Page 102 of Specters & Spotlights

Elise covered her face with both her hands. Beside her, Graham’s eyes went wide as realization hit like a freight train.

He groaned. Audibly. Pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh no,” he muttered. “No no no no no⁠—”

But he was laughing. Which only made it worse. Or better. Hard to say. Elise peeked between her fingers just in time to see him turn beet red and grin like a man being marched to the gallows by a very enthusiastic crab.

By now, the entire room had caught on.

Every head had turned, drinks were momentarily abandoned, and there was a collective breath-hold in the air—equal parts curiosity, delight, and please-let-this-happen anticipation.

Nick, of course, was unbothered by the attention. He was, in fact, thriving. Delivering a vocal performance that would’ve had Sebastian himself flinging off his shell and applauding.

Elise caught movement near the door—Avery and Morgan were slipping out. A beat later, they reappeared, now accompanied by Devon, Lex, Ed, and several more curious onlookers. The hallway buzzed with whispers and delighted laughter. Clearly, word was spreading.

And then—Marco.

With the precision timing of a comedic genius, he jumped in on the “lagoon creature” exclamations with such gusto that half the room flinched from surprise. The other half? Lost it. Fully.

But Nick didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. He belted the “Sha-la-la-las” with unwavering commitment. That line might as well have been etched in prophecy.

Elise turned to Graham.

His face was a stunning shade of crimson, but he was laughing—truly laughing—his whole chest in it, eyes crinkled, tears welling from the force of it all. When he finally looked at her, his laughter slowed, and his expression softened.

Their eyes met, and in the space of a heartbeat, something quiet and intimate passed between them. He leaned in as Nick launched into the bridge—half the room physically leaned forward with him, as if they might kiss her if he didn’t.

His voice was low, sincere: “Do you… Is it okay if I⁠—”

Elise didn’t let him finish.

She closed the space. Kissed him, warm and sure, leaving no room for doubt.

The room exploded.

Cheers, applause, a dramatic gasp or two—Nick dropped to his knees in triumph. Marco launched into an encore verse for no reason whatsoever. Someone threw a jello shot in the air like it was confetti.

Elise felt the warmth of Graham’s lips—gentle, deliberate, electric. There was a softness in the way he kissed her, like he was still making sure she had time to change her mind. But she didn’t want to. Not for a second.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss that swept them away—not here, not now, not with an entire cast of vocalists watching from ten feet away—but it was a promise. A moment suspended in time that said: this is the beginning of something.

Eventually, they both started grinning, because how could they not?

Graham pulled back first, just barely, his smile sheepish and eyes wide, like Well… that escalated. Elise gave the tiniest nod in return. Yes. It did. And I’m not mad about it.

Just in time, Nick took his theatrical bow with a flourish that would make the Phantom himself weep, accepting a standing ovation with zero humility. Then he turned on his heel and sauntered over, cocky and beaming. “Honestly? I should charge for this. Do you feel emotionally manipulated, but in a good way? Because that’s the vibe I was going for.”

Elise, without missing a beat, leaned in. “Two words, Nicholas. Itching. Powder.”

Nick grinned. “Totally worth it.”

Then, as if on cue, he gestured grandly to their empty glasses. “Alright, Romeo and Juliet, drinks are dry and we are celebrating—move it.”

Bless him.

It was exactly the out Elise needed to shake off the sudden floodlight-level attention. With a grateful smile, she stood and joined the conga line of cast and crew spilling back into the hallway toward the glowing, pulsing safety of the bar.

With fresh drinks in hand and a jello shot already dissolving pleasantly on her tongue, Elise let herself be tugged into the second karaoke room by a very enthusiastic Romy. Inside, the energy was electric. Sienna was absolutely murdering “Wrecking Ball,” and Elise hadn’t laughed that hard in ages. She felt like herself. No ghosts, no wards, no creeping dread. Just lights, friends, and Graham’s arm casually slung around her waist like it had always belonged there.

She leaned into him, riding the high of the night like a wave.