AFTER SCHOOL I WALK to The Night Owl. Most Fridays the girls come with me. Everything's on the house for us – the Night Owl, along with the restaurant upstairs, is owned and managed by my parents.
Ever since they met and fell in love at chef school in Seattle (pretty romantic I guess), they dreamed about starting a business together.The only complication was that my dad wanted a haute cuisine restaurant and my mom wanted a cozy little coffeehouse.So when my gran offered to put money down on a building, they decided on a compromise. Fine dining restaurant upstairs, coffeehouse downstairs.When they first moved in eleven years ago, the building had been abandoned for ages. I was only five years old, so I don't remember much – but whenever I look at it now I can still see the blanket of moss and ivy growing all over the facade so thickly you could barely see the walls.Today a small group of tourists in flannels and hiking gear are standing outside the shop peering in through the windows, probably trying to decide whether or not to go in.From the looks of it they've just been for a long walk and want a bite on the way back.I might as well pay my way and rustle up some business.I walk up to them smiling, fighting back my shyness."You should go in," I tell them. "They have the best pecan nut pie in Portland."A middle-aged woman with dark close-cropped hair turns to me and smiles."You think it's ok?" She asks. "We're gonna tramp mud all over the place. "I look down at her muddy hiking boots. The rest of the group looks just as bedraggled."That's ok, there's a separate entrance for the courtyard," I tell them, pointing to a wrought iron gate around the side of the building. "I'll send someone out to take your order.""You work here?" she asks as the group heads towards the courtyard."Not exactly," I answer.Before walking through the door I stop on the step and look up at the sign above the doorway.An old slab of wood hanging on iron chains. Two owls painted in bright green and brown sit side by side on a branch, their eyes huge and looped with crazy Celtic patterns. Swirling purple letters spell out "The Night Owl" against a dark blue backdrop, sprinkled with small golden stars. Even smaller letters in gold below say "Open 12 to 12". And below that, my gran's initials, so tiny you wouldn't notice them unless you looked really close.The bell tinkles as I go through the door. Jade smiles at me from behind the counter."I'll be with you in a sec Ashling," he says as he switches on the coffee grinder.I watch him take down two mugs shaped like owls hanging from hooks above the counter.Jade's a trained barista and he makes a cup of coffee faster than anyone.I can see what it is that Jamie likes about him. Besides being handsome in an unkempt, tortured artist kind of way (a vague resemblance to Kurt Cobain with sandy blonde hair tied behind his head and sharp features), he's also a genuinely nice guy.He dropped out of art school before he got his barista qualification and started working for my parents, but he still paints in his free time.Today there's a smudge of bright blue paint on his left shoulder, just below a tattoo of a lotus flower encircled by two brilliant orange Koi fish. Most other people would assume the streak of blue is part of the design but I've had plenty of practice staring at Jade's beautifully toned arms, and he's usually got paint smudged somewhere on his person.I watch quietly as he adds the finishing touches onto a pair of foamy cappuccinos. The new waitress comes over to pick up the order, shooting me a sideways glance as she places the mugs on a tray.She has a totally impractical hipster haircut – shaved at the back and on the sides, with a long wavy fringe – that requires her to tuck back her hair every few minutes. To be honest I don't know how long she's going to last.She's pretty efficient and hasn't dropped an order or spilled coffee all over a customer (not yet, anyway), but she has a weird attitude.Especially towards me.I could be a real cow and say something to my parents about her, but I'm not just about to get someone fired just because they don't like me."Table four," Jade tells her.For the first time since she started, I actually see her smile. It's really just the hint of a smile but it's there. A bit of color comes to her cheeks and she flutters her eyelashes as Jade places two honey and oat cookies on either side of the coffee mugs."A group just arrived in the courtyard," I tell her, smiling as warmly as I can. "I told them you'd go take their order."The smile immediately slips from her face, and she casts down her eyes, nodding before walking away."Sorry to keep you waiting Ashling," he says. "Where are your friends? They're not gonna watch you play tonight?"For the past year, every Friday at five I sit on the stage – a raised wooden platform at the back of the shop – with my guitar and play a set for the after-work crowd.My playing at the Night Owl was actually Jade's idea. He