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The spirit box was particularly grating on Shane’s nerves that night.
Static “Join”...static…”competition”....”dance”
“You want us to join you in a dance competition? OK, we can do that.” Ryan started a bastardized version of the Carlton.
“Oh yeah, we’ll show this ghost how it’s done,” Shane said going down into a twist. Welcoming anything to combat the boredom.
“Dance”....”Line”
“Dance line? Line dancing? I don’t know any line dancing moves. I mean really, I don’t know any dance moves,” Ryan said moving into the running man, not noticing Shane freezing.
“I think we showed this ghost who the superior dancers are. Let’s move on to the ticket booth," Shane said, walking out of the room. Leaving Ryan to scramble after him.
~~
Steven sighed in pleasure as he stretched, standing from his chair on the podcast set. “So, do you boys have any plans tonight?”
Ryan tossed his mic onto the table, and slumped in his chair, exhaustion evident in his every move. “I’m going to have a gummy and take a benadryl, and try to sleep through the night. My insomnia has been hitting hard these past couple nights, and I seriously need some sleep.”
“Please be careful. I don’t need your mom calling to tell us you OD’ed on sedatives.”
Ryan just waved him off, “I’ll be fine. I’m not going to take that much, but the combo usually does enough to knock me out. If I don’t get a good night’s sleep soon, I’m not going to be able to function. I Uber-ed in to work today because I didn’t trust myself to drive safely.”
“Still, be careful," Steven implored, worried for his friend. "How about you, Shane?”
“Hum?” Shane hummed, suspiciously not looking at either of the other men.
“Do you have any plans tonight?” Steven repeated.
“Me? Plans? No, no I don’t think so. Maybe some reading. You?”
“Just going out to dinner with the wife.”
“Good, good. See you boys tomorrow.” Shane said rushing out of the room.
Steven looked at Ryan and raised an eyebrow. “That was weird.”
Ryan looked up from his phone, “What? Sorry I was ordering an Uber. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Steven just shook his head. “Nevermind. Get home safe and get some sleep.”
Ryan just nodded and sleepily shuffled out of the room.
~~
By the time Friday rolled around, Ryan was actually feeling like a normal human again. “Hey,” he said, rolling his chair next to Shane’s. “Can you pick up some beer tonight? I think I only have like two left.”
Shane winced and ducked his head. “Yeah, about tonight -”
“What about tonight? It’s Fajita Friday.” Ryan said matter of factly. Fajita Friday was sacred.
“I know, but I have a thing I couldn’t get out of.”
“But - it’s Fajita Friday. We don’t make plans on Fajita Friday.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t plan it, but I have to go.”
“What’s more important than Fajita Friday?”
“It’s just this thing I committed to a while back,” Shane said, refusing to meet Ryan’s eyes. “I swear, next week we can go extra hard on the fajitas. I promise”
“Fine,” Ryan said, slumping back in his chair. “I don’t like it, but fine.”
~~
The next week passed with tension constantly in the air. Shane would never admit to doing anything after work, but he was always in a rush to leave on time. Ryan was about at the end of his rope with it, unable to stand the tense atmosphere, but he figured that he’d be able to dig it out of Shane during Fajita Friday. Even if he had to break out the good Tequila.
By Friday the only thing keeping Ryan going was a mantra of Fajita Friday, Tequila shots, talk.
It was in the middle of one of the many repetitions of his mantra - Fajita Friday, Tequila shots, talk. Fajita Friday, Tequila shots, talk - that he noticed Shane approaching his desk, looking shifty as hell. He glanced around and was relieved that only Steven was in the room. If what he thought was about to happen actually happened, he did not want any of their employees there for the meltdown.
Shane cleared his throat as he fidgeted with some post-it notes on Ryan’s desk, refusing to meet his eyes. Not a good start. “So you know about tonight?”
“No.” Ryan responded flatly, struggling to hold the mix of crushing disappointment, annoyance, and worry from showing in his voice.
“I know I said last week that I’d definitely be there this week, but something came up - “
“You promised.”
