CHLOE BAKER'S LOST DATE

Chapter Twenty: Let's Dance

He shrugs. "Ben ordered it for you. Is this okay, or did you want something else?"

"No, it's fine, thank you."

I take the glass and take a sip. It's dry and crisp and the kind of white wine I'd order for myself. I try not to see this as some kind of sign that Ben knows me even though he doesn't while I watch him gesticulate to one of the people who works in the bar to explain how to take over what he's doing. Or that's what I assume he's doing, anyway.

When I've finished half the glass, Ben slips into the chair across from me, looking slightly frazzled, but still hot. The bar is half-full, but I can see the line forming at the door. It's nine—the concert starts in an hour.

"You can take care of business," I say. "I don't mind."

"No, this is important too."

"Okay."

He places his hands on the table. "Why—how—did you talk to Kaitlin?"

I hold the stem of my glass. I should've thanked him for it, but oh well. Here we go. "She won the contest you pretended not to know anything about at my office."

"Oh." Ben winces. "Hold on." He turns and signals to the bartender who's standing in front of a shelf of bottles and two beer taps. He holds up two fingers, then turns back to me. "You were saying?"

"You need reinforcements?"

"I thought it might be a good idea for both of us."

"Can't face me sober?"

"It's not that ... I ... Can I start at the beginning?"

"Sure."

The waiter comes over with two glasses of whisky and puts them down in front of Ben. He thanks him and offers one to me.

"I don't usually," I say. "Plus I still have this." I point to my wine glass.

"It's good. And one of the perks of being the band's label."

"Free alcohol?"

"Free good alcohol."

"Isn't that how everyone in the music business ends up with a drinking problem?"

Ben picks up his drink and drains it. "Maybe. Which is why I limit myself to two drinks under any situation."

My throat feels dry. I take another sip of my wine, then tug the whisky glass closer to me. Red wine, plus white wine plus this whisky might equal blackout, but since I'm not in the music business, I'm willing to risk it. "Is this a situation?"

"Okay, I deserve that."

"As you were saying?"

"I had a great time on our date," he says. "I meant that."

"Our fake date."

"Yes. But everything I said about it was true. And my mom. And I did try to find you after. I even talked to Kaitlin about you, which if you knew me better you'd know I don't do often."

"Why not?"

"Because she's my older sister. It's like her personal mission for me to be happy. And she never really liked Rachel. So I got in the habit of not discussing that sort of stuff with her. But with you, it was different."

"Okay." I keep saying this word and it's starting to feel weird in my mouth. But what else is there to say? Nothing, that's what.

"And then she told me that maybe she'd found you. She showed me this Instagram post with a picture of me and your contest. I couldn't believe it. You were looking for me."