Page 83 of The Prime-Time Experiment

“Yeah,” she said easily. “I am. And you must be the famous Ebony.”

Ebony’s face turned downwards in a slight frown, obviously confused. “I’m not famous.”

“You are to her,” Dee replied, nodding toward Riley.

Ebony glanced back at Riley, visibly pleased by that information, as though it confirmed something she already suspected.

Riley felt something in her chest loosen again.

The group stabilised around her, conversation continuing without requiring her direct input. The noise of the room didn’t disappear, but it no longer pressed in the same way. It layered instead in a structured, predictable enough way to process without strain.

No one redirected attention toward her. No one required a response she hadn’t chosen to give. He remained where she was, observing, tracking, adjusting only when necessary. And for the first time in an environment like this she was not calculating how to exit it. She was simply… existing within it.

❈

The awards portion of the night had come and gone in a blur of lights, applause, and names Riley didn’t fully track. She had followed the structure; stood when others stood, clapped when appropriate, observed the rhythm of the room and mirrored it just enough to remain within it but it had required more focus than the earlier part of the evening.

The noise had built gradually.

Not all at once, not enough to overwhelm immediately, but layer by layer until it pressed in from all sides. Voices, laughter, the sharp crack of microphones adjusting, the echo of speakers carrying across the room just a fraction too loudly. Riley felt it before she consciously registered it, her shoulders tightening, her attention splintering slightly as her brain tried to process too many inputs at once.

Across the table, Ebony had stilled too. It was subtle, the kind of shift Riley might not have noticed if it did not happen to her too, the way Ebony’s hands curled slightly against the edge of the table. The way her gaze dropped, her earlier brightness dimming into something quieter, more inward.

Declan noticed too. He didn’t hesitate. He reached into his jacket pocket with an ease that suggested familiarity, pulling out a small case and flipping it open without drawing attention to the movement.

“Hey,” he said softly to Ebony, leaning just slightly closer. “Loops.”

Ebony looked up immediately, relief flickering across her face as he placed them in her hand. “Oh,” she said, exhaling. “Thank you, Uncle D.”

She put them in quickly, practised, her shoulders lowered almost instantly as the edge of the noise dulled around her. Riley watched the shift happen in real time, the way Ebony’s breathing evened out, her posture softened as the environment became manageable again.

Declan’s gaze flicked to Riley then, just for a second like something clicked into place a moment too late.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, quiet enough that it didn’t carry beyond them. His expression shifted not dramatically, but enough that she could see the thought process behind it. He reached back into his pocket, pulling out a second pair.

“I should’ve given you these earlier,” he said, his voice low, threaded with something that felt like genuine regret. “I didn’t think—” He stopped himself, then shook his head slightly. “I forgot.”

Riley looked at the small ear buds in his hand, then at him. There was no expectation in the gesture. No insistence. Just an offering. She took them.

“Thank you,” she said, her tone even, but softer than usual. He nodded once, watching as she mirrored Ebony’s movement, placing them in carefully. The difference was immediate.

She assumed they used something along the lines of the occlusion effect, she could still hear the microphone and the people at the table, but the overlapping noise flattened, softened into something more distant, more manageable. The sharp edges dulled. The room remained active, alive, but it no longer pressed against her in the same way.

Riley inhaled slowly. Then exhaled. Her shoulders lowered a fraction. And for the first time since the awards had begun, her system settled.

When she looked back at Declan, he was already watching her. Not intensely. Not searching for a reaction. Just… checking. She nodded once, a small confirmation that they worked.

Something in his expression eased. “Sorry,” he said again, quieter now.

Riley considered that. “There’s no need to apologise for trying to correct a variable,” she replied. “The delay is not a factor when I did not know of its existence.”

His mouth lifted slightly at that, something warm flickering across his expression before he looked away, letting the moment pass without drawing attention to it.

The rest of the evening shifted after that. Dinner moved gradually, the group relocating to a table set slightly away from the main crowd. The noise dulled further there, no longer layered in a way that demanded constant filtering. Conversation became more contained, more navigable, and Riley found herself… settling into it.

She sat between Declan and Dee, a deliberate placement by Declan she was sure. Declan’s presence on her right was steady, consistent. Not intrusive, not demanding, but there in a way that grounded rather than distracted. The space between them was small enough to register, large enough to remain intentional.

She was aware of him continuously. The proximity. The quiet warmth of it. The way her body tracked him without needing instruction to do so. And all she noticed was that she didn’t want to pull away from it. Across from her, Dee and Tyler were still talking, the ease between them carrying over from earlier. If anything, it had deepened. Their conversation shifted from surface-level exchanges into something more engaged, more thoughtful. Dee’s posture had straightened slightly, her tone more deliberate as she spoke, her attention fully locked onto him.