Shane winced. “I know. But -” his voice trailed off, not really sure where to go from there. He did promise, and he’d been trying to come up with a reason all week that wouldn’t give away what he was going to be doing. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
“What the fuck man?” Ryan stood, unable to have this conversation with Shane looming over him. “Are you ok? Are you sick? In trouble?”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that.”
“Then what is it?! What’s so bad that you can’t tell me, and is worth putting the company at risk? Because I gotta tell you, I can’t do another week like this last one. It was hell, and everything we recorded was barely usable.”
“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.”
“It wasn’t that bad? Were you even here this week? You’ve barely looked at me all week, Matt got so frustrated about the lack of engagement during the podcast that he started aiming all of his questions at Steven, and every time we’re alone in a room together you leave! In what world is that not bad?”
“I’m sorry!” Shane almost shouted.
“I don’t want an apology, I want an explanation!”
“I didn’t think we’d make it past the semi-finals!”
Ryan froze, stunned, and more than a little confused. “What?”
“I didn’t think we’d make it past the semi-finals.” Shane repeated, defeat clouding his voice. “I joined a line-dancing group a while back, and they wanted to enter a competition that was last Saturday. We normally only meet on Wednesday nights, but with the competition, everyone wanted to get more practice in. I couldn’t exactly say no.”
“Ooookay. We can come back to the fact that you were hiding that you’re in a line-dancing group later. That explains last Friday, what about tonight?”
Shane sighed and dropped into his chair, seeing Steven trying to sneak out of the room from the corner of his eye. “Last weekend was the semi-finals. This weekend is the finals. My group made it into the finals.”
“Dude, that’s awesome!” Ryan said, sitting back down, rolling his chair close to Shane’s. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me that? If I knew that’s why you were skipping out on Fajita Friday, it’d be a whole different story! Why hide?”
“Because it’s embarrassing!” Shane’s exclamation was muffled, with his face buried in his hands. “Could I be any more white? I had to unironically buy a pair of cowboy boots, and learned choreography from a guy named Ricky Two-Steps.”
Ryan blinked, then snorted. “Shane, you are from the mid-west. That is literally home of the white people. Learning to line-dance doesn’t even crack the top-10 whitest things about you.”
“You don’t understand,” Shane said, peeking through his fingers. “There are hats involved. Matching hats. And So. Much. Flannel.”
Ryan burst out laughing. “Why would you ever hide this from me? This is the best thing I’ve heard all month. Possibly all year.”
Shane finally dropped his hands, scowling. “Because you’d do exactly what you’re doing now.”
Ryan smiled, eyes soft. “Okay, yeah, I’m laughing. But seriously, you have to know that I support you no matter what.” Ryan scooted their chairs closer - knees touching. “Seriously, I’m proud of you. A bit embarrassed, but so damn proud.”
He hooked a hand behind Shane’s head, and drew him into a lingering kiss.
“Now,” he said when he pulled back. “Do I need to buy tickets to these finals, or -”
“No.”
“No I don’t have to buy tickets?”
“No, you’re not going.”
“Try again. If you’re missing two Fajita Fridays, I’m going to see the damn results.”
Shane just sighed.
~~
Saturday afternoon came far too quickly.
“Uh, Shane?” A man wearing a cowboy hat, flannel button up with bolo tie, and cowboy boots called.
Shane looked up from adjusting his matching bolo tie, giving their group leader, Ricky, his attention.
“I think you have a few fans.”
Shane’s eyes drifted to the seats, and he groaned. There was Ryan with a sign. And Steven. And Matt. And it looked like five other people from their office standing beside him.
“Is that glitter?” Ricky grinned. “Who are those people?”
“That would be my boyfriend. And our entire office.”
“I thought you were single?”
“I was.” He groaned when Ryan caught his eyes and waved his purple and gold sparkling sign around, like he was at a Lakers game. “I might be again, after this.”
Ricky just grinned and clapped Shane on the shoulder. “Come on, let's put on a show for your boyfriend.”
They did, coming in second place.
Ryan wouldn’t stop singing "We are the Campions” all night. He also couldn’t seem to keep his hands out of the back pockets of Shane’s tight Levi’s.
Shane couldn’t be happier.