She slumped harder against the wall, covering her face with her hands, gasping for breath as her chest grew tighter and tighter, her legs jelly, her lungs locked in an iron grip.
No matter what, she was trapped. She’d be miserable if she chose the show. But if she chose herself, she’d lose Shane.
She dropped her hands and looked up at him in desperation. She didn’t know what she was hoping to see. He was just staring at her, frozen, his face blank. Nausea swirled in the pit of her stomach as she suddenly understood.
This was where the line was drawn. He wasn’t going to choose her, either.
A spontaneous sob burst out of her, loud and ragged, humiliating her even further.
“I have to…I can’t,” she choked, peeling herself off the wall and stumbling toward the door.
29
Nine years ago
As Lilah approached the hotel bar, she wasn’t sure whether she was hoping he was there or hoping he wasn’t.
They’d left things ambiguous: he’d wrapped her in a hug once they’d exited the stage afterIntangible’s presentation, murmuring “Buy you a drink later?” in her ear. But if he’d meant at the UBS after-party, they’d barely had a moment to themselves, spending the whole night swarmed, shaking a never-ending supply of hands.
When she got back to her hotel room, she considered staying there. She was exhausted, her voice withered to a rasp from shouting over the music for hours. But though she eyed her bed, she found herself touching up her makeup, dabbing perfumebehind her ear, smoothing out the wrinkles in the overpriced cocktail dress she’d been wearing all day. It wasn’t that late yet, a quarter after midnight. Even if he wasn’t there, she might as well have a drink on her own, decompress a little after the overwhelming day she’d had.
But when she rounded the corner and spotted Shane leaning against the bar, she knew she’d been lying to herself. If he hadn’t been waiting there, she would’ve turned around, gone back to her room, and had her heels and dress off before the door even closed behind her.
He hadn’t noticed her yet. He was facing the main entrance, obviously trying to play it cool, but giving himself away by glancing up anxiously every time someone passed. She tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach she always got when she saw him, amplified by a hundred tonight.
She was just having a drink with a co-worker, that was all.A co-worker you’re way too attracted to, after midnight, at a hotel you’re both staying at,the you-should-know-better voice in her head whispered. She pushed it away, coming up behind him, placing her hand between his shoulder blades without thinking twice about it.
He’d changed out of his tux, into jeans and a T-shirt, the cotton warm under her palm. He looked at her, not bothering to hide his grin, sending one of her own spreading across her face in response, like he’d dropped a pebble into a pond.
“I thought maybe you were sick of me already,” he said.
“Not yet. Although it feels like I barely saw you all day, is that weird?”
He shook his head. “No, I know what you mean. This whole thing has been fucking crazy.”
The bar wasn’t especially crowded, but it was light on seating, so she stood, too, her shoulder brushing his. The bartendercame to take Lilah’s order, and she hesitated. She’d only had one drink at the after-party, and her buzz had already worn off. White wine felt safe enough.
Once the bartender poured her glass, Shane lifted his whiskey, and she did the same.
“So, what should we toast to?” he asked.
Lilah looked down at the bar, then back at him. “Maybe just…the future?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled, her gaze dipping straight to his dimple.
“To the future. It’s coming for us, no matter what.”
She meant to take it slow, but that first glass was gone before she knew it, buoying her to the perfect level of tipsy—not enough to be impaired, just loose-limbed and playful, everything he said somehow the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
By the time she was halfway through her second glass, they were comparing childhood scars, which was mostly a transparent excuse to touch each other. She tried not to shiver when his fingers brushed over the raised line on her forearm where she’d gotten five stitches after being thrown from her bicycle. In return, she’d lightly tilted his chin up with her fingertips, feeling the mottled spot he’d busted open trying to cannonball into his friend’s pool from their roof.
There were empty chairs on either side of them now, but they ignored them. He was close enough that she could smell the faintest hint of toothpaste on his breath, beneath the whiskey.He brushed his teeth before this. The thought sent a giddy thrill through her.
He’d hoped they would end up this close.
“So tell me, Lilah Hunter,” he drawled, his vowels long and lazy, as he leaned even closer. “You got someone waiting for you at home?”
She took a long sip before she responded.
