“There you are,” someone says from over my shoulder, and I turn to see that Cassie is now rushing to him. Seeing me here, she looks at me, and then she spots his hand around my waist. “I was looking all around for you.”
“I’m here,” he says. I try to disengage from his arm, but he doesn’t just let me go. “I was going to catch the shuttle back to the hotel.”
“You have dinner reservations,” she says to him. I slowly move to the side, and he lets me this time.
“You told me it wasn’t mandatory,” he tells her, and she rolls her eyes.
“Fine,” she says, reaching in to her purse, “let me get the car.”
“We can all take the shuttle.” I look from him to Cassie and see the shock on her face. The thoughts that must be running through her mind right now give me life. Riding with the commoners must be the highlight of her evening. “Are you coming?” he asks her and then turns, putting his hand on my elbow and walking toward the door where the others just exited through. We make it to the shuttle, and the door opens when the driver sees us walking toward it. Tyler waits for me to climb the three steps, and then he holds out his hand for Cassie to get in. I walk to the back and sit in the first available seat.
“Oh, are you going back to the hotel?” Jonathan asks, and I nod. “Great. We’re going to check out the ramen place around the corner.”
“Oh, yeah?” I say to them when I feel someone sit next to me.
“That place is good,” Tyler says from next to me, “but if you really want to try the best ramen . . .”
“Define best ramen,” Autumn says and then looks at me and then Kendall. “I mean, it is ramen and not Michelin-rated cuisine.”
“It’s actually just a hole in the wall. I think it has like maybe ten seats, but it’s the best thing you will possibly ever eat in your entire life.” She looks at him not convinced. “Trust me, I filmed here three years ago, and the crew brought me there.”
“We are still talking about ramen, aren’t we?” Kendall says. “Like noodles that are freeze-dried and then dunked in water and flavored with the condom-sized packet, right?” I roll my lips and silently laugh when Tyler gasps out loud. He gets up and goes to the front of the bus, talking to the driver. “I think I insulted him.”
We all watch him as he walks back to the seat. “He’s going to take us there,” he says.
Cassie groans. Rolling her eyes, she ignores us and looks at Tyler. “I already had your dinner sent up to your suite. I have no reservations for there, and we don’t even have a bodyguard.”
“Oh, dear God,” Autumn mumbles under her breath, and when I look at her, she is looking out the window trying to ignore the conversation.
“You don’t have to come, Cassie,” Tyler tells her. “Besides, all the paparazzi are still at the theater.” She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she takes out her phone, and her fingers move a mile a minute. No one says anything while we look out the window as we wind down the smallest road ever made, then stop in the middle of the street. “All right, folks,” Tyler says, turning with a huge smile on his face, “follow me.” He walks to the front, bending his head to walk out of the bus, then turns to hold out a hand to help me down. I look around while he helps the other women off the bus. Smog is everywhere, the honking is so loud, and the little scooters are zigzagging their way through us. But the smell of food lingers in the air. He walks toward this little door that you need to duck in order to enter.
I look around and see a girl at the front of the restaurant taking orders, and the chefs are all behind the half wall. The tables, correction, table, if you can even call it that because what it is, is a long table with individual stools in a row. Everyone sits and dines together. Very homey. I look up at the menu, and it’s all in Korean, but thankfully, there are pictures.
“What do you want?” Tyler asks from beside me.
“I’m going to go with the vegetable ramen,” I say, pointing at the picture of noodles, broth, mushrooms, carrots, and a bunch of other vegetables. He nods his head and turns to ask the others what they want. I move to the back wall as people walk out from the back of the restaurant. Tyler goes to order the food, and then he hands numbers to everyone.
“This is your seat number, so you go sit down and your chef will make your meal,” he says to Autumn. She looks down and walks into the restaurant, looking for her stool. I didn’t realize there is a chef for each seat. Kendall follows her and sits next to her, then Jonathan, and then Cassie. I hold out my hand for my ticket. “There were only four together, and then ours are together,” he says and then turns to lead the way.
We walk past the four of them, and no one really notices. Well, Cassie notices as she gets her phone out and types on it. We finally get to the last two seats in the restaurant all the way at the end right before the bathroom. I take a seat and then watch as he sits next to me. I smile and then look down. “What is that smile about?” he asks. The chef in front of us hands him a beer and then places a glass of white wine in front of me. “I didn’t know what you drank, so I improvised.”
“Wine is good.” I smile at him and hold up the glass. “To premiere night one.” He raises his beer and clinks it with my glass. I take a sip of the crisp white wine, and he takes a pull of his beer.
“So the smile,” he says. “Tell me.”
I shake my head, setting the wine glass on the counter. “This,” I say with both my hands. “You in your three-piece suit sitting in the equivalent of a greasy diner.”
He laughs. “I’m more at home in this greasy diner than on the red carpet, Jessica,” he says softly. “I don’t do this job for this.” He points at his suit. “I do it because they let me do crazy stunts, they pay me a shitload, and I’m actually good at it.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I mean, I guess you’re good at it. You are the highest paid guy, so you might be good at it.” My finger taps the base of the wine glass. “Plus, it doesn’t help that you’re good looking, right?” I say, grabbing my wine again to take a drink.
“You think I’m good looking?” he asks, and I roll my eyes at his cocky smirk.
“No, but your fans do,” I tell him as the chef puts my dish in front of me, and all I hear is Tyler and his irritating laugh. I grab the ceramic spoon and move the noodles under the clear broth. I scoop a little bit of the broth, blow on it, and then bring the spoon to my lips. The minute it hits my tongue, the burst of flavors explodes.
“Holy shit, this is good,” I say, taking more broth. I look over and see Tyler grabbing his chopsticks to twirl the ramen on his spoon. “And you can eat with chopsticks?” I shake my head. “You are lucky we have a truce, or I’d be leaking the story that Tyler Beckett is just like a normal person.” He chuckles when I say this.
I try to roll the noodles and fail miserably. I lean into him, and he puts his ear closer to me. “You think they have utensils?” I ask in a whisper and then watch as he gets up. I’m expecting him to go ask for utensils, but he doesn’t. Instead, he slides his jacket off and stands behind me, then leans over my back and puts his hand on mine. I feel the heat from his body seep into my back, and I think I stop breathing. “What . . .?” I whisper or stutter; my heartbeat is going off the charts.