27
Even with the best of intentions, Shane and Lilah’s new relationship quickly began to look a lot like their old one, the two of them rarely going anywhere other than the Intangible set and their houses. Not that either of them minded—their schedule was as exhausting as ever, plus they were ten years older. He wondered how it was possible to be so happy from doing so little, just because it was with her. That he could spend practically every waking minute with her, both on set and at home, and still feel like it wasn’t enough.
He’d expected the general reaction to their relationship amongst their co-workers to be positive, but wary—a collective holding of breath, since they all knew what would happen if he and Lilah stopped getting along again. But to his surprise, everyone seemed to be genuinely, unreservedly happy for them. He knew they’d all bonded over the past several months, but this was the first time it truly struck him what a unified front they’d become.
Basking in the glow of their reignited flame was the perfect distraction from the uncomfortable truth that neither of them had any idea what the end of Intangible held for them. It seemed like every day they arrived at work to the news that someone else had found a new job: Margaux and Brian’s spin-off was moving forward with a real pilot, Rafael had booked a supporting role in a superhero franchise, Natalie was joining the ensemble of a big-budget streaming sci-fi show.
In the short term, they discussed spending the summer traveling—meeting each other’s families, knocking international cities off their respective bucket lists, renting a house in the woods or on a secluded island so they could really be alone. For the first time since he’d found out the show was ending, the prospect of the future filled him with more excitement than terror.
It was uncanny how natural it felt to stop thinking of his plans as singular, only concerning him, and open his life up to encompass the two of them as a unit without missing a beat. He’d never felt so in sync with a partner before—ironic, considering how at odds they’d been even a few months ago. But maybe that had been necessary, the friction sanding down the last edges that had prevented them from fitting together as seamlessly as they did now.
One night in early February, cuddling on Lilah’s couch after work, she brought up the upcoming convention in March so offhandedly that Shane did a double take.
“What? You’re going? Since when?”
She craned her head to look at him, confused. “I didn’t tell you? Jasmine just confirmed with them this week.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “And you’re doing everything? The panel and the meet and greet and everything?”
“Do you not want me to?”
He pulled her closer, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “Of course I want you to.” She settled against him with a sigh, and he ran his fingers absentmindedly up and down the bare skin of her upper arm. “Are you nervous?” he murmured against her hair.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I think you’re right, that it’ll be easier for me now. I’m just worried that people will be extra…intense. About us.”
He was silent for a moment, his hand moving up to stroke her hair. A knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach—both for her fears and for the fact that they were well founded.
“Whatever happens, we can handle it.”
She craned her head to look at him, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. He leaned in to kiss her, slowly, tenderly. He was still getting used to being able to kiss her like this, a kiss that had nothing to do with sex. A kiss that felt like a confession, a confirmation, an appreciation, all at once.
…
The week before they were set to leave for the convention, Shane grabbed a quick coffee with Dean during a break on set. They’d barely seen each other lately—Shane spent most of his nights at Lilah’s, and even when he was at his own place, Dean was scarce.
There was a slight frisson of awkwardness between them as they placed their orders, Dean visibly distracted, answering Shane’s questions with terse one- or two-word responses.
When Dean went to the bathroom, he left his phone sitting on the table. It buzzed and lit up, Shane’s eye drawn to it automatically.
It wasn’t like he was trying to snoop. But even upside down, he could read his own name in the text message preview.
RENATA: Have you told Shane yet?
Shane’s heart skidded in his chest. He turned the phone toward him, rereading it right side up, just to be sure. But it still said the same thing. Immediately, he flashed back to the night before he’d left for Vancouver—how evasive Dean had been about who he was going to dinner with, how elusive he’d been since. Was it possible he’d taken his flirting with Renata to the next level?
He looked up to see Dean approaching the table, his brow already creased when he saw Shane with his phone.
“Are you sleeping with Renata?” Shane blurted out before he could stop himself.
Dean frowned even deeper, incredulous, as he snatched his phone out of Shane’s hand and sat down again. “What? No, I’m…I’m her client now.” He delivered the last part without looking at Shane, his defensiveness giving way to embarrassment.
Shane blinked. “You’re her client? Since when?”
Dean shrugged, still avoiding his eyes, and sipped his coffee. “A few months.”
“And you just weren’t going to tell me?”
“I was waiting until I booked something.” Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Shane realized his mouth was hanging open, so he forcibly shut it. “Why?”
“You mean, why didn’t I tell you?” Dean raised his eyebrows sardonically. “Maybe because you were more willing to jump to the conclusion that I was banging her than working with her?”
Shane felt his face heat but didn’t say anything. Dean continued. “And if you mean, why am I working with her…” He looked down into his cup. “Don’t get me wrong, man. I’m grateful to you for bringing me out here, for setting me up with this gig all these years. But…you were right that day, even if you were a fucking asshole about it. I can’t just keep following you around, being your shadow forever.” He glanced back up, meeting Shane’s eyes. “And I don’t want to be your excuse, either.”
Shane frowned. “My excuse?”
Dean smirked, shaking his head. “I know you. You’d take a job you hated just so you could bring me along. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t need it. Whatever you do next, I don’t want you worrying about me to be a factor.”
Shane’s throat tightened. “Right.” He took a sip of his coffee to stall for time, settling into this new reality. To his surprise, his annoyance had already begun to fade, replaced by something that felt a lot like pride. And only the slightest twinge of jealousy that Dean felt so optimistic about pursuing a future that Shane had never felt more ambivalent about. “So, what has she been sending you out for?”
Dean’s face cleared, the last traces of apprehension dissipating. “Mostly commercials, so far. Some modeling stuff. Renata says I’d be great for unscripted, but she’s still looking for the right fit. And I’ve been taking acting classes on the weekends. Improv, too.”
“That’s great,” Shane said, with unforced enthusiasm. “I’m really happy for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ve never seen you get this excited about anything work-related.”
Dean grinned. “Believe it or not, this is slightly more appealing than scooping ice cream at Braum’s or standing around waiting for them to set up the lights for you.” He raised an eyebrow. “But can your ego handle it?”
Shane laughed. “I think I’ll survive.”