Goodbye to a World | shane walsh

13 | after the party

Friday had rolled around quickly. It was a quarter past eight in the evening, Nola and Shane were just about ready to leave to go to the Anderson's party. Nola awaited outside the bathroom, wondering what could possibly be taking Shane so long. She was the girl, after all.

"Shane! Seriously, c'mon, we're already late." She shouted, knocking loudly against the door. 

"Just give me a damn minute!" He shouted back, his voice muffled through the wood.

Nola huffed in exasperation, tapping her foot impatiently. She crossed her arms, trying to suppress a smile as she imagined what could be taking Shane so long. He wasn't exactly the type to fuss over his appearance, but tonight seemed different. After a few more moments of waiting, her curiosity got the best of her.

"Alright, that's it," she muttered under her breath, pushing the door open without warning.

Shane was standing in front of the mirror, his broad shoulders hunched as he fumbled with his hair, his brow furrowed in concentration. The sight of him, usually so confident and self-assured, looking almost vulnerable, made Nola pause in the doorway. His dark hair was damp, and he was trying—unsuccessfully—to get it to stay back and upwards, though strands kept coming forwards. The frustration was evident in his tense posture.

"Shane," Nola called out softly, a hint of amusement in her voice.

He spun around at the sound of her voice, startled, his expression quickly shifting from surprise to mild annoyance. "What the hell, Nola? Can't a guy have a minute to himself?"

Nola couldn't help but smile as she stepped further into the bathroom. "Not when he's taking forever and we're late for a party," she teased, her gaze softening as she took in the sight of him. He looked good—really good, actually—in the crisp black button-up shirt and dark jeans, a few buttons undone, but it was clear he was struggling with his hair.

Shane ran a hand through his hair, giving up with a sigh. "This damn thing won't stay up," he grumbled, his frustration evident.

Nola chuckled, closing the distance between them. "Here, let me help," she offered, her tone gentle as she reached up to take over.

Shane hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, before he finally relented with a small nod. Nola's fingers gently combed through his hair, smoothing it back into place with a practiced ease. Her touch was soft but firm, and Shane found himself relaxing under her careful attention. She tousled a strand of his hair between her fingers, letting it fall to his forehead while the rest stayed up and back.

"There," she murmured, stepping back slightly to admire her handiwork. "Much better."

Shane looked at her through the mirror, his expression softening as their eyes met. "Thanks," he said quietly, his voice low and sincere.

Nola smiled up at him, her hand lingering on his shoulder. "Anytime," she replied, her voice equally soft. There was a warmth between them, an unspoken understanding that passed in the quiet moments they shared.

For a moment, neither of them moved, both caught in the unexpected intimacy of the situation. Finally, Nola gave him a gentle nudge. "C'mon, let's go before we're any later," she said, her voice light but her eyes still holding that tender gaze.

Shane nodded, taking a deep breath before following her out of the bathroom. "Lead the way, darlin'," he said, his tone a bit lighter, though the connection they'd just shared still lingered between them as they headed out to the party.

The two left their apartment swiftly, Shane lingering behind Nola as they walked down the dark street. He admired her slight sway in her hips as she walked, the blue jeans she wore fitting her perfectly and the deep red sweater that hung snugly around her small frame. She glanced back, her dark curled hair flipping around as her eyes found his.