It was only a matter of time before the kids in the booth across from Jonah approached him for autographs. They’d been stealing glances at him for the past five minutes and whispering among themselves for the last three. At best, Jonah had another ten minutes before they finally worked up the courage to send someone over, just to check.

Ordinarily, being recognized didn’t bother him. It was just part of the job. Being an A-lister meant being recognized, and Jonah had gotten used to it over the past few years. Today, though, all he wanted to do was eat his tuna melt at this hole-in-the-wall diner in peace.

Part of the reason he’d chosen the place was because of its location—just far enough away from Hollywood that he wouldn’t be gawked at by tourists who’d just finished their shopping on Rodeo Drive. But the diner was also genuinely one of his favorites. He’d been patronizing the Limestone Cafe ever since moving to LA seven years earlier. Something about the rustic wood floors and stained-glass light fixtures set it apart from every 50s wannabe diner he’d seen in Hollywood, and made the place seem more authentic. And they also had the best tuna melt he’d ever had in his life.

One of the girls in the booth glanced back at him and then murmured something to her friends. Eight minutes left. He checked his watch. Really, he didn’t have time to drive all the way out here just for lunch, especially since he had an interview that afternoon, but if he didn’t get out of the city, he was going to go crazy.

He needed a vacation, if he were being honest with himself. Four years of constant filming and press tours was amazing for his bank account—and his ego—but he was tired. Tired of the same dog and pony show year after year where every minute of his day was planned and accounted for. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a day to just relax and enjoy the unstructured-ness of it all.

His phone buzzed and he fished it out of his pocket. Aspen had added an event to his calendar. He knew without looking exactly what it was—another date. Just what he needed: more pretending. The same thing happened with every girl. His agent would arrange the date and send him any and all relevant information, they would go out a few times (usually conveniently after one of their films premiered,) and a few weeks later announce their breakup. That had been the extent of his dating life for the last three years, and while the women were occasionally genuinely nice to get to know, it was hardly what he would call his ideal scenario. Then again, he wasn’t sure what his ideal scenario would be. Preferably something with sex involved.

Aspen’s face popped up on his screen and his phone buzzed again. Jonah rolled his eyes but slid his thumb to the right, accepting her call.

“What’s up?” He didn’t even bother to say hello.

“Did you see the update to your schedule?” Aspen asked.

One day, there was going to be some modicum of warmth in her voice. She might even ask how his day was going. Jonah huffed a quiet laugh. Yeah right. Hell would freeze over before that ever happened.

“Yeah.” His stomach tensed. The date had been scheduled for Thursday at Nobu—three days from now. Three days of continuing madness, being hounded by the press and asked to sign a billion autographs and being forced to sit through half a dozen interviews. Something inside of him snapped, but he didn’t care. For once, he was going to allow himself to be selfish. “I’m not going.”

“You… what?” Aspen’s voice was as brittle and sharp as a glass shard. One Jonah knew she would love to stab him with.

“I’m not going on the date with Hannah.” The teenagers weren’t even trying to hide their interest now. Jonah couldn’t say he blamed them. “Look, I appreciate everything you do for me. You’re like a one-woman army. But I don’t think I can do this right now.”

Aspen scoffed. “Oh come on, Jonah. It’s a few dates and that’s it. It boosts your image and her new TV show. Surely you can do that, right? It’s just business.”

That’s all it ever was. And all it would ever be if Aspen kept calling the shots.

“I get it. Really, I do. But there’s got to be some other way I can help her that doesn’t involve me pretending to be interested in someone I don’t even know.”

“So get to know her on your date,” Aspen said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked to book a table at Nobu on such short notice?”

It was amazing how Aspen never failed to make him feel three feet tall, even though she was a good head and a half shorter than him with six-inch heels on. Two years ago, he would have backed down. She’d risked a lot by agreeing to be his agent, and he really was grateful for what she’d done for him. Without her, he never would have gotten his big break, and he certainly never would have gotten the part of Northstar in the upcoming Alpha Flight film. But now that he was a household name, there was no way she could drop him no matter what he did. And he intended to see just how far he could push.

Jonah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Like I said, I appreciate how hard you’ve worked on my behalf. You’re a better juggler than I ever could be. But I need a break, and I don’t just mean from dating.”

The line went silent, but Jonah could still hear Aspen breathing on the other end. Finally, she cleared her throat. “What exactly do you mean, you need a break?”

“I mean I need a break. I want to go home.” The words left his mouth before he could think about them.

“You want to go home? Fine. Go home. I’ll clear your schedule for the day.”

“No.” Jonah shook his head, even though she couldn’t see it. “I don’t mean the penthouse. I mean I want to go home. To Kentucky.”

