to order. I should have been, considering I had sat, staring at the menu for twenty minutes. But the eyes, the flashes, and the text message made everything on the menu look like an ancient language, the words were a jumble of anxiety-ridden meaninglessness. I really hadn't seen the point in deciding when eating alone was second to making a run for it. "I'll have the..." I scanned the menu and picked the first thing I saw. "The linguine with lemon and tomatoes." I handed him my menu.

The waiter waited for a moment before pressing. "And to drink?"

I was stumped. I couldn't remember any of the wines he had mentioned. You are doing great Laliana, my brain mocked.

"May I pick for you?"

I hadn't realized that Aiden spoke until he gently touched my hand from across the table. "Laliana?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin but managed to keep some semblance of composure. He was sending me all sorts of insane signals since he sat down. "Yes. Please do," I finally managed.

He turned to the waiter. "A glass of Pinot Grigio please." He was rewarded with a vibrant nod from the waiter, who agreed that it was a fabulous pairing choice for my dish. Then he left to put in our order.

The waiter was barely out of earshot when I pounced on Aiden with questions. "What are you doing here?"

Aiden let go of my hand. Opening his napkin, he laid it on his lap. "My shift started and I hadn't eaten yet."

I snorted but tried to look serious again. "But why are you sitting here?" It was a loaded question. He had thrown himself into the line of fire.

"Let them write what they want about me. They won't get it right, and I won't care."

"Aiden... You could have just whisked me out of here."

He didn't answer as he adjusted his tie. "Why didn't you?" I pressed.

He sighed. "You were on the verge of being a headlining story."

"So? Sitting here, across from me... letting them jump to conclusions isn't part of your job is it?"

The waiter dropped off the drinks, saving him from my game of twenty interrogating questions for a moment. Instead, we slipped into an awkward silence with the waiter. It made me wonder how often waiters deal with sudden awkward silences when they drop things off at tables, and how many uncomfortable conversations they overhear.

Quickly leaving the table, Aiden and I were left alone again. He didn't answer the question that hung between us, instead, he surprised me with a question of his own. "What is your favorite food?"

I laughed. "What? Why?"

Aiden raised a brow. "Do you react this way on all your dates when they ask you a question?"

I pursed my lips, fighting a scowl, beyond flustered. "This isn't a date Aiden."

He tilted his head to the side, eyes drinking me in with open curiosity. "Isn't it?"

My mouth dropped open. What on earth is happening? "Guess," I responded, ignoring his gaze.

Aiden leaned back, taking me in. His piercing gaze sent my heart racing as he searched my face for the answer. I took a sip of my wine to have something to do. The wine had a sweet honeyed taste that coated my mouth. He had picked a wine that went well with my love of sweet things.

"PopTarts," Aiden replied, a teasing smile spreading across his face.

I laughed. "No. Try again."

"Why don't you just tell me?"

I shrugged. "This is more fun for me."

"Pepperoni pizza."

I snorted. "Now you are just listing random things you've seen me eat!"

"Of course! How else am I supposed to go about this?"

I leaned forward and leveled him with a stare. "You are supposed to pick something that matches the person." I took another sip of my wine, enjoying the handsome view that sat across from me. "I'm a sucker for Ramen."

Aiden looked surprised. "Wow? Versatility? You surprise me Summers."

He made my last name sound like hot chocolate warming me from the inside. It made me want him to say it over and over. "You don't have to sound so surprised. I'm more than just a PopTart girl," I answered. "Miyazaki movies make ramen look magical. So I tried it and I've been hooked ever since. What about you?"

"Guess," he replied, his eyes playful.

I stared at him for a long silent moment. "I would say... you like dynamic flavors." His face became unreadable as I continued, trying to make it a challenge. "You like authentic and don't like things that are too sweet..." I bit my lip, thinking. "My guess is... a homemade egg white omelet with avocado, turkey bacon, and a side of fruit."

He tried to fight a smile, but the dimples that appeared betrayed that attempt. "That is a fantastic guess, and I do very much love that meal, but no."

"What then?"

"You'll laugh," he said looking up at me from under his dusky eyelashes.

"I won't," I said feeling slightly dizzy under his gaze.

"Curry fries," he replied.

"YOU LIKE FRIES?!?"I said a little too loudly. I threw my hands over my mouth, and was rewarded with several camera flashes, reminding me suddenly that we were very much not alone.

Aiden reached across the table and lowered my fingers from my lips. "I do."

I furrowed my brows. "Then why..."

A sad smile crossed his lips. "Why do I act like I hate them?"

I nodded.

He still hadn't let go of my hand. He looked down at my fingers, sitting firmly in his grip. "There are certain things that we shouldn't have..." His eyes moved up to mine. "But we still want."

His skin felt hot against mine, sending a shiver down my hand. His thumb traced a circle across my wrist, sending my pulse on an erratic beat of unpredictability. "You must really like fries," I whispered.

There was a sudden flash in his eyes. A raw vulnerability that was so rare. A spark like fire, melting his icy blue eyes into twin ocean storms. "You could say that." The world around me faded, his eyes pulling me in.

"Food has that effect," I murmured, blood roaring in my ears.

Aiden's eyes grew dark. "It does."

The server arrived, and quietly left our plates without a word, sensing the strange energy at our table. "Did you go to college?" Aiden asked.

I stabbed the linguine on my plate, overwhelmed by the look in his eyes, the feeling of his hand touching mine. I ate silently for a moment, enjoying the taste of the wine with my food.

My past was a touchy subject. One I didn't feel comfortable talking about with the cameras around. I continued to stare down at my plate. "Yes... and no."

"You okay?" He asked, looking concerned.

"The cameras are freaking me out a little," I admitted, ignoring another set of flashes and the scary feeling in the pit of my stomach that Aiden caused.

"Let's go then."

I raised a brow in surprise. "Really?"

Aiden shrugged. "Why not? They've gotten their pictures and neither one of us likes being stared at like fish in a fishbowl. We can go anywhere you want to go." The idea of getting to spend time alone with Aiden caused a set of butterflies to start fighting in my stomach.

Aiden flagged the waiter, paid the check, and got our food boxed up. Then before I was fully prepared, we were outside the door, in the throngs of the paparazzi. The flashes were dizzying, making it hard to see and soon, in classic Laliana form, my high-heeled shoes betrayed me and I stumbled. I twisted my body and found myself staring up at Aiden with wide eyes, body leaned back, his hands around my waist to stop me from falling.

The cameras went wild, blinding in their greedy pursuit for a winning shot.

"Show's over! Thank you for coming! Move out of the way!" Tate shouted as he pushed through the crowd and offered cover as Aiden and I quickly shuffled to the limo, climbing in the back.

"That was insane!" I said, rubbing my eyes, trying and find my vision again.

Aiden chuckled. "Have you thought about where you want to go next?"

I tilted my head and stared up at Aiden. "What is up with you? And what was up with you asking all those questions? Normally you are all anti-talking."

Aiden glanced out the window at the throngs of paparazzi and then looked pointedly back at me. "This is supposed to be a date right? The paparazzi didn't know who with, so they assume I just showed up late? I was just asking first date questions. You are a pretty good actress."

The illusion shattered. Yeah... acting. Oh my gosh... I'm an idiot. Of course, this is fake. You and Aiden would never actually go out on a date. He would never hold your hand. This is all for the cameras.

Somehow the idea of a fake date with Aiden felt so much worse than a fake date with Carter. Because I had allowed myself to forget— for an instant that it was a facade. I'm an idiot.

I looked up at Aiden. "Thank you for saving me tonight, but... I think... I'd like to go home."

---

What is your favorite meal?