n't seen Ariana

power lunches. Billionaires didn't linger in corner pizzerias. And yet, every time the b

st hour, and her playlist had spiraled into obscure lo-fi blues. She leaned on the

diant, and out of place in the

," she said, voice stea

er toward the stool. "Emo

replied, shaking out t

jar labeled Too Much Confidence. She kn

d," Riley sa

al brewing," Ariana replied. "Also, I wasn't sure s

mid-stretch.

Flavor in Brooklyn: Romance or Acquisition?" Beneath it was a photo-grainy

er voice quiet.

en away. "It's noise

the oven. The silence that settled was o

ou nervous?"

ous," Ariana replied. "B

otic

smiled

rs and caramelized onions. Riley sliced

e spice," she warne

estor lawsuits. I'

e. Her brows lift

dmitted. "It

mming from the speaker near the espresso machin

's art," Ariana said,

the stool rung. "I make food like it's

time, almost vulnerable. "Yo

've met

mos

ther reached for their phones. T

ow. "There's someone acro

. A figure held a ca

razzi," sh

head. "We're n

ied. "I've had three PR expert

ared. "S

g with you is edgy

jus

your bra

. "I didn't a

ngers brushing Riley's knuckles. "Sometim

nt stretched between

bell ra

xo

ather jacket glistening with rain. Eyes scann

"Didn't think you'd mix

ensed.

ression unreadabl

ked. "G

ly, folding her napkin. "You

tered. "She's go

ur audience,"

u used to tell me about your dreams in this pl

ying anything

Arian

ows. "Careful. Head

go," Riley

ed backward, and e

r click

ard Ariana. "Sor

moment. Then she smiled.

nsion melted like cheese

e buzz remained. Her phone kept lighting up-press inquiries

ching, brain spinning. A knock

umbrella and two cu

u needed a br

or and let her in,

a cup. "No chili

ates, the kitchen dim, st

ns next?" R

slowly. "Whate

f it's

lly if i

. "I don't know wh

na admitted. "But I

ing a strand of flou

Riley didn't feel like s

th a pizza oven