“Barbecue tacos?” Alden sounded as horrified as he had by the concept of square pizza.
“No fusion cuisine for you.” I laughed. “Do I need to look for the kosher symbol for the chicken? I’m not seeing it, but it seems like a no-frills sort of place. They might not have precise ingredient labeling.”
“I’m good. Just no barbecue sauce in a taco.” He shuddered, ten kinds of adorable and all the temptation that I couldn’t let get to me.
I’d been right about no-frills. The restaurant was a low-slung brick-and-wood building that looked like it might not survive a thorough fire code inspection, and the interior was similarly humble—long tables with red-and-white-checked plastic covers for communal eating, walls cluttered with pictures and memorabilia, and a small stage off to one side where a blues duo played. No cover because it was a weeknight, thank goodness.
We both got carded at the door, but I had a feeling Alden would have opinions and thoughts on a beer with dinner since I was next to drive, so I didn’t go there, instead getting the cheap tacos and water to save my cash. Alden got the half-chicken dinner with the apparently famous battered fries and coleslaw. He ended up sharing both the fries and the meat with me.
“Ordered too much again?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, not really complaining. I didn’t want to be his charity case, but I also wasn’t stupid enough to turn down free food.
“Something like that.” He at least had the decency to blush. The sultry live music, combined with sharing food, had this evening feeling rather date-like, but right as I started to feel like we were in a cozy bubble, a fry came whizzing by my head. Oops. I’d forgotten that we were at the end of one of the long communal tables, sharing space with two noisy families. My head whirled, trying to figure out where the fry had come from.
A group of kids who looked around ten years old were having the sort of fry-and-straw wrapper fight that reminded me of camp and family reunions, antics with my cousins. Beyond the tweens, three young teen girls trading selfies made me think of my sisters, and I fingered my phone in my pocket, wishing for one of Cassie’s erratic sneak-texts, missing the days when they’d been able to blow my phone up with silly pictures of friends and dance class.
I must have let my smile slip because Alden frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just missing my little sisters.”
“You don’t…ah… They’re not allowed…”
God, I hated sharing this, but I also wasn’t going to lie. “Yeah.”
“Like at all?”
“I’m a forbidden topic apparently, and Dad threatened to take their phones if they kept texting me.”
“That sucks.” Alden’s voice had the same sympathy he’d had for Jasper’s family situation, and the outrage in his eyes made it easier to keep talking.
“The oldest one, Cassie, sometimes sneak-texts me from a friend’s phone. She’s watched the show some too.”
“That’s cool that she watches. My older sisters think the game is stupid. I can’t imagine not being allowed to contact them though. That would suck.”
“Yeah. It does.” Exhaling hard, I picked at the last of the chicken he’d given me. “Ready to go?”
“Yes. We better push on a few more hours.” As he consulted his phone, his mouth twisted. “We were supposed to make it farther through Kansas tonight. We’ve got a stop tomorrow in Denver if we can make it.”
“We’ll make it. Just keep me awake, and we can do Salina tonight at least. And you won’t be missing much—the scenery gets flat and boring after Topeka.”
When we exited the restaurant, night had fallen, a warm, muggy evening greeting us with a sliver of moon and the mingled scents of barbecue and roses.
“Think we’ll be far enough into Colorado tomorrow to really see the stars?” Alden asked. “I’ve heard that you can see a lot more stars out west, away from the cities.”
“Yeah. You can. I’ll make sure we get some stars for you.”
“Thanks.” The gratitude in his eyes warmed me through as I slid behind the wheel. Doing nice things for him was simply too easy. Felt too good. And to be able to make someone else happy with merely the promise of some stargazing? Yeah, that was heady stuff.
“Did you like space stuff as a kid?” I asked as I headed back to the highway. “I always wanted a rocket ship. My grandpa taught me all the constellations, but I was always more concerned with discovering alien worlds.”
That made him laugh. “I wasn’t so much on intergalactic travel. Fear of flying, remember? But I loved space stuff. I had this amazing fourth-grade teacher who let me write a whole essay on why Pluto should be reclassified as a planet again.”
“That’s awesome.” We spent the first part of the drive talking science classes and favorite teachers, and Alden warmed to the topic, his fondness for particular teachers coming through even though the distance he’d felt from peers was also clear.