15
Once the season began airing and the flurry of press surrounding the premiere died down, Shane quickly fell back into his normal routine, the next several weeks passing in a blur.
He’d been worried his encounter with Lilah on the stairs would make things even more awkward between them. When he’d slid into the chair next to hers in the makeup trailer a few hours later, he’d expected her to greet him as usual—that is, not at all. Instead, she’d glanced at him, raised her eyebrows for a split second, then turned back to the mirror, a hint of a smile on her lips.
It was like someone had opened a release valve, heading off the inevitable explosion just in time. Their therapy sessions helped, but that wasn’t all of it. Maybe it was because he’d given a name to it at last, acknowledging out loud the connection that still sizzled between them like a live wire. They seemed able to relate only in extremes, either all over each other or each pretending the other one didn’t exist. It made sense that, now that they’d finally started to work though their issues, they’d inevitably swing back toward the other end.
He hadn’t really meant it, though. Like all their games, it was about trying to get her to blink first, admit something she’d rather hide. He told himself that even if he hadn’t forcibly removed himself from the situation, it still wouldn’t have gone any further—even though she’d been looking at him like she wanted to devour him whole.
But she was right. There was no way to undo the years of backbiting, sniping, and petty revenge they’d inflicted upon each other.
Probably.
In late October, they began prep to shoot the biggest episodes of the season, a moment nine years in the making: the climactic two-parter where Kate finally regains her corporeal form, culminating in a passionate kiss between her and Harrison. They’d be traveling to Vancouver for three weeks to shoot it, and, in something of a coup, it would be guest directed by Jonah Dempsey, the twenty-four-year-old wunderkind whose premium cable show, Head Case, had swept the Emmys the year before.
Shane wasn’t sure it was necessary. Intangible had never been known for its directorial flair. Like most network shows, it was helmed by a small rotating group of regulars who were valued more for their ability to stay on schedule than their visual panache. But, like the location change, it was meant to send a message: these episodes were a Big Fucking Deal.
As the Vancouver shoot drew closer, the prospect of the kiss loomed large, casting a shadow over everything else. Their personal baggage aside, kissing someone onscreen was an unpleasant experience more often than not. It was tough to get lost in the moment with half his mind focused on how it would look from the outside, and the other half trying to ignore the dozens of people crowded around watching.
He wanted to believe it would be the same with Lilah. But if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t say there had ever been a time he’d kissed her without feeling anything.
The night before his flight, Shane dawdled around his room, throwing T-shirts and jeans into his open suitcase.
“Can I take the BMW tonight?”
He looked up to see Dean in the doorway.
Serena had given it to him, a sterling-silver roadster—the kind of flashy, ostentatious gift she was fond of. He’d always felt like a douchebag driving it, a feeling that had been confirmed when he’d pulled up to set in it for the first time. Lilah had passed as he was getting out, looked him up and down, and smirked without saying anything. After that, it mostly sat in his garage.
“Sure. You know you don’t have to ask.” Shane dug around in his hamper, looking for his favorite pair of jeans. “What are you doing?”
Dean shrugged. “I’m just going out.” His shifty, faux-casual demeanor made Shane do a double take.
“Oh yeah? Where?”
“Dinner. Carlo’s.”
“With who?”
Dean shrugged again.
“Okay, then.” Shane returned his attention to his suitcase, pulling out everything he’d haphazardly thrown in and sorting and rolling it. “Just don’t trash the place while I’m gone.”
Only the six principals and essential production staff would be traveling to Vancouver, with most of the crew—including stand-ins—hired locally.
Dean grinned. “You’ll never even know I was here.”
“What are you talking about? You’re always here.”
It was meant to be a joke, but when Shane looked up from his suitcase, the amusement had faded from Dean’s face.
“I mean—not in a bad way,” Shane quickly amended. “I like having you here. Obviously.”
“Of course you do,” Dean said, his expression lightening, to Shane’s relief. “Someone’s got to keep you company. Since you’re so sad and alone these days.”
“I’m not sad,” Shane protested. He went into his en suite bathroom to pack up his toiletries, and Dean came into the bedroom, taking a seat on the bed next to Shane’s suitcase.
“But you are alone.”
“So?”
“So, I’ve never seen you single for this long. I think it might be a record.”
Shane opened his mouth to protest but realized Dean was right. His last relationship had ended in May—almost six months ago, making it the longest stretch of time since high school he’d been not only single but celibate.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Just trying to look out for you, man. You’re not getting any younger, and I’m not gonna be around forever.”
“What? Why? Are you okay?” Shane asked, poking his head out of the bathroom in alarm. Dean laughed.
“Living here, I mean. Sorry. I don’t know why I said it like that.”
Shane laughed, too, ducking back inside the bathroom.
“I’ve been busy,” he said, zipping up his dopp kit and returning to the bedroom to drop it into his suitcase. “I don’t know if I want to try to date again until after the show’s over. It’s kind of pulling all my focus right now.”
“Right,” Dean said. “The show is what’s pulling your focus.”
Shane looked up at Dean, who held his gaze, as if daring him to ask what he was talking about—to try to deny it, force Dean to say her name first.
Shane exhaled, shaking his head.
“Listen,” he said, closing his suitcase. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. When you said nothing happened with her back then. That was really fucked up of me.”
Dean’s expression turned serious. “No, I’m sorry. I never should’ve gone home with her in the first place.”
“I get it. I was an asshole. I deserved it. From both of you.”
“Yeah, but…I don’t think I really understood, not until after. The way things were between you two. Even now.”
“What do you mean, now?” Shane asked, his mind immediately flashing to the premiere party: Lilah’s request for a shotgun, how he’d reached his hand out for the joint without even thinking about it, Dean passing it to him without a word.
“Come on,” Dean said. “What about the first table read? Didn’t you drive, like, forty minutes out of your way to get those donuts she likes?”
Shane blinked. “Well, yeah. But I didn’t do it because she likes them, I did it to mess with her.”
Dean furrowed his brow in a fake-pensive expression. “I wonder what it would be like to have someone so obsessed with me that they arrange their whole day around finding incredibly specific ways to rile me up.”
Shane scowled. “I’m not obsessed with her.”
“Whatever you say,” Dean said with an evil grin, standing up and stretching. “You’re just lucky she hasn’t taken out a restraining order against you. But it kinda seems like she’s into it, so maybe you freaks really are made for each other.”
Shane shook his head. “I think that ship has sailed. And sunk. That ship is at the bottom of the ocean, full of seaweed and skeletons in pirate hats.”
“Guess it’s time to get over it, then.” Dean headed out of the room, pausing in the doorway. “When you get back, we’re signing you up for one of those dating sites where they make you answer, like, a hundred different questions about your favorite pasta shape and what you want to do with your body after you die.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Why not? Worried it’ll just spit out a picture of Lilah at the end?”
Dean was already halfway down the hall before Shane had a chance to respond.