Her fingers tighten briefly around the stem of the rose, grounding herself, before she lifts her eyes again.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t glance away. Doesn’t offer a smile to soften it. She meets my gaze like she knows exactly how muchweight this moment carries, and expects me to be able to carry it with her.
That’s what does it. Not desire exactly, but something steadier and far more dangerous. A pull. The need to know what’s underneath that calm.
And I already know I’m not going to walk away from it.
Chapter seven
Sloane
“Right this way, Sloane.”
I’m still clapping with everyone when the lights cut.
The crowd noise doesn’t fade so much as shift, from explosive to chaotic, from chant to chatter, from spectacle to aftermath. Music blasts somewhere behind me, Dex’s voice booms one last time in the distance, and then an event staffer in a headset is gently steering me by the elbow like I might wander back onto the stage if left unsupervised.
“Okay,” Paige pants, appearing at my other side like she’s been launched from a cannon. “First of all, iconic. Second of all, ICONIC. Third of all, I blacked out, so you’re going to have to tell me everything.”
“I didn’t black out,” Nancy says, already walking backward in front of us, eyes bright, hands moving like she’s conductingan orchestra. “I witnessed history. I will be telling this story at brunch for the next decade.”
“I think I need water,” Paige adds. “Or champagne. Or a shirt with your face on it.”
“I need you both to breathe,” I say, because that’s easier than saying I don’t know what just happened.
The staffer smiles professionally. “Green room’s this way.”
Green room. Of course it has a name.
The hallway narrows, the sound drops a notch, and suddenly everything feels off, like my body just realized it’s allowed to catch up. My pulse is steady but loud, a drumbeat I can feel in my throat now that no one’s cheering over it.
“You were so calm,” Paige says, clutching her chest. “Like, offensively calm. I would’ve tripped. I would’ve cried. I would’ve proposed marriage to at least two of them.”
“I was sitting down,” I remind her.
“That doesn’t matter,” Nancy says. “You commanded the chair.”
“I didn’t command anything,” I say. “I listened and asked questions.”
Nancy points at me. “That’s the problem. You asked them like a human being.”
The staffer opens a door. “You can wait here.”
The room is smaller than I expected. Beige couches. A folding table with bottled water and branded napkins. A coat rack that looks like it’s seen some things. It smells faintly like hairspray and coffee.
The door closes behind us.
Paige explodes.
“Oh my GOD,” she shrieks, dropping onto the couch. “THE WAY THE CROWD WENT QUIET.”
“They didn't go quiet,” I say automatically.
“They absolutely did,” Nancy says. “It was a different kind of loud. Like… listening loud.”
Paige fans herself. “Player Three’s voice? Illegal. I’m filing a complaint.”
I twist the cap off a water bottle and take a long drink, mostly to give my hands something to do. The plastic crinkles louder than it should.
