Page 47 of Kind of Famous
He breathed my name, and everything broke. My center burst into light and color and sugar and joy. I released an earth-shattering moan and began to sob all at once.
Shane pulled out. “Are you hurt?”
“No. No.” I didn’t sound convincing at all. My voice quivered with emotion, and tears leaked down my temples. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to me tight. “You just sort of sent me somewhere I’d never been.”
He dropped beside me, panting, and I worried he’d stopped before he’d finished. I threw my leg back over him, but he laughed and said, “You’re kidding.” He ran a hand across his sweaty forehead. “I won’t be ready to go again for a long while. You just took everything I had.”
The proof was in the reality of post-sex condom cleanup after which he came back to bed and tucked up beside me. I laid my head against his chest, and his arms encircled me. I didn’t want to move from that spot ever again. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so safe and loved and cared for at any other time in my life.
Chapter Twelve
Sometime in the night, I awoke to the sound of my phone’s ringtone on the lower floor. I lay on one side of the bed with the blanket tucked over me and Shane’s arm laced under mine. I wanted to stay in the warmth of his body, but I had an urgent need to pee. I slipped out from under the covers, careful not to jar Shane. He snorted and rolled onto his back. In the dim light, I could make out his inky chest rising and falling.
Although that body he’d kept under wraps made me go weak at the knees, what really sucker-punched me was his gentle face as he slept. I knelt down and put my chin on the mattress just to gaze at his sweet lips that were quick with an awkward analogy or a surprising compliment or a goofy joke. And they knew how to kiss. His nose was a bit crooked, but that only made him more interesting to look at. His skin was smooth like milk, except for the dusting of freckles, like my own. Thankfully our similarities stopped there, or I might start to worry we’d come to find out we were secret siblings. His hair was red, but not orange like mine. He was ginger; I was pumpkin.
What I liked best about him was absent while he slept. What endeared him to me was how his pretty blue eyes saw me. How his pretty lips spoke to me.
I stood and stretched. There was a bathroom upstairs, but I didn’t want to wake Shane—especially not that way. I found my clothes and carefully wound back down the spiral stairs to the lower floor. I’d spied a half bathroom on our way in and located it easily. I peeked in his cabinet to find travel-sized soap, toothpaste, lotion, mouthwash. I squeezed some toothpaste on my finger and gave my teeth a pitiful scrub.
Then I went into his kitchen to snoop around. His stainless-steel fridge was stocked with the usual, though his choices amused me. He had a penchant for brands I’d never heard of—probably from some local store that imported only the finest from the hills of New Zealand or from local organic sustainable farms. His milk came in a glass bottle. He had both jalapeno and raspberry-chipotle-flavored bacon, like he subscribed to some kind of bacon-of-the-month club. I giggled at his imagined bacon fetish.
Glass bottles labeledAntipodesappeared to be water, and I hoped it didn’t cost $200 an ounce because I took one and cracked it open. I also plucked a brownish pear from a bowl and went to dig my phone out of my purse. I passed another bookcase on my way to the inviting overstuffed sofa in the living area. I perused one shelf, charmed by his assorted collection. No leather-bound editions here.Brave New World,Lord of the Flies,1984,Slaughterhouse Five. They were so dog-eared, he’d either bought them at a used bookstore and left them here for show, or he’d read the shit out of them.
I had to question for a moment if his entire apartment was staged. The pretentious food in his kitchen, the implication he read widely, the character in every piece of furniture, the perfectly chosen paint colors—all wrapped in a deceptively shady exterior. I took a bite of the perfectly ripe brown pear, pondering the mystery, and realized that the apartment was a little metaphor for Shane himself. The best of him was happening on the inside. My little secret.
The battery on my phone was running on fumes, but Shane had left a cord on the small side table. Thankfully it was the right kind, so I plugged it into the port and sat down to find out who’d been trying to reach me.
The most recent text came from Jo:I assume you’re with Shane. Could you text me and let me know so I don’t worry? —Mom
Aw. Crap. I should have let her know where I’d gone. It was sweet of her to put the onus on herself for worrying rather than on me for being a rude guest. I quickly texted:I’m so sorry. Shane and I got to talking. I guess I fell asleep here.
I paused before hitting send. Should I tell her when I’d be back? I didn’t know myself. Would I be able to get into her place in the morning to change for work? I hadn’t thought this out at all. I figured if she responded to my text, I could make a plan.
The next text was from my actual mom, approving of Jo’sHamiltonT-shirt from Monday night and checking in to see how things were going. I didn’t respond right away because I didn’t want her to wonder what I was doing up at—I checked the time—six in the morning.
It surprised me it wasn’t earlier. I glanced out the window and noticed the sky had brightened considerably. The sun would be up soon, and I’d need to decide what to do about my morning commute. A change of clothes would have been nice, but the clothes I’d worn out would suffice. They weren’t the same as I’d worn to the office the day before. I could take the subway directly from Shane’s. I pulled up the MTA map on my phone, and, using GPS, found the nearest stop.
Once I had a plan in place, I curled up onto the sofa to check my website and see if anything interesting was going on. My first stop was to check if Jaclyn had replied to my private message, although given that I was sitting on Shane’s sofa in my underwear, it had become an academic question. Unless I learned he had contracted an infectious disease, there wasn’t much she could tell me that would unravel my own current opinion.
But in fact, her assessment matched my own.
Pumpkin,
You piqued my curiosity. We’ve all been so fixated on the Noah train wreck, I haven’t paid much attention to our dear Shane, lately. He doesn’t typically pick girls up on tour, though, and I can’t find any indication that’s changed. I know I said I wouldn’t pry, but I can’t control what my curiosity does, and I’m deducing the following.
Your friend didn’t likely meet him on the tour, and your timing suggests she met him since he got home, which would mean this week, probably at Noah’s or Micah’s. Micah’s makes more sense considering Noah’s in a foul mood and not up for hosting. So, the friend could be someone Jo knows, either through her work or from her aerobics classes.
Since you’re being coy, I’m guessing it’s someone who works with Jo over at theRock Paper, who wouldn’t want to scream her interest in Shane from the rooftops because it would undermine her credibility or something.
My next thought was that the friend might have met him for something work related, like an interview, but who’d want to interview a drummer? (Rim shot!)
Am I close?
Don’t worry, her secret is safe with me. I’d love to know if I’m in the right ballpark though.
But you just want to know if he’s free and/or a total creep.
Alright, so he’s not currently seeing anyone. His dating history is scattered on the boards if you want to dig around. I will tell you is that he’s both particular and intense. The boy knows what he likes and he goes after it. Your friend shouldn’t take it personally if he doesn’t notice her. If he does notice her, she’ll already know it. He’s kind of obvious.
