"She's a fan," Scott explains. "We've been DMing each other." I arch an eyebrow, and he clarifies quickly, "Anonymously! It's from my side account. She's really sweet."

"She sounds fishy. Like, catfishy. It's probably some guy pretending to be a woman." I dab my cloth napkin over my perfectly clean mouth to hide my smirk.

"Oh no! What could be worse than a girl turning out to be a guy? That would be terrible! Truly heartbreaking. But no, she's not trying to seduce me or anything. On the contrary, she's been asking for advice about boys."

"Hmm, yeah, that does make it sound like she's not into you. Unless you're the boy and she's sneakily asking for advice about yourself. That's brilliant. I should do that."

"Considering her boy is complicated and unstable," he laughs, "it's not impossible."

"Details! We loves the drama."

"She thinks she has a crush on him. I told her to just cut her losses, but it turns out she's in way deeper than she's willing to admit to herself. I'd bet anything she's in love him, and not just a little."

"How can you be sure?"

"I tried to tell her to move on, but the way she defended him was downright heartwarming. I might have cried a little. It just struck a chord, I guess."

Wow. "How so?"

"She was talking about how he's more than his problems, and how they don't make him any less valuable. I hear it a lot, and usually it sounds beyond cheesy, but I think it actually means something to her, you know? It just was really touching. Like, if she can believe it about someone else... It just makes me feel less stupid when I try to make myself think like that." His words are almost hopeful, but some troubled thought overshadows his expression before he's even finished speaking.

"What is it?"

"Her crush sounds like a great guy underneath all the issues, the way she describes him."

"Yeah?"

"Me, on the other hand... I'm sorry I'm being such a downer. I know it's not normal. I mean, I wouldn't say it aloud usually, but I'm trying to be real here so you can see how screwed up I still am. I really am getting better, but my self-esteem isn't recovering very fast."

"It will. You've already come a long way."

"I guess. You asked why I finally believed you, and I think maybe that's why. I'd come to a point where I could believe that someone could honestly actually care about me. Maybe they'd be wrong to, but at least they could, and not be lying or faking it or just plain crazy. It's like what you said about me projecting my insecurities. My therapist likes you now, by the way, since I told him you said that."

"Is this one of the therapists who wanted you never to speak to me again?"

"Oh, he may love you, but he still doesn't think I should talk to you." Great.

Our food arrives in itty-bitty portions on full-sized plates. There's not even close to enough veal for the 6'3" man-child across from me, but in my case, with the pâté, less is better. It reminds me of the gack from Calvin and Hobbes.

I wasn't expecting this to be ready so quickly. I'm used to my own degree of fame, with a fair amount of being recognized on the street and signing autographs, an occasional red carpet, VIP treatment at clubs, and paparazzi at events. I'm not used to the security guards I see around Scott sometimes, the pictures of him taken from behind his back, the instant table reservations and expedited service, or the stalker-level fans who somehow knew when Alex and I went to his house. Losing his success was a big part of losing his self-esteem, but he's even more successful than before now, and it still—or is he? He has more fans, more notoriety, more money, more impact, and more respect. He doesn't have Pentatonix. If I had to choose... there's no contest.

"I can't believe you ordered that," he grimaces.

"It's important for step 33."

"It's revolting. You're not actually planning to eat it, are you?"

I poke at it with my fork. The garlic kind of helps mask the smell, but no matter how good this is, it'll still remind me of the canned version. "Step 34 will be more fun."

"I sure hope so. Wait, wasn't 33 supposed to be the one where you tell me how you feel?"

I nod "About you, yeah. I know you don't see it, but you're a great guy. In fact, I have a list right here on my phone." It opens to Twitter, and I can't help sneaking in a quick tweet before I pull up our DMs for the list.

+ Wish me luck.

"You have a list? You wrote it?" Scott asks incredulously. I hear his phone vibrate. He has my notifications turned on.

"Yep. That's why I'm rudely scrolling through my phone at dinner. Here it—" My own phone vibrates.

> Good luck!!!!

I can't believe Scott just tweeted under the table during dinner. He included a gif and everything. He's looking at me now with the strangest expression. My phone buzzes again.

> A

And again.

> B

And again.

> C
> D
> E

There's a pause, and then—

> Mitchell.

At last. I clear my throat and shift in my chair. "The list. You're hard working," I begin reading, "talented, humble, um, good with kids..." I glance upward, and he's staring at me with more intensity than I can quite handle. I look down again and read more. "You're a natural leader, but also a child at heart. You're smart, and I love your sense of humor. You're really, really sweet. You're outgoing, and everyone loves you." The list is over, but I keep going, staring stupidly at my phone. I'm embarrassed, and I'm not really even sure why. "I love spending time with you, talking to you, singing with you. I love your voice, the way you look, your goofy side, your serious side, your courage, how vulnerable you've been for me." I look up and meet his eyes. It's hard not to look away. I can do this. "I would follow you across the world. I picture us together in ten, twenty, fifty years." My heart is pounding too fast. This is terrifying. "I'd give my limbs for you, or my life, at a moment's notice."