#winnposting

“Thanks, but I’m good here- I’m much more comfortable with a wall behind me.” 

She nodded, understanding. I expected her to go back to the other table, but instead, she waved everyone else over. They all smiled, grabbed their drinks, and headed over without a moment’s hesitation. I told myself I was just imagining Winn subtly elbowing Alex out of the way to take the seat next to me.

I smiled and rolled my eyes. “Y’all, you really didn’t need to do this. I swear, I was having a perfectly good time as it was.”

“Yeah, well, too bad,” Winn said. “No one gets left out on karaoke night, even if they want to be.” He smiled, too, and took a drink of his beer. I tried my best not to think about the phallic nature of a beer bottle.

Kara stood up. “And absolutely no one gets to get away without singing. Come on, I already put in a song for you.”

My jaw dropped. “No, hang on, wait, no. I don’t sing.”

James, sitting on the other side of me, put one hand on my shoulder. “Everyone has to. Best to get it over with- she’s not gonna let this go.” 

I thought for a second, weighing my options, then sighed. “Fine. What method of my utter humiliation did you pick?”

“You’ll see, just come on.” I stood up and let her lead me to the stage. I took the mic, and she headed back to the table.

The screen changed, and my heart stopped when I saw what song it was. How ‘Bout A Dance from Bonnie & Clyde. “How did you know I even know this song? Kara, I can’t do this.” Instead of responding to my desperate plea across the room, she gave me a thumbs-up. The music started, and I realized I wouldn’t be able to look at that area of the bar again for the rest of the song I’d listened to dozens of times, thinking about Winn.

In for a penny, in for a pound. There’s no half-assing this one. Fuck.

Thankfully, the song started off quiet, so I could focus on breathing and trying to forget where I was. As difficult as a song it was to sing well, it is one I knew like the back of my hand, so it could have been worse. As long as I avoided looking at him, I could get through it. 

For most of the song, I did. But shortly before the end of it, I couldn’t stop myself, and nothing in the world could have prepared me for what I saw. Normally, his inability to sit still also applied to where he was looking, but he was perfectly still, focused on me with an intensity I’d never seen from him before. It froze me, too, and I found myself singing the rest of the song directly to him. 

The last notes faded out, and whatever spell had fallen was broken. I turned to put the mic down, and when I turned back, Winn was gone. My heart sank and cracked. Fighting the panic attack that was starting to bubble in my chest, I walked back to the table.

I hadn’t even noticed that all of them were cheering and clapping until Alex spoke. “Simon, that was awesome! ‘I can’t sing’ my ass.”

I forced a laugh. “Thanks, but technically I said I don’t sing, not that I can’t.” I turned to Kara. “Thanks for inviting me, and including me and all that, but I really have to go. Sorry.” I ducked my head down and rushed out the door, not letting her respond. 

Maybe it’s a good thing he left. It’ll be easier to pretend that didn’t happen if I don’t see him for a while, at least until I can get a grip. I got to my car, and as I fumbled to unlock it, I heard someone walk up behind me. 

“Kara, I know you mean well, but I’m holding out against a panic attack by the slimmest of margins right now. I have to get home. I’ll call you later.”

“I’m, uh, I’m not Kara.” You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. “Are you okay? Sorry, bad question. Can I help? Do you need a ride home?” The gentleness and care in Winn’s voice almost brought me to tears. Everything in me screamed to turn around, to look at him, but I couldn’t do it.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t live far from here, and I’ve got tools to help me get there safely. Thanks, though.” I got the car unlocked, but before I could open the door, his hand was on mine, stopping me. It was almost painful, how close behind me he was.

“If this is because I left, let me explain. I can’t let you leave like this if it’s my fault,” he whispered. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck; it took everything I had not to lean back into him.

I took a shaky breath. “I have an anxiety disorder. It’s not your fault. Please, Winn, I’ve embarrassed myself enough today. Pretend you never saw this, let me hold on to some shred of my dignity.” He moved his hand and took a few steps back.

“Embarrassed yourself? Is that why you think I left?” There was something different in his voice, but I couldn’t quite place it without the context of body language.

“If not that, why?”

