Dance With Me (With Me in Seattle #12)(33)

“Uh, thanks.”

“Can we get some photos? And your autograph?”

“Later,” Levi interrupts, glaring at Candy. “After we’ve had a chance to enjoy our meal, please.”

“Oh. Right.” She nods but then frowns. “Wait. Are you one of those stars who gets pissed when people just want to talk about how much your work means to them? Because I have to be honest, I think that’s bullshit. As your fan, I’ve bought everything you’ve ever recorded, and concert tickets, too. Like, you’re rich because of me.”

“Right,” I reply, completely pissed off and ready to just go. At this point, she’ll probably spit in our food anyway. I’ve learned from experience, there is no bouncing back from this. She’s already pissed off, and neither Levi nor I have done anything wrong. “It’s awesome that you’re such a big fan. I really appreciate it. Levi, we can just go.”

“Oh, now you don’t want to eat here?” Candy demands, propping her hands on her hips. “If you don’t want to be recognized, you shouldn’t leave your damn house.”

“Wow,” Levi says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why do you think you can speak to her like that?”

“Well, because I’m her biggest fan,” she says, and I can feel my cheeks blazing with embarrassment and anger. “Also, you should reply to your email.”

I stop cold. No way. There’s no way we just happened to come in and eat where my stalker works. What are the odds of that?

Zero.

I’m being ridiculous. She probably just sent some fan mail that I didn’t see. I shouldn’t automatically jump to the worst-possible conclusion.

I want out of here.

“I’d like to go,” I say to Levi as I glance around the restaurant. Other customers have stopped eating and are watching us with rapt interest. Some have even taken out their phones to record the incident. “Please, they’re recording us.”

“No problem,” Levi says, scooting out of the booth and reaching for my hand.

“You had drinks,” Candy says. “You can’t just leave without paying for them.”

“Yes, they can.” A man walks up behind Candy, surprising her. “I’m so sorry for the harassment from my employee. This is not how we run our business. You’re fired.”

“What?” Candy demands.

“Get out,” he says and turns to us. “I understand that you want to go, but come back anytime for a meal on us.”

“Thanks,” Levi says with a nod and pulls me close to his side as he leads me out of the restaurant. I tuck my face into his shoulder, trying to avoid being recorded by the phones pointed at us.

“That was a disaster,” I say as we sit in his car. “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? That girl was ridiculous.”

“Oh, that was tame compared to some I’ve met.” My heart is racing and in my throat. “At least she didn’t touch me.”

“Christ,” he mutters, putting the car in gear and driving away from the restaurant. “Why are people so ridiculous? Why couldn’t she have just quietly told you she enjoyed your work? Then we could have gotten on with our day.”

“Most do that,” I concede. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, people are gracious and kind, and just want to say hello. The other one percent is a little . . . odd.”

“That’s a polite way of putting it.”

“Well, it’s true. That whole scene will be all over social media and the tabloids within the hour—if it isn’t already. I’m sorry for that because your face is there, too. And now people will dig into who you are, and it could be uncomfortable for you.”

“I’m a big boy,” Levi says with a sigh. “I’m fine. I don’t give two shits about social media. I just don’t want anyone to ever speak to you like that.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you still hungry?”

“Hell yes, I am.”

He grins over at me. “Should we go get some Red Mill and take it back to my place?”

“That’s perfect. I didn’t really want to be good with a salad anyway. A burger sounds delicious.”

“Done. But we’re getting an extra order of fries because last time you ate half of mine.”

“Why are you so protective of your fries?”

“Because I’m hungry.”

“We’d better get two extra orders.”

“You’re really hungry.”

“Sex in a cop car does that to me.”





Starla

“Fuck me,” I mumble as I page through my Instagram. I’m in Levi’s bed, the sheet wrapped around my naked body. I can hear Levi in the shower, blissfully unaware of the social media shitstorm that I’m watching.

There are videos of the whole scene—from different angles, of course. The comments below them range from whoa, what a bitch! The waitress just wanted a photo! to why don’t people leave celebrities alone when they’re trying to live a normal life?

There are more still photos, some zooming in on Levi.

“What in the hell?” I read the caption on one of the pictures.