Aspen laughed, a tittering sound that had always grated on Jonah’s nerves. “Good one, Jo. You almost had me worried.”

“I’m serious. I want to get away for a bit.” His mind wandered back to the summers he’d spent on the Cumberland River with his cousins. That last one before he’d moved out to California had been the last time he’d known any real measure of peace. God, he could certainly use that again.

“You can’t just drop everything and leave. You have interviews, a photoshoot, your date.”

“I already told you I’m not going on the date, so that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about—”

“I made a reservation!”

“Break it,” Jonah snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t care how you do it, but I need the next week off.”

He really should have felt worse, making her do all this, but he hadn’t had a vacation in nearly two years, and it had been longer than that since he’d gone home. Getting away would do him good.

“You have no idea how much you owe me,” Aspen said after a moment. “I’m not kidding.”

“I’m pretty sure I can guess. I’ll send you some goldenrod,” he teased.

He could practically hear her eyes roll. “Why do I even put up with you?”

“Because I make you a shit ton of money?” There was no need to sugar-coat it.

“Fair enough. One week. That’s all you get. And you sit through three interviews with reporters of my choosing.”

That was the best he was going to get, so he took it, along with another bite of his tuna melt. “Fine. Book me a ticket for tomorrow. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the guys from the group of teenagers slide out of the booth. His ten minutes were over.

“Hey Aspen, I’m gonna have to call you back,” he said, already pulling the phone away from his face. “Hugs and kisses. Toodles!”

She would kill him for that, but he didn’t care. He had a fan to talk to.

Said fan made his way over hesitantly, looking anywhere but at Jonah. That boded well for him. The worst fans were the ones who barged over like Jonah owed them a conversation. He didn’t think he would ever get used to that.

“Um… hi.” The kid scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I’m Dylan. My friends and I were, uh, trying to figure out if it was really you.”

Jonah tried and failed to choke back a laugh, and it came out a bit strangled. “It really is me,” he said with a nod. “It’s nice to meet you, Dylan.”

A beaming smile lit up Dylan’s face, and he looked back at his friends before trying to school his expression. “Cool. Um… I just…”

Wanted an autograph or a selfie, more than likely. Jonah didn’t blame him, not really. He’d wanted to do the same thing with more than one actor he’d loved when he was a kid. It made things a little awkward when he worked with some of them now.

“I just wanted to tell you thank you. For how you played Northstar. See I’m, uh, gay. And seeing a gay superhero, it’s… it’s really special. I mean, there’s been all this talk about a bi Spiderman, and Deadpool’s pan and all, but seeing a superhero with a husband…”

Oh. Logically, he knew it was only a matter of time before he started getting fans like this. It sent a warmth through him, knowing he had made a kid feel special.

“I know you’re not gay,” Dylan continued. “You’ve been out with pretty much every actress in Hollywood. But it was still really amazing to see you and Corbin kissing in the previews.”

It had been amazing kissing Corbin, in all honesty. One of his favorite actors as a kid and they were playing husbands? His life really was amazing sometimes.

“Anyway, I didn’t want to take up much of your time. I just wanted to say hi. And thanks.”

He turned to leave, but Jonah stopped him. “Wait. You’re not taking up my time.” It had been so long since he’d been able to have a quality, one-on-one conversation with a fan. “Do you, uh, want an autograph or anything?”

Dylan shook his head. “Not really. I mean, it would be cool, but I don’t need it. But…”

Jonah knew where this was going. If not an autograph, a selfie. “You want to take a picture with me? I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Dylan glanced from him to his half-eaten sandwich. “It’s just, I heard you talking to someone about needing to get away from all this.”

And here he thought he’d kept his voice down. “Interviews. The press. Never this. I like talking to fans. It’s my favorite part of being an actor.”

“Really?”

“Well… not quite. My favorite part is working with actors I loved as a kid. But talking to fans is a close second.”

Grinning, Dylan took a half-step closer, and Jonah pulled him into the booth where he was sitting. “Here. Grab your camera.” As soon as Dylan was ready, Jonah tilted his head to the side. “Say ‘Northstar!’”

The pictures turned out pretty well, considering Dylan’s phone looked like it had been dropped down a cliff. By the time he walked away, he was sporting a wide smile and a half-dozen photos he would probably upload to Instagram immediately.

After paying his bill, Jonah headed out to his car, a lightness in his step that hadn’t been there when he’d arrived. The day was nice enough he put the top down and turned on the radio. He scanned the stations until he settled on an unlikely choice and peeled out of the parking lot, Brad Paisley blaring from his speakers. He was going home.