“Mochachino mushroom purée as an appetizer?” Seth asked with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s a mushroom soup with espresso and chocolate shavings,” I said. There was no description on the menu, but it was something I’d read about.
“Is that even good?” he asked.
“Mexican food has chocolate mole sauce,” I reminded him.
“There’s the invisible ravioli,” he said, pointing to one of the menu items. “You weren’t kidding. Wait,” he paused. “Pop Rocks strawberries for dessert? How is that even a thing?”
When the server came to our table, we both ordered the soup and ravioli.
“This stuff is all soweird.” Seth had started wiggling in his seat, just like a puppy, eyes lighting up. “Where did you find this place?”
When I’d been thinking of restaurants to take Seth for dinner, I’d thought hard about what he might enjoy, what he might find impressive. I knew he loved creating new and interesting cocktail combinations, and he liked experimenting with food.
“I’ve never actually eaten here before, but I thought you’d find it exciting,” I told him.
“I really do.“ He laid down the menu and took my hand in his. “You know me so well.”
I curled my fingers over his, warmth filling my chest.
“I hope the food is as good as it is weird,” I said.
“I’ve eaten some terrible things in the process of my food experiments,” he said. “Nothing could be worse than the time I tried making pickle juice Jell-O.”
I blanched.
“Oh my god, why would that idea even cross your mind?” I asked.
“I had a jar of pickle juice and a packet of Jell-O mix.” That was the end of his explanation.
“So you did it because you could?” I asked.
“That’s pretty much half the reason why I do anything, to be honest,” he replied. “Who wants to do what everyone else does? Life is more interesting if you pave your own unique path.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “I feel like I’m just doing what everyone says I should. Going to college, getting a degree, then probably getting some boring office job.”
“That doesn’t sound like something you actually want to do,” he replied.
“It’s what everyone else does,” I said with a shrug. “And I don’t really have any passion to follow, so…”
“That’s not the first time you've said that,” Seth noted.
I twisted my hands in my lap, not saying anything.
“Didn’t you ever want to be anything when you were little?” he asked.
“I wanted to be my sister,” I said. “I really looked up to her. I didn’t want to be a musician, but I wanted to be confident like her. She was always doing these awesome things, going on these awesome adventures. I always wished I could tag along with her.”
“But you never did,” he said. “I rarely saw you at shows. You never followed us around on tour.”
“Everly didn’t want me involved in the rock star life,” I said. “I wasn’t allowed to go to her concerts or see her backstage or anything.”
Seth nodded in understanding.
“Worried about the drugs, sex and rock and roll thing?” he asked.
“Of course she was. Weren’t your parents, when you first started playing drums and doing shows?”
