Glimpse

Chapter 26: Shayne

Mouthwatering scents of spices and meat wafted through the cozy, traditional-style Mexican restaurant that Ian had chosen. Bright orange walls contrasted the vibrant green trim outlining the windows. Intricate, hand-painted murals graced any vacant space, black-lined neon colors portraying an homage to Mexican culture.

White laminate counters sandwiched between faux green leather booths spotted the walls. They boxed in stand-alone tables littering the floor, armless chairs tucked under circular wood tops. All empty, the handful of lunch patrons occupying the booths instead.

Soft guitar muffled conversations, the crisp finger-picked notes filtering through the wall-mounted speakers hiding in the corners. Despite one located above their booth, Shayne's worry drowned it out.

Waking up to Ian's text had kickstarted their chaos-clogged brains into a frenzy, exhausted bodies scrambling at his reminder. How they had managed to forget still perplexed Shayne though the entropy corroding their day-to-day lives, as of late, provided a logical yet unusable justification. Hysteria lacing desperation, their frantic supplications for a raincheck had been dismissed, Ian's insistence on this meeting swarming them with dread.

Faux leather squeaked as Shayne shifted his weight, restless energy inundating his skin. A vibrating hum. Circumspective blues flickered between Ian across the table and Courtney beside him, crushed against the wall. Space. Striving to create distance to simulate the illusion of 'just friends'. A denial-drenched lie. Ian knew, but admitting their truth just seemed daunting.

Truth be told, Shayne wanted to confess, his usual requirement of privacy taking second stage. Old and new traits contradicting disquieted his nerves. Misaligned elements of himself. Blaming Alternate Shayne disappointed, this compulsion to concede stemming from something outside Alternate Shayne's drive to claim, to show Courtney off to the world.

No. It originated from a far more selfless quality.

Last night's aftershocks still lingered, both his and hers. Though he could handle himself just fine, Shayne fretted that with her fragile mental state, the stress of lying for a lost cause would overwhelm her. In the end, denying her desire alluded him, her timid pleading and puppy-dog eyes overriding his resolve.

Though her confidence in his inadequate capacity to bluff baffled him.

"Shayne, you still with us?" Ian's sharp voice drew Shayne back to the conversation at hand, something about the future of Smosh or whatever.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, just lost in thought. Sorry," Shayne said, eyeing Courtney. Her shorts-topped thighs beckoned to him, shoulders starving to be wrapped. His protective nature - the common denominator uniting him and Alternate Shayne - hummed, leftover remnants adding to his burden. Itching him to touch, to comfort, to console.

Her brittle simper failed to reassure him. Fingers plucking at the seat exacerbated his apprehension.

Hey Coward, you just gonna sit there and watch her panic like that?

Does it look like I have a choice?

Alternate Shayne pulsed.

I don't like it either, okay?

"Well, now that you've decided to grace us with your presence, let's continue, shall we?" Ian leveled his lips in a suppressed smile. "So, we have some interest, a few leads overseas, but nothing solid enough to drop names, unfortunately." Ian shoveled a large forkful of burrito into his mouth.

"You're eating your burrito with a fork, really?" Shayne quirked an eyebrow. Fingertips denting tortilla, flavor burst into his mouth as he chomped down on his over-stuffed burrito. Crumbs of beef, salsa, and beans toppled onto his plate, speckled-debris contaminating his stubble. Shayne dabbed it away with his napkin, discarding his half-finished meal for the meantime.