I met Asher inside, where he stood by a podium, waiting for the maître d’ to return and tell us where to find our party. We looked more like twins than ever with the way we were dressed. We both wore black slacks, white button-up dress shirts, and ties. The only difference was I had an argyle knitted vest over my shirt, and Asher didn’t.

It was rare that we dressed alike as adults. That had stopped after preschool. My mother fancied putting us in matching clothes, but when our teachers mixed us up all the time, we’d cried out for independence.

People didn’t mix us up anymore. Asher had bulked up, and I hadn’t. As alike as we were, we had noticeable differences.

The maître d’ returned, wearing all black, and Asher glanced at me. “Whose name is it under?”

“Oh. I don’t know. We’re meeting a party. It should be under either Jones or Lavero,” I told the young man.

He scanned a reservation book on his podium, his chin elevated in a manner that looked snobbish. Did I use to carry that attitude? Is that what people saw when I came into a room? Not anymore, I didn’t think. Being kicked out and getting a hard dose of reality had knocked some humility into me.

I glanced at Asher. He didn’t carry himself like that so far as I could tell.

“Ah, yes. Here we are. Follow me.”

The restaurant was large with an open floor plan and plenty of seating. Another section was accessed by a few stairs that led to a raised platform and more tables. Chandeliers gave off romantic low lighting, and the waiters and waitresses wore black suits and carried themselves with a sense of regality only found in fine dining restaurants.

Our table was on the raised platform, and once we’d climbed the handful of stairs, I saw we were the last to arrive. Jay, Lewis, Charlotte, and Aria sat around an oval table that had been dressed with a white tablecloth. Two chairs were waiting for us. They were side by side, flanked by Jay and Lewis.

The minute Jay saw us approaching, he stood and waved a hand, pulling out the chair beside him and ushering me to sit, which I knew without looking irritated Asher.

“We ordered wine. Is that good for you two?” Jay asked.

Charlotte tsked. “I’m guessing they’d prefer beer. Am I right? When’s the last time you met a twenty-one-year-old university student who drank wine, Jay? Really.” She shifted her gaze between us.

“Thanks. Yeah, beer’s good,” Asher said.

She flagged down a waiter and indicated we should tell him what we’d like.

Once that was taken care of, Charlotte addressed us again. “How was your afternoon?”

“Life-changing,” I blurted. Asher kicked me under the table. “I mean good. It was … fine. Nothing special. Boring. Dull.”