And then Shane closes the gap completely, bending down.
Fuck it.
Their lips meet and it’s a little awkward, because Adam’s standing on his toes, and half of him is thinking, Wow Shane’s back must hurt. But it’s also nice, and Shane tastes a bit like coffee and creamer. His hand is in Adam’s hair and he kisses in a way that makes Adam feel it all the way down to his toes, his entire body heating up.
The ding of a phone has them springing apart. Shane’s lips are a little red and Adam is breathing like he’s just run a marathon. They exchange glances before slowly picking up their phones from where they discarded them earlier. Adam has a text from Cameron, with an innuendo about asking for Shane’s phone number, and he hysterically thinks they might be a little past that.
Shane, on the other hand, heaves a sigh, running a hand through his hair to tousle it even more. “My boss needs me to go in early,” he says, more to himself than to Adam.
“Yeah, uh, I need to get home to water my plants,” Adam does not have plants, but maybe he should buy some as a just in case?
“That...sounds important,” Shane says.
“Well, see you tomorrow!” Adam says, then waves and proceeds to flee as fast as humanly possible.
Cameron was right. He really is no good at romance.
Chapter Six
Shane doesn’t usually consider himself an impulsive person. He can’t afford to be. Every time Shane tries for impulsive, it somehow ends up as self-destructive. Like when he dropped out of college or dyed his hair blue. Or got a nose ring when he was drunk with Violet, and she wanted a piercing and demanded they both get piercings, which both got infected three days later. Or, the time he kissed his fellow actor only twenty-four hours ago and the brunet is now steadily ignoring him, in favor of talking with Grace and Stefan, Shane’s counterpart as Demetrius.
Shane’s no stranger to romantic encounters. He’s had his fair share of one night stands over the past couple of years. It’s New York, and he works as a bartender, so he’s bound to get numbers here and there. Bartenders are seen as easily approachable, conquests to be put on someone’s list, so he has the advantage there. And he’s had a fair amount of relationships, though if he thought hard enough, he’d maybe only classify one or two of them as being legitimate.
For some reason, that one single kiss has completely shifted Shane’s world. It had truly been impulsive. If anyone asked, he would swear up and down he’d just been caught up in the moment. Adam had been smiling at him with zero pretense, zero hint of smugness, just a genuine, happy smile. Which, from what he could tell from knowing the other man for a few days, was pretty rare.
But if he was forced to admit the truth, well, there’s just something about Adam. Like an energy that makes Shane want to know more about him or be closer to him. And that energy had pushed Shane, and suddenly they were kissing.
He keeps replaying it in his head. The way Adam’s hand had scraped against the top of his jaw and made every inch of him desire more. Shane wasn’t used to that.
It’s been nearly two days since then and the cast is back in the community center to rehearse. An odd burnt smell still hangs in the air and the vinyl on the stage floor looks like it’s seen better days. The curtain, too, has yet to be replaced and is fraying at the edges. Shane feels all too empathetic with the stage, thinking it looks a little like how he feels on the inside. Maybe that’s too dramatic though.
He tried to talk to Adam earlier but the smaller man quickly positioned himself as far away from Shane as possible, and Shane’s not going to force someone to talk to him.
“Shane!”
Shane nearly jumps at his name being called. When he whirls around, it’s only Charlie. She’s looking up at him, thoroughly bemused, from heavily kohl-lined eyes. “You okay, man?”
“Of course. Why wouldn't I be?”
“You look like you’re about to murder Stefan with all the looks you’re shooting him,” Charlie narrows her eyes at him, looking a bit like a punk-rock owl surveying its prey. “Not that I really took you for the murdering type.”
“I’m not. The murdering type. Or looking at Stefan,” although, the way he and Adam are whispering to each other made him feel almost sick. Which is also ridiculous.
Charlie casts a critical gaze over at the two again. “Adam, then? I thought you guys were getting along better.”
“We were. Are,” Shane corrects.
“Did something happen?”
These actors, Shane thinks wryly, Are way too perceptive. He supposes they have to be, in order to imitate emotions and feelings genuinely, but Shane swore he used to not have any emotions to show. Or he repressed them so hard, he barely even noticed they were there. “No, no. You know Adam.”
“Yeah. He’s an asshole, but he’s kind of a nice asshole. That’s male actors for you.”
“Exactly.”
“Well don’t let him get to you,” Charlie says, punching Shane in the shoulder. He hates to admit it, but it stings. “I’m going to go take a nap. Tell me when we finally start.”
“Sure thing,” Shane watches as she hobbles off and plops herself into a seat, instantly melting into it. His gaze immediately drifts back to Adam and Stefan again, and he can’t help wondering what they’re talking about.
This is ridiculous. Three days ago, Adam and Shane could barely hold a normal conversation. Now, he’s casting moon eyes at him like a high schooler?
Shane is almost grateful when his cell begins to ring. Gratitude turns into confusion when he sees Ben’s name on the screen. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach. He can only hope someone’s become a millionaire and they never need to work again.
Unlikely.
