Page 34 of Never Been Shipped

He glanced at her bare feet before he bent down to place his empty plate on the floor next to his chair. She felt a surge oftriumph when she saw him lean over to untie his own shoes, slipping them off, and then his socks after that. So he was staying a while.

“Is it hard for you?” he asked. “The fame part.”

Micah considered the question. “Not nearly as bad as it used to be,” she said. “I mean, I get recognized if I’m out and about. But it’s L.A.—there are celebrities everywhere, and I’m hardly the biggest one.”

“True,” John said. “I saw Tony Hawk on Sunset once.”

She raised her eyebrow at him. “That’s your biggest celebrity sighting?”

He shrugged. “What can I say, it was cool.”

The moon was bright enough that it reflected on the dark waves, the only way you might be able to see that there was a whole expanse of ocean out there. But you could hear it, when you were quiet—the gentle lapping of the water against the ship.

“I don’t know why I said that,” she said finally. “If anything, the fame stuff is worse. I don’t get recognized as much but when I do, it makes me feel…”

She expected him to finish her sentence for her, wanted to hear what word he’d supply so he could tell her how she felt. But he just sat there silently, waiting patiently for her to go on.

“Like that person out on the stage tonight? That’s not me. Not the real me. That’s a persona I play, a projection. It’s like a costume I can put on. I’m Batman in my mask and my cape, I’ve got all my gadgets, I can fight any bad guy I’m faced with. But catch me without that stuff, and I’m just…I’m a joke. An impostor. Not only am I not wearing my mask and cape, but worse than that, they feel sostupidto me. A cheap Halloween versionof the real thing. But I can see in people’s eyes how badly theywantit to be real, and I just don’t know how to be that, I don’t know how to be what people want me to be.”

Micah could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but she couldn’t look at him. She brought her hand up to her mouth, gnawing on the nail of her middle finger, then studying it like it was important that she monitor the progress she’d made.

“I think the thing about Bruce Wayne is that he wasalsokind of a badass,” John said. “In a super-rich-dude sort of way. So that might not be the best example.”

She did glance at him then, and he gave her a tentative smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I thought you weren’t a Batman guy.”

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t seen the movies.”

She laughed. “Okay, yeah.”

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and she thought maybe they were going to drop the topic. She was relieved, in a way—she’d already said more than she meant to. But then she heard his voice, so low she almost had to strain to hear it over the sound of the water.

“Trying to be what other people want will fuck you up every time,” he said. “And you had a lot of pressure on you from a pretty young age in that regard. But, Micah—that person onstageisyou. It’s another part of you. It’s honestly a gift, that you share it with other people. And then the part of you that’s three days unshowered, standing in the snack aisle at Whole Foods, tired and irritated but trying to connect with a fan because you can see how important it is to them…that’s a gift, too. You have to trust people to see that. And if they don’t, well. Fuck ’em.”

Micah could feel the burn at the corner of her eyes, but shewould do anything not to cry. It was just that it was such a release, hearing words of kindness, hearing them fromJohn, who she knew she didn’t deserve them from. It was like wrapping your hands around a warm cup of tea after you’d been out in the cold.

“Were you having me followed?” she said, trying to make her voice light. “That Whole Foods imagery wasveryspecific.”

“As soon as I said it I was like, ah, fuck, should’ve gone with Trader Joe’s.”

There was something erotic about seeing John’s bare feet. They were long and straight and when he moved she could see the bump of his ankle bone peek out from the bottom of his jeans.

She shifted in her chair.Christ.She was acting like it was the Victorian era and a glimpse of a well-turned ankle could give her the vapors.

“You getting cold?” John asked. His gaze swept over her legs in a way that broke her out in full-on goose bumps, even though she knew he was probably just clocking the fact that she was underdressed for being outside on the balcony. The truth was when she stopped to think about it that shewasgetting a little cold. But she was also loath to break this up, worried that if they went back inside he’d wish her a good night and head back to his room.

“Not yet,” she said. “Let’s just stay out here for a few more minutes. It feels good to get some fresh air.”

Chapter

Seventeen

It could standto be a little colder, in John’s opinion. He was way too aware of the expanse of smooth skin of Micah’s legs, that grayscale rose tattoo on her thigh so close he could reach out and squeeze it. The T-shirt she wore covered her as well as any dress, but she didn’t seem to appreciate howlooseit was, how it rode up when she slid down in her chair to reveal a sliver of ass cheek peeking out from her boy shorts, how when she’d bent over to grab some silverware he’d gotten a glimpse right down her top.

It hurt him to hear that she felt that way about herself—that she saw herself as some sort of fake superhero. But considering he also had very complicated feelings whenever anyone brought up the band, or his past career, he couldn’t say he didn’t get it.

“I was embarrassed,” he said, “the first time I took the stage post-ElectricOh!. I was temporarily filling in for a local band’s guitarist who’d moved out of state. I saw the ad on a music store bulletin board and contacted them to arrange a tryout and everything. And I didn’t want to be a dick about it, likeDo youknow who I am?, but it also felt…humbling. Just showing up at some random guy’s house and being like,Hey, I play guitar, I’ll be in your band for a few months until you find someone else.”

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