Page 36 of And Now, Back to You

Delilah waits until the last possible second to slip into the booth, dropping herself into the chair next to me without meeting my eye. I stare at her, watching the way she twists her fingers around the cord of her headphones.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She didn’t look okay in the hallway. She looked sad. Like whatever light source shines out from the middle of her was set to dim. She took a phone call, then wilted like a flower.

She forces herself to smile, looking at the desk in front of me instead of anywhere close to my face. “Why do you have three pages of handwritten notes?”

I cover them with my palm. “Delilah,” I say, ignoring the question. “Are you okay?”

Her sigh is small. Quiet. A fraction of her usual energy, dulled down into too-small pieces. “I’m fine. Though now I’m concerned I don’t have three pages of handwritten notes.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

She rolls her eyes up to the ceiling, tugging her headphones over her ears. Some of her hair tangles around the band. “Thanks for that,” she says, but there’s no bite to it. Not like there was a week ago.

“No, I mean—” I reach forward and gently straighten the hair that’s stuck, smoothing it back behind her headphones. I have to shift closer to do it, my chair bumping against hers. “It’s okay if you’re not fine. I can wait.”

Her eyes snap to mine, curious.

“I mean,” I correct myself again, cheeks heating, “the show can wait. We don’t have to start until you’re ready.”

I don’t let go of the hair that’s twisted around my finger. I rub my thumb over it, unconscious. It’s so soft, and she smells like cherries. I angle my body in front of hers so she has some privacy if she needs it, my shoulders blocking her out from the people who are still moving around the room.

“I’m fine,” she says again, softer this time, her eyes dancing back and forth between mine. “Thank you, Jackson. I’m okay.”

“Okay.” I let go of her hair and drop my hands to my lap beneath the desk. I curl them into fists.

A throat clears on the other end of the table. Aiden is staring at me, his eyes narrowed in thought. “You ready?” he asks.

I turn toward Delilah. “Are you?” I ask.

She nods. This booth was barely made for one person, let alone three. We’re so close I can count every freckle across the bridge of her nose.

It only takes three minutes into the broadcast to realize this might be my own personal hellscape. Delilah wiggles every ten seconds, and with the way we’re smashed together, I can’t get away. Our bodies are pressed together knee to thigh. Maybe my anxiety is manifesting with hyperfixation, because every time she even thinks about moving, I swear to god it shaves five years off my life.

Delilah tries to shift but it only ends up pressing more of her against more of me. In a fit of desperation, I reach under the desk and grab her thigh, fingers tightening in a silent plea to stop wiggling. She sucks in a sharp breath and I abruptly move my hand away.

No more touching.

“Welcome to Heartstrings, Baltimore. I’m your host, Aiden Valentine, and we have two guests in the booth with us tonight. You know them both, but you’re about to know them better. Say hello, Jackson and Delilah.”

Delilah wiggles in her seat, excited. I clench my jaw so tight I fear something might snap.

“Hello, Baltimore.” Her full mouth quirks and her eyes find mine. “Hello, Jackson.”

I lean forward so fast I slam my face into the microphone. Static explodes in our headphones. “Hello,” I say around a wince.

One word and I’m already sweating, a tingling sensation in the back of my throat and in the palms of my hands. I stare hard at my notes and try to collect myself, but the urge to start spewing random facts about the weather is strong.

At least I haven’t blacked out yet, I guess.

I kind of wish I would. Because being hyperaware of how dramatically I’m spiraling isn’t exactly a good time.

“I hear there’s a storm headed our way,” Aiden says. The words piece together slowly, swimming like soup through my brain.

Storm. Headed. Our way.

I’m three seconds behind this broadcast, on a time delay while I watch Aiden and Delilah interact from behind a thick piece of glass.