Wandering over to the wings of the stage, he raises the phone to his ear as he accepts the call. “Hey, Ben, what’s up?”
“I need you here, right now,” Ben’s voice is gruff and urgent, but it’s always like that, so Shane doesn’t think much of it.
“What’s wrong? Can Sam not handle anything without me?” he jokes.
Ben is unamused. “Sam quit, Shane. Now I’m going to be shorthanded here tonight, and I need you to pick up the shifts.”
“Oh, shit,” Sam always joked about quitting, but Shane never thought it would actually happen.
“Shane,” Ben barks out. “Do I have to find another bartender, or are you going to come in?”
Fuck. Shane looks around the rehearsal space. With Sam gone, Shane’s the only other bartender, outside of Ben. There’s no way Ben can keep the place open the entire night without him. And if he closes the bar, well, there goes the paycheck. “Okay, okay, I’m on my way. Be right there.”
Shane ends the call, and sends a quick text to Sam which essentially says What the fuck? Then, he jogs over to Violet, who’s in the middle of talking to Cynthia and Kyle about their scene together. “Violet, quick word.”
Violet doesn’t even glance over. “Give me a second, Shane.”
“Violet.”
This time she actually looks up, and there must be something in his eyes, because she nods. “I’ll be right back,” she excuses herself from Cynthia and Kyle, and Shane drags her into the wings, away from the rest of the cast. Violet’s eyebrows furrow once they’re alone and her mouth twists into a frown. “What’s going on, Shane? Don’t tell me you’re trying to quit on me again.”
“Look, Sam just quit the bar, and Ben doesn’t have anyone else besides me.”
“Okay, what does that mean?”
For someone incredibly smart, Violet is surprisingly obtuse at the worst times. “It means I need to go into work. And I’m not sure if I’ll be able to come back, necessarily. But that’s not one hundred percent true yet.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Violet begins to chews on the end of her pen, glaring directly at Shane. “You are quitting on me.”
“I’m not sure,” Shane says hastily. “But…I’m not sure what this means for my work schedule, Violet.”
“Hey, you said you’ve started to like the bar,” Shane says, trying for levity. When Violet doesn’t laugh, he drops the attempt. “Look, I don’t know anything for certain yet, okay? I’ll…I’ll text you, soon. But I have to leave now, Violet.”
Violet shakes her head. “It better just be a text that says I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Shane opens his mouth to say something else, then immediately closes it. With Violet’s glare still on his back and the curious eyes of the rest of the cast following him, he collects his bag. He feels a little numb, but knows he just has to keep moving and hope no one stops him.
“Everything okay?” Charlie asks, as he’s almost out the door.
“Work emergency,” Shane shoulders his bag, offering a tight smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, and desperately hopes it’s not a lie.
Charlie doesn’t look convinced, so he widens his smile, hoping that’ll help. It seems to do something at least, since Charlie nods and allows him to keep going.
Just as he thinks he’s about to make his great escape, a light voice calls him. “Hey, you’re not running away after all this, are you?”
Shane turns to see Adam leaning on the edge of the last row of seating. The house is completely dark, so Shane can’t make out any expression on Adam’s face. “Not exactly,” Shane realizes these are the first words the two of them have exchanged in a few days.
Adam’s completely closed off, arms crossed over his chest. Shane waits for him to speak, after all he always has something to say. But when the other man doesn’t elaborate any further, Shane turns back around. “See you soon, Adam.”
Shane tries not to think of the theater doors shutting behind him as a final closing. He instead focuses on making the trip to the bar. It’s not far from the community center, only a twenty-minute walk. Normally, he doesn’t think anything of it. Today, though, every step seems like a death sentence. Like he’s leaving something behind permanently.
He never got to talk to Adam about the kiss.
* * *
When Shane arrives at the bar not too long after, Ben is beside himself. “Sam’s worked with us for nearly nine years and he just quits,” the older man throws the rag down on the counter, grumbling the entire while. “I swear, Shane, you do things for people, and what do they give you in return? Nothing! You’ll see, Shane. As you get older, you see what people are. They just take and take and take.”
Shane doesn’t respond, focusing on making a drink for a customer instead. Ben’s been on the same tangent for about two hours and shows no sign of stopping. Sam had been apologetic in his text, though it doesn’t make Shane feel any better.
“His girlfriend breaks up with him, and he up and moves to freaking Portland. On a day’s decision! What adult does that?” Ben waves his wiry arms wildly, barely missing knocking over a bottle of bourbon.
Shane grabs the bourbon and moves it away, trying to maintain his cool. He always maintains his cool, that’s what Ben and Sam said. His grip tightens around the bottle. “They had been together twelve years.”
It’s the first time Shane has said anything on the topic in two hours, but Ben zones in on it. He looks like a crow that’s been given a morsel of food and is about ready to gobble it up.
“Oh, so you agree he should just up and leave us?”
“This isn’t the mafia, Ben,” Shane says tiredly.
“No. If it was, I’d have some fucking loyalty from you guys.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Ben huffs, slamming a glass into the sink. Shane’s frankly impressed it doesn’t break. For a moment, he thinks Ben’s about to explode, but the man’s entire body seems to deflate, shoulders slumping, anger finally seeming to drain out of him. Ben hobbles over to the counter, leaning over it.