thought we should have live music on Fridays to give the place some atmosphere.Usually on Fridays after school, my friends and I will get a table near the back and spend the afternoon drinking chai lattes, sometimes getting some homework done (almost never) while Jamie flirts with Jade at the counter. They stick around for my performance, and then we go to my house and watch Netflix.Not tonight though. Right about now they're probably getting ready for the concert. Doing their hair, putting on nail polish, probably under the disapproving gaze of Grace's mom."They're going to the Fable concert tonight," I say. "Anyway, how are things going here?""Same as usual. All the regulars," he says.I scan the room."Where's Mrs. Leyton?""Oh, yeah," he smiles. "She came in early today. With a guy."Mrs. Leyton is an elderly widow who comes into the shop every single day at three thirty for afternoon tea, and usually sticks around until five. She hasn't missed it in years, as far as I know.We always see her sitting at her table by the window, her makeup and hair immaculate, a brilliantly colored scarf wrapped around her neck, with her order of Earl Grey Tea and the cake of the day. She sits all alone and writes.I think she's writing her memoirs, but Jamie says it's saucy Mills and Boon porn. It's really odd for her to not be here at this time, and it’s even weirder for her to bring someone else to the coffee shop."Did you recognize him? I mean, the guy she was with?" I ask, suddenly curious about this mystery man."Never seen him before," Jade answers. "They were holding hands across the table and everything. It was actually pretty romantic."There's an awkward silence as I try to think of something to say. For some reason talking about this sort of stuff with a guy makes me feel nervous.The thing is, I've never actually had a boyfriend, let alone kissed a boy. It might have happened with Evan, if things hadn't gone the way they had. As it is, I have zero experience.I feel like even just talking about love, dating, whatever, will give that away, so I avoid it. I wish I didn't always over-think everything."I guess I'll be taking the back room keys," I say, turning my face to hide the blush creeping across my cheeks.One of the many problems with being as pale as I am – anytime I blush, the whole world knows it."Sure," Jade says, reaching under the counter and passing them to me. "See you at five."UPSTAIRS IT'S CHAOS AS usual. Biblio only officially opens at six for dinner, but the preparations start in the early afternoon. There's inventory to take, plates to wash, stock to prepare, gelato to freeze.Every time I walk into Biblio's entrance I love to imagine the first impression diners get of it.It's massive – a double vaulted ceiling with chandeliers illuminating tapestries and old paintings. Oak bookshelves crowded with books bought in second hand stores line most of the walls.The cleaner is changing the roses and candles on each table, while a waiter stacks menus on the bookshelf at the entrance. The menus are inside old book covers to keep with the library theme.I consider going into the kitchen to say hi to mom and dad, but I know they have their hands full.So I spend the rest of the afternoon in the back room working on my school assignments.Even though I have a couple of solid hours uninterrupted, I still only manage to finish
ON THE WAY OUT I stop to say goodbye to Jade.Jade looks up from the latte he's making."What are your plans for the rest of the night?" He asks."Home. YouTube. Dinner," I answer. What I don't mention is that by YouTube I mean I'll be lounging around in my pjs crying over Fable music videos. And by dinner I mean pistachio ice cream. Probably a whole tub.With mom and dad working in the kitchens until late every Friday, I basically have free reign. "Sounds fun. That reminds me though..." he leans across the counter, tucking a loose strand of sandy blonde hair behind his ear. "Why didn't you go with your friends to the concert? I thought you loved Fable. Like, a die-hard super fan."There's no sarcasm in his voice.One of the things I admire most about Jade is how he's so accepting, and he actually makes an effort to see from other people's point of view. I doubt he listens to Fable – he told me once that he mostly listens to old retro stuff
FOR A GOOD TEN seconds, all I can do is stare. This can't be happening.Finally I feel my lips move. "Felix... Lockhart?""In the flesh," he says.I take in the familiar features, looking for some difference which would prove he's just some lookalike having a laugh.I take in the beautiful, perfect face, vampire-pale skin, high cheekbones framed by dark hair. It's his eyes however that banish any doubts – they're recognizable anywhere.Intense hazel green with a ring of brown around the pupil, with a few gold flecks near the rim. Cold and cat-like, predatory even – but somehow too beautiful to be real. I've always wondered if they're actually contacts, but up close I can see his eyes are perfectly clear.No contacts. No Photoshop."They're real," I murmur. "Wow"."What's real?" He asks.I just stare.Felix Lockhart is here, standing right in front of me. The real deal, totally legit. Living, breathing, not just in the mag
