By the end of the song, my heart was fluttering around in my chest in this hectic pitter patter, and I felt hot all over.

When I handed Kiki back the mic, my hand was shaking.

Quickly, I wiped my palm on my dress. I took a deep breath.

And I turned around and walked right past my table—oh god, my friends were going to give me so much shit—and headed straight back there to that sad little corner, and the stranger who had just made me feel sexy as hell. Because it was Saturday night. And it was Moonie’s. It didn’t matter if I made a fool of myself. It was safe.

I watched their eyes grow wide as I plunked myself down in the seat across from them. They looked slightly petrified, which was real stinking cute. And helped me feel a little more normal. Because some of the heat that had flared in me while I was singing cooled when I realized I was back to wanting to pinch their cheeks. Which was probably good.

“Hey,” I said. “Do you mind if I sit out that embarrassing post-singing high here with you for a second? You know, when you have to go back to your table after a song and suddenly don’t want anyone to look at you ever again so you have to pretend to act chill even though you’re not?”

Their mouth only gaped for a second. And then they blinked and appeared to get control of themselves.

“Oh my god,” they said. “You should never feel embarrassed. You are amazing.”

I bit my lip to keep myself from smiling too hard. Why had I never talked to this person before? I should have them on speed dial for whenever I needed a boost, back in the non-Moonie’s real world.

Because the truth of the matter was, I wasn’t a star. Or amazing. At least not in that breathless way they had said it. I was as shy as Adorable Blusher here appeared, most of the time. Or maybe shy wasn’t the right word. When I applied it to myself, shy made me feel like a little kid. I was introverted. Quiet. Which was fine; that was who I was and how I was comfortable.

It was only when a KJ handed me a mic, and all I felt was the warmth of the lights and the dark comfort of this bar, which only ever seemed to be full of queers and freaks—my people—that I got to be...something different.

“Thank you.” I cleared my throat, wishing now that I had stopped at my table to get my drink. I always needed a few good, strong swigs after Carrie. “Where are your friends tonight?”

“All bailed,” they said on a sigh, seeming to relax a little. “Which would have been nice to know before I left the house, but, oh well.”