“Yeah, you’re here. I can always count on you to be here, Shane,” Ben nods vigorously, scrubbing at his eyes. “The next two weeks aren’t going to be easy. We’re going to need to train a new bartender, which means you’re going to have to take your night shifts back.”
It’s quite possibly the last thing Shane wants to hear. “Shit, Ben. What am I supposed to do about rehearsals then?”
Shane regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. Ben whirls around, anger back in full force. “What? You’re going to pick a play over your job? You gonna leave like Sam? If that’s the case, then I can hire two bartenders. What’s loyalty in this day and age, anyway?” Ben’s face falls then. He’s an old man with no one else. Shane realizes he, Sam, and the bar are probably the closest thing to stability the old man has. And it’s been Shane’s second home for nearly the last decade as well.
In the face of that, what’s a tiny theater production? One where he isn’t particularly wanted all the time anyway?
“You’re right, Ben. It’ll be okay. We’ll work things out here.”
Ben gruffly grips Shane’s shoulder. “I knew I could count on you, Shane. I can always count on you.”
Shane’s glad someone seems to think so.
Then he remembers Violet’s going to kill him in a few days and winces. Shane hopes he and the bar are both able to survive her hellfire.
Chapter Seven
“So you haven’t seen him in two days?” Cameron sweeps her violet bangs out of her eyes, as she counts the money in her hand and makes a note on her sheet.
“No,” Adam replies, trying to focus on not spilling the coffee beans all over the floor. In his defense, he hasn’t been able to focus much these past few days, let alone at five in the morning. “Not a hint, not a hair, not even an eyelash.”
“Why don’t you text him?” Cameron asks, making, perhaps, the first reasonable suggestion she’s ever made to Adam in his history of knowing her.
“I don’t have his number.”
“You kissed him and you still don’t have his number?”
Adam grimaces, shoving the filter into the coffee machine harder than he needs to. Not for the first time, he regrets telling Cameron about the kiss. But goddamn it, when she started up again about his romantic life, what was he supposed to do? So, he had broken. It had at least been worth it when Cameron simply stood there, gaping.
Not to mention, he needed to talk about it with someone. And who else was he supposed to talk about it with? His roommate, who left his dirty socks on the kitchen floor every morning? His mother, who would start on a long rant about why he hadn’t brought a nice boy home yet, or his father, who gets that oddly blank expression on his face whenever he’s reminded that Adam’s gay? Certainly none of his acting friends, who’d probably spread the news to the rest of the community in minutes.
Cameron, unfortunately, was the safest bet.
“Honestly, Adam. Usually, you get the number before you start making out with them. You know, so if you like it you can do it again.”
“There wasn’t exactly a lot of time between, ‘Hey, let’s practice lines,’ and me leaving his apartment. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, we don’t really like each other, but can I have your number?’”
“Hate sex is a thing,” Cameron points out.
“You would know.”
“I would,” Cameron says smugly. “But come on. You’ve gone on dates before, you know what it’s like.”
“Sure, with dating apps. Not someone that knows people I know or whatever. Not that it matters now, I guess, since it looks like I’m never going to see him again.”
“You’re hopeless.”
Adam can’t help but agree, but he’s never going to tell her that.
“You never know, though? He might turn up today. Although, it’s kinda nice right? Since you get
to play a bigger role.”
“Yeah,” but Adam’s voice sounds hollow and he grimaces. “It’s nice.”
* * *
As it turns out, Shane’s still not at rehearsal when Adam arrives later. He puts his bad mood down to the terrible customers he had earlier in the day and the coffee staining his favorite t-shirt. Today, Adam’s the last to show up, something that’s happened only once before. The rest of the cast have already spread out amongst themselves. Dropping his bags, he joins Grace, Charlie, and Stefan by the stage.
“Still no Shane?” he says in lieu of a greeting.
Charlie shakes her head. “I texted him but no response.”
Adam tells himself he’s not annoyed that Charlie has Shane’s number. He reminds himself he’s an adult and could easily ask if he wanted to, but he doesn’t need to.
“It’s a shame, really,” Grace’s eyebrows pinch together, as she twirls the end of her ponytail in one hand. “I was really getting fond of working with him.”
“He did get much better,” Stefan says. “And it was nice to have fresh blood in the show.”
“Maybe he’ll come today,” Charlie pulls out her phone, as if that would make him miraculously appear.
Violet takes that moment to make her entrance, a grim look on her face. She doesn’t look particularly happy on a normal rehearsal day, but today, her hair has frizzed out completely, and her mouth is set so deep in a scowl Adam wonders if she painted it on. She takes her place at the end of the stage. “I’ve got news for everyone, which I’m sure no one will be surprised by,” she rubs the side of her temples, closing her eyes briefly. The rest of the cast holds it breath, or at least, Adam feels like they are. Dropping her hands, Violet reopens her eyes. “Shane, unfortunately, has to drop out due to work conflicts.”
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