“You know, it did look a little like you under the Pennywise makeup the other night.”
He laughed again, a quick, surprised bark. “You fucked Pennywise?”
“Well, I tried. He wasn’t really that into it.”
“You gotrejectedby Pennywise? That is a nightmare.” Shane reclined back against the couch again, crossing an ankle over his knee, appraising her. “For what it’s worth, you’re way out of his league.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell him that next time he shows up.” She shifted her weight, crossing her arms. “Other kids used to call me that sometimes, when I was growing up. You know. The hair.”
Shane frowned, tapping his finger to his lips. “Hmm. Andnow he haunts your nightmares and turns down your sexual advances. I wonder what that means.”
She suppressed a smile. “Stop trying to analyze me.”
“I could never. I’ll leave that to Dr. Deena.”
Shane leaned over to the monitor and turned up the volume, Joey’s voice gradually becoming audible.
“After the break, we have two very special guests—you’re in for a treat tonight, folks.” He grinned, displaying more teeth than should reasonably fit in a human mouth. “The stars ofIntangibleare here: Lilah Hunter and Shane McCarthy.” The applause that followed was so thunderous it felt like it shook the greenroom. “Yes, yes, we’re all very excited. We’ll be right back!”
It wasn’t until her heartbeat kicked into double time again that she realized how much their conversation had calmed her—if only temporarily.
A production assistant came to herd them to their spot in the wings, behind the band, hidden by a curtain, to wait out the short break while they reset everything for the interview.
Lilah could hear a flurry of commotion around her—the audience chattering, crew members murmuring into headsets, the band riffing—but their pocket of the wings was relatively peaceful. It was just the two of them, plus a lone PA stationed a few feet in front of them, facing the stage, attention elsewhere.
The anticipation was always the worst part. Once she got out there, she’d be fine. That’s what she told herself, anyway, as her heartbeat grew bigger somehow, until she was one giant pulse, her head so light she thought it might float off her shoulders.
“Are you okay?” Shane’s voice cut through her reverie. She glanced at him, and whatever he saw on her face had his brow creasing in unfamiliar concern.
She nodded, her hand flitting up to brush her hair out of herface, which was a mistake. One, because it had already been perfectly arranged by the stylist and wasn’t in her face whatsoever. And two, because it drew both of their attention to how badly her hands were shaking.
He took a step closer, and she instinctively backed away, her shoulders brushing the curtain.
“Hey,” he said quietly, in an obvious attempt to soothe her. But it just freaked her out even more, because the last time he’d used that tone with her was—actually, she didn’t think he ever had. “C’mere.”
He reached out to touch her bare shoulder, soft and unsure,and if she’d felt even marginally less frazzled, she would’ve brushed him right off. Instead, she stepped forward and allowed herself to be folded into his arms, her body overriding the protests of her brain in a desperate search for comfort before she shut down completely.
She slid her arms around his lower back, inside his unbuttoned jacket, a sigh escaping her as his scent and warmth enveloped her on all sides. His own arms flexed in response, pulling her closer. She half expected to tense up, but instead, the aching familiarity of it all had her melting into the embrace like a stick of butter on a hot skillet. She nestled her forehead into his neck, careful to avoid smearing makeup on his collar. Her shallow breaths began to match the pace of his, deep and even, gradually syncing up.
And then, to her astonishment, she felt his face turn slightly, until his mouth was pressed against her hair. But it must have been an anxiety-induced hallucination, because there was no fucking way Shane McCarthy was kissing her on the fucking head.
Something shifted between them then, something she didn’t want to think about. Something that made a fully clothed hugsuddenly feel exponentially more intimate than when she’d been naked on top of him a couple of months ago. His breathing became heavier, almost ragged, at the same time as her heart began to pound again.
Vaguely, she heard the band break into the theme song, signaling their return from the break. The PA next to them cleared his throat.
She and Shane released each other, slowly enough that it could be considered reluctant. When she got a look at his face, his brow was creased even more deeply than before, which made her feel a little better. Less alone in her confusion.
As they pulled apart, his fingertips skated down her bare arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. At the last second, she caught hold of his hand.
He looked down at it, then back up at her, his expression difficult to parse. He didn’t let go, though, just gave her hand a quick squeeze, which she was grateful for, because it felt like the only thing keeping her from passing out.
The curtain in front of them opened, the audience howling with excitement as they walked onstage to an instrumental cover of “Superstition.” She realized too late that they were still holding hands, that people could actually see them now. Shane seemed to have the same thought at the same time, and they separated halfway to the couch, settling on the cushions—close, but not too close—as the band played their final sting.
After exchanging a few generic pleasantries, Joey leaned back in his chair.
“Now, listen. Let’s address the elephant in the room here. There’s been some rumors going around that the two of you don’t get along, but honestly, I’m having a hard time believing that. Was I hallucinating, or were you holding hands when youcame out just now? Ronald, did you catch that?” He lobbed the last question at Ronald, his bandleader.
“I did see that, yeah,” confirmed Ronald.
