“Amanda?” she says from the doorway. I turn and look at her. “Take the rest of the night off, okay? Maybe Nicky can show you the ropes after the restaurant closes. I’ll need you back here at four tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I say as she pushes through the swinging doors back to the restaurant.

I turn slowly back to Nick. “Why did you offer to do that?”

“You said you needed the job,” he says. “Besides,” he adds with a wink, “if I’m going to keep coming here to study, I can’t risk being doused by a tray full of drinks again.”

I smile at him, and just when I’m thinking we’re sharing a moment, he turns away and says, “Meet me back here at eleven tonight and we’ll go over some stuff.”

Then he disappears back into the restaurant.

I have four hours to kill before I’m due back at D’Angelo’s. I’m strangely nervous. I mean, obviously it’s not like my after-closing meeting with Nick is a date or anything. But he’s gorgeous. He’s sweet. And he doesn’t seem to hate me, even though I dumped soda all over him. In just a few hours, I’ll be alone with him in the restaurant. Is it wrong that that makes my heart beat just a little bit faster? Is it wrong that I can’t wipe the smile off my face?

I slowly walk into my motel room, barely glancing at the roach family that scatters as I flip the light on. I grab the can of Raid and absentmindedly spray the chemical killer in their general direction. I’m pretty sure I haven’t gotten them, considering that I can still hear them moving around, but for once, I don’t care.

“What do I do?” I absently ask the roaches. “Maybe he kind of likes me. I mean, I think I like him. It’s just weird. I mean, what am I supposed to talk about with him? It’s not like I can tell him who I am. And there’s really nothing else interesting about me, is there?”

I miss my old life more than I thought I would. For all the things I hated about it, I never took enough time to look at the things I actually liked. Such as not having to carry trays full of drinks to tables of ten while not knowing how to flirt with cute guys reading textbooks. Sleeping in five-star hotel rooms every night instead of dingy, roach-infested motels. Not having to worry about money—or flat tires or canisters of Raid or how to balance a tray of drinks.

In my old life, guys wanted to talk to me. I didn’t have to be charming or witty or anything. I just had to be, because I was Star Beck. That was enough.