INSIDE, THE LIMO IS cool and softly lit. I slide across the leather seat until I'm sitting opposite Felix.There's a cold, fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach.Felix places the guitar case on the floor between us. He stretches back, crossing his long legs out in front of him at the ankle.I notice he's wearing the same outfit (a dark top, black jeans and navy blue converse sneakers) he was wearing in one of Lyall's Instagram updates from earlier in the day.It's all just so surreal.I look down at my own outfit and realize we're wearing practically the same thing. I didn't change after school, so I'm still in my skinny jeans, converse and a red hoodie.I'd give anything to be wearing a pretty dress right now. Or some killer lipstick or even just eyeliner. I can see Jamie's logic in wearing makeup 24/7 now.But there's no way when I was rushing to get dressed this morning I could have known I'd be going to the concert, escorted by none other t
AS WE PULL INTO the stadium parking lot, I realize that the screaming is coming from a huge crowd of girls hanging around outside.Zee, Grace, Jamie and everyone else who has a ticket will be inside by now.These are the fans who didn't get concert tickets in time.Most of them are standing around waving signs that read "FABLE FOREVER" OR "ENFABLER4LIFE", singing, screaming, showing their support even though they won't get to see the actual show.When Fable first started getting popular, their fans were mostly teenaged girls. The press were quick to label them as a boy band, even though they play their own instruments, and their sound is closer to rock than pop. As they started winning awards and earning respect, the press changed their tune. They were the band that "brought rock back". The cherry on top was when David Bowie, dressed head-to-toe in his Jareth costume from Labyrinth, joined the boys onstage during a performance of Déjà Vu at Central
"THIS WAY," TODD SAYS, walking down the corridor at a fast pace.As I follow the security guard past several sets of frosted glass doors, I remember Beth boasting that her dad got her a suite.If she was telling the truth, it means she and the other Bs are probably somewhere nearby on the same level of the arena.I might even run into them.Oh hell no.Although even if that were to happen, it’s no big deal. Nothing could ruin my good mood. This is shaping up to be officially the most amazeballs night EVER, and it’s only going to get better. I still can't believe I'm going to meet the rest of the band after the show.I'm not too nervous about meeting Lyall or Elliot, because everyone knows that Lyall's a total sweetie and Elliot's super nice. Ben has a bit of a "hothead" image going on but he's really fun, and Alastair is... Alastaire.I have no clue what I'm going to say to them.Todd finally stops in front of a brightly lit room w
THE MOMENT THAT KITTY leaves the suite, the three angels swoop down on me.I shrink back from the cloying semi-circle of bleached blonde hair, fake tan and too-sweet perfume.They look a few years older than me, possibly seniors at another school.I was so worried about running into the Three Bs, and instead I've ended up with another (possibly worse) trio of angels.Unfortunately it's not as coincidental as one might think.Alastaire's fans always seem to travel in packs. All Enfablers are like a big family, a sisterhood that spans the globe – but the angels take it to the extreme.Angels stick together with one goal in mind. Their sole aim is to get chosen. To get noticed by their idol, and to have the honor of being one of the special angels that "Alastaire takes up to heaven" after each concert.That's what the rumors online say, and it looks like there might be some truth to them.The girl in the sparkly gold top is smiling
I TAKE A SEAT AS far away from the angels as possible, at the far end of the row.The view really is incredible, and I sit for a while just looking down at the crowd. Somewhere in the mass of bodies, Grace, Zee and Jamie are singing, dancing, probably crying (tears of joy, of course).I'd love to spot them, but I know the chances are slim.As I think of my friends, it dawns on me that since getting into the limo with Felix, I haven't messaged them even once. They have no idea that I'm even at the concert.I try calling Zee first. Her phone rings for ages, and eventually I get through to her voice mail. When she doesn't pick up I try Jamie, with no luck.It must be so noisy on the floor that they aren't hearing their ringtones.Calling Grace isn't an option – she doesn't even have a phone.Her parents think that cell phones equal sexting, which equals underage sex, which equals teen pregnancy, dropping out of school and a life turning tricks o