I wasn’t sure if I should move toward him, hug him, shake his hand, or what, so I wrapped my arms around myself and said, “That was really nice of you to bring my things over.” Heat rushed up the skin along my chest and neck. I could talk to normal guys as well as I could talk to anyone else, which honestly wasn’t saying much, but while I’d felt fairly invisible in the group setting, this one-on-one thing left me tongue-tied and awkward, like I had too many limbs.
Micah, bless him, took it in stride. “Hey, it’s no problem. We gotta watch out for each other, right?”
Jesus, what a nice guy. “Mmm-hmm,” I squeaked. My lips folded into my mouth, and I couldn’t think of an actual word to speak.
He slipped toward the door and backed out, saying. “Let us know if you need anything. And make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”
“Thank you!” I yelled after him as the door clicked shut.
Fuck. I shoved my palms against my eyelids and relived the last five minutes in mortification.
Once I’d convinced myself it wasn’t that bad—I hadn’t asked if I could have his babies or anything—I went through my suitcase, then headed to the bathroom armed with pajamas, my toothbrush, toothpaste, and a couple of extra-long super overnight sanitary napkins that I planned to tape together front to back to make damn sure I didn’t bleed all over Jo’s mom’s guest bed. Day five of my period wouldn’t bring a tsunami, but I didn’t want to risk a last-minute menstrual monsoon and leave here with their bed looking like the scene of a murder.
Clad in comfy clothes and as protected from disaster as possible, I settled back in and grabbed my laptop, ready to do a little snooping on my new world order.
I clicked open theOther bandssub-forum and hunted down the Theater of the Absurd threads. There was a topic specific to Micah that would have pulled back a few years’ worth of tours, meet and greets, and albums. Everyone wanted to talk about the charismatic Micah. There’d been plenty of stories about his hookups, too. Those had often come straight from the gossip magazines—and the very pages of the newspaper Jo had been working at when they met. I would have loved to hear that story directly from her sometime. The unfiltered version.
But it had been a long time since I’d paid much attention to what anyone wrote about Noah. Or Shane. If I ever had.
While I couldn’t find a topic devoted to Shane, I’d apparently created one for Noah at one point. I opened the first page and scanned through the posts. The boy was seriously so pretty he’d inspired a massive collection of photos—onstage, with girls, walking to the bus. I was surprised to find a couple of posts I’d made at some point, appreciating the beauty. The forum had a long, forgotten history sometimes. Between collected pictures, fans shared personal anecdotes about meeting the band. Some days Noah was charming and flirtatious. Other days he was impatient and moody. I’d laughed when Jo had introduced him as a brat. It was the perfect description from everything the fans reported.
The number of Shane photos paled in comparison with those of Noah or Micah. Hidden behind the drums during the shows, he hardly stood out in stage shots. Although he was incredibly cute, next to the preternatural beauty of Micah or Noah, he might come off as a bit ordinary. But he wasn’t completely forgotten, and his name caught my eye in a few posts here and there.
It was like he’d always been there, hidden in plain sight.
I hadn’t set out to stalk him so much as to refresh my memory on things I’d already read at some point. I wanted to try to reconcile my preexisting expectations with my newfound experience. They seemed to line up, but my brain was struggling to find a path from screen fantasy to flesh-and-blood humans.
Woven through the anecdotes, I found more such tales of meet and greets where Shane endeared himself to fans just by being his good-natured self. I smiled remembering exactly how easygoing he’d been compared to Noah, how talking to him had come so easily compared to Micah.
In the Whiplash tour thread, I found a picture of Shane, from the week before, posing with fans. He didn’t seem remotely aware of the camera, didn’t stop and flash a perfected smile. I pulled the screen wider and really looked at him. His lips were frozen as though he were perpetually saying the wordyou. His eyes twinkled, and the girl standing with him smiled so bright, either the photographer had just said, “Say Penis!” or else Shane had told her something to make her laugh. I’d put my money on the latter.
How had he gone unnoticed all this time?
Feeling like I’d found what I hadn’t even known I was looking for, I shut down my laptop and crawled under the fluffy duvet to dream about one of the best days I’d had in a very long time.
Talking Disaster Forum
Topic: Other Bands - Theater of the Absurd - Tours - Spring Fling (with Whiplash) - Philly - Page 8
CubbiesFan wrote:
Noah and Micah were surrounded by a throng. Robin noticed the drummer leaning against a back wall and suggested we chat with him. We had a great conversation with him.
RobinHood wrote:
Cubbie was so nervous to talk to any of the guys. We were dumb enough to basically say, ‘Hi, you’re the drummer, right?’ I don’t recommend this, btw, but he didn’t seem to mind. He even called us out on slumming it with the off-brand musician. He told us he’d forge Noah’s autograph if we didn’t want to wait. Then he went into a hilarious impression of Noah. Cubbie got a couple of pics. I liked this one best:
CubbiesFan wrote:
We finally did meet Noah. He was a bit of a disappointment.
RobinHood wrote:
Noah was a dick. He clearly didn’t want to be there. Not sure why he even showed up to the meet and greet.
McBoatface wrote:
