Page 67 of Hot Mic

Carrie slid into her seat, slipping her headset back over her ears. The red light above the door flared to life.

Robin plastered her easy broadcast smile back onto her face and prayed her voice wouldn’t break on the next question.

Fifty-Eight

A pity snog.

The words rattled around in Sienna’s head like loose gravel in a washing machine. Across the desk, Robin had already plastered a smile on her face as if her heart hadn’t just spilt across the table five seconds ago.

She thought it was pity?!

Sienna had decided for both of them that reframing their history was just what Robin needed. But sitting here in this studio, the truth hit her with the force of a punch.

She’d done it herself. Because Robin was right about her.

Sienna wrapped herself in risk assessments and logic not because she was sensible, but because she was a coward. She was utterly terrified of being honest. With the listeners, with Carrie, with Robin, and, most of all, with herself.

‘Welcome back to Off the Air,’ Carrie said. ‘Before the break, we were discussing the turning point of the Head vs Heart polygraph episode. Now, having watched back… Sienna, you used the word kiss, and then the interview shifted dramatically.’

Carrie turned her gaze toward Robin, with an expression of utter solidarity.

‘Zoe Moore turned her spotlight on you, Robin,’ Carrie said compassionately. ‘She repeatedly pressed you to explain why you initiated that gesture, despite the telemetry spiking and your obvious distress. Watching back, it’s frankly appalling. It wasn’t interviewing. It was harassment.’

Robin shifted in her seat, clearing her throat before leaning toward her microphone. ‘Well... yeah. It was pretty intense in there, to be honest. Sensors strapped to your chest, thousands watching and listening live online. It felt like being backed into a corner.’

‘It was entirely unethical,’ Carrie stated firmly. ‘I think anyone would agree that walking out was understandable. You were under unbearable pressure.’

‘Thanks, Carrie,’ Robin murmured. ‘Yeah. That’s... pretty much how it felt.’

Sienna barely heard them. Because it was happening again. Just like at the Audio Fest panel all those months ago. She was losing it. Watching the woman she cared about accept a neat narrative that erased what had actually happened between them had pushed her over a cliff.

‘No,’ Sienna blurted out.

The word hit the quiet studio like a thunderclap.

Robin’s head whipped around. Across the desk, Carrie raised an eyebrow. ‘Sienna?’ she asked softly.

Sienna’s heart was hammering so hard she could feel it in her teeth.

‘No,’ Sienna repeated. ‘It wasn’t a peck on the cheek. It was a real kiss.’

Robin stared at her, her blue eyes wide with shock. ‘Sienna, don’t—’

‘I lied,’ Sienna said, looking straight across the table into Robin’s eyes, completely ignoring the microphones and Carrie. ‘I lied two minutes ago, and I forced you to lie too. I’m sorry. And the second time we kissed, on that street after I chased you down—Sorry, Carrie, just want to get on the record that there was a second kiss that I initiated— it certainly wasn’t pity. I kissed you in the street because I wanted to. I was falling in love with you, Robin. And for a minute, I managed not to be frightened long enough to do something about it. But I’m sitting here now, and it’s the same old story. I’m sorry, Robin. You’ve always seen me for what I was. A chicken.’

Robin’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her eyes were swimming with an overwhelming mix of disbelief and shock.

Sienna’s face burned, her entire body vibrating with the terrifying, dizzying freedom of having finally dropped the mask.

Carrie sat entirely still for two long seconds. Then, with the efficiency of a veteran broadcaster, she glanced at the digital clock on her console, smoothly gathered her papers, and leaned back into her microphone.

‘Robin,’ Carrie said. ‘Would you like to say anything to that?’

Sienna didn’t wait for Robin’s response. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look at Robin’s stunned face for another fraction of a second. She shoved her chair back with a loud screech, and bolted out of Studio D.

Fifty-Nine

Robin ran.