“Can you look at me? You don’t have to, of course, but I’d rather say this to your face if possible.” I turned around, braced for the all too common look of pity that always came when people learned about my anxiety, but instead I was met with real understanding and compassion. He understands. I couldn’t help it; I started crying.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” He closed the gap between us again, putting his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry, that can wait. Let’s get you home, okay?” 

Too overwhelmed to think, I collapsed into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and fully sobbing into his shoulder. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled me in closer with one arm around my back at the shoulders and his other hand on the back of my head. It was the best hug I’d ever had. Then he started swaying gently from side to side and softly humming, and I’d never felt safer in my entire life. 

Before long, I stopped crying, and I noticed what he was humming- How ‘Bout A Dance. I chuckled, and he stopped moving and relaxed the hug just enough for me to be able to back up and look at him, neither of us letting go.

“Feeling better?” he asked, and I took a deep breath.

“Thanks to you, yeah. I’m sorry about breaking down like that.”

To my surprise, he smiled. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just glad I could help.”

I felt myself smile back. “I meant it, you know. It really wasn’t your fault.”

“It kinda is, though,” he said, crinkling his nose adorably.

I shook my head. “Nope. Something I learned very early on in dealing with an anxiety disorder- it’s not anyone’s fault. Assigning fault or blame just adds more layers of shame and guilt, and it makes it so much worse. If you still want to tell me why, I’d love to hear it, but only if you want to for you, not because of me.”

He nodded, taking that in. “That makes sense. And yeah, I really do want to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “I left because if I hadn’t, I would have done something stupid like run up there and kiss you in front of everyone.”

I was quiet for a few seconds, pretending to think while I rebooted my brain. “Well, maybe that wouldn’t have been an ideal first kiss, but it certainly would have made for a good story.”

His eyebrows shot up and he started laughing. “You were having a full breakdown, like, a minute ago, and now you’re making jokes?”

“I contain multitudes, babe,” I said with a shrug. “Get used to it.” I leaned and kissed him, soft and quick. When I pulled back, I couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh my god, you’re blushing SO much. You’re so fucking cute.” That made him blush more, and he looked away and tried to get out of the hug. I didn’t let him.

“I- I am not blushing! And I’m not cute!”

“You are objectively both of those things.” 

Seeing a logical out, he all but shouted, “Ah, see, there’s your problem! Cuteness is inherently subjective! Objective cuteness doesn’t exist.”

I clicked my tongue. “In most cases, you’re right. However, in the years I’ve known and had feelings for you, I have discovered a quantitative scale of how cute you are. That scale may exist at different levels of appeal for different people, but right now, you are at the upper extreme of it.”

“Y- years?” He asked, his voice suddenly very soft.

Fuck. I looked away, embarrassed. “I- yeah. Pretty much since my first day at CatCo. I’m sorry, that probably came across as super creepy, didn’t it? I’m so sor-” my apology was cut off when he leaned forward and kissed me, deep and slow. 

I don’t know how long we stayed like that, making out in the middle of the parking lot, but eventually he pulled back. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

I pulled him into a tight hug. “Honestly, I tried. But you’re too incredible to let go of. Thank you for seeing me. And thank you for your help earlier, with the anxiety.” I took a step back, breaking the embrace. “And I guess we should thank Kara for the set-up, despite how close it came to disaster?”

“Yeah, I guess we should,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair. “She’s gonna be so smug.”

“Oh god, yeah. Should we go in and face her and everyone else now?” 

He thought for a second. “We could, or we could just take off? Go somewhere else, avoid all of their comments and opinions as long as we can?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. I was hoping you’d say that.” I put one hand on his cheek and smiled. “Maybe we go back to my place? We could watch a movie, or talk,” I looked down at his lips and stepped towards him, “or not talk.”

Maybe I moved first, maybe he did, maybe we moved at the same time, but a heartbeat later we were kissing again, this time needy, almost desperate. Without even thinking, I put one hand into his hair and pulled lightly; the sound he made was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

As quick as it started, we stopped. “Yeah, your place sounds great,” he said, completely breathless.

“Fantastic. Let’s go.” My voice wasn’t any steadier, but they were barely out before he literally ran to the other side of my car. “Like I said, so goddamn cute.”