I eased back, knowing to Shea, it mattered, and it was damned near terrifying realizing how much it mattered to me.
My chest tightened.
She mattered.
Shea smiled, confusion weaving across her brow, and she tilted her head as if she were trying to dig into my thoughts. Quickly, I turned away before I lost a little more of myself, and strode back toward the booth.
Lyrik rubbed at the back of his neck, laughing while his dark eyes met mine, like he was giving me a you’re welcome for forcing me here and back into this place three weeks ago. What he didn’t know was I could never have stayed away.
Then I stopped dead when I heard it.
Dread lifted the hairs at the nape of my neck before it went slithering down my spine. It spread out, closing in on me. Snuffing out the air.
That fucking shrieking, high-pitched squeal.
My name.
My name.
“Oh my God…it is. It’s really him. It’s Sebastian Stone.”
Blood drained from my head, and I could feel it rushing through my ears, siphoning down to pound a frenzied beat at my heart. A cold sweat broke out on my neck.
The shrieking just got louder when I felt this unwanted attention travel to the corner, to that safe place where we’d come to hide. “It’s all of them. Sunder!”
I could feel my crew come to awareness, feel their own unease, although it was anticipated—something we’d grown used to—as annoying as it was, when we just wanted to be left alone.
I squinted back at the unknown girl who thought she knew us, standing out in the front of her small group of friends. A camera flash went off, and I wanted to rush her, rip it from her hands, and smash it into a thousand pieces.
But instead my gaze glided to the bar, drawn to the one. And I knew. I knew I fucking should have just told her, laid it all out, but I hadn’t had anything that felt good in so long. For just a few weeks, I wanted that with Shea. A chance to just be me. A chance to just be.
Hands were suddenly on me, tugging at my shirt, vying for my attention. But my complete attention was trained on Shea where she’d frozen in the spot I’d just left her, head shaking, brown eyes rounded in confusion.
The girl I wanted to knock flat kept repeating my name.
Shea shook and stumbled back against one of the bar stools, something like hurt horror taking hold of her expression as realization set in.
Tamar scrambled for her, ducking under the end of the bar and coming to her side, touching her shoulder as she whispered something frantic and fast at her ear.
She was comforting her, I knew. Tamar wasn’t there to call me out. For some reason, she’d kept my secret for all this time. Whole lot of good that did me, considering this bitch pawing at me had just provided the kill shot.
Tears slipped down Shea’s face as Tamar gave her whatever explanation she felt she owed her, the lights from above glinting off her cheeks.
Betrayal.
I knew that’s what she was seeing when she looked across at me, but I’d been more honest with Shea than I’d been with anyone in my life.
Flinging off the obnoxious hands, I went for her.
But Shea was backing away, shaking her head, the movement quickening with distress the closer I got. Something broke in her expression, her hand pressed to her mouth as if to hold back a sob, and she pulled away from Tamar and ran.
Fled.
Pushing through the crowd, she fumbled on her too-high boots in her bid to escape, almost slipping, but she caught herself before she fell, propelling herself forward and through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.
I was right behind her, didn’t hesitate to barrel through.
Shea slammed the door to the break room where I’d carried her three weeks before.
I grabbed the knob, yanked at it hard.
The thin door rattled but didn’t give.
My hand cracked against the wood. “Come on, Shea. Open the door. Let me explain.”
Her breaths were heavy and distinct, and I knew she was holding herself up against the other side.
“Shea,” I murmured quietly, like an apology, dropping my forehead to the door. “Please.”
But what was I gonna say?
Now she knew and she was never going to look at me the same.
And I was left without a reason to keep pretending.
I PRESSED MY HAND TO MY MOUTH and tried to hold back the sob seeking release. Maybe if I stayed quiet enough, hid myself, I’d disappear. Magically removed from this situation. This painful, painful situation.
God, I was such a fool.
Such a fool¸ and I felt embarrassed and pathetic and hurt.
The hurt was the worst part.
He banged on the door. Once. Twice. I cringed against the force of it, silently begging him to go away. I squeezed my eyes closed, tears continuing to slip out the sides as I struggled to remain standing under my weakened knees.