Chapter Eight #2
“Because I don’t have a social media account or any kind of following.” I shrugged.
Skepticism was written all over his face. “But you are here at the con and working on the video. It’ll be weird if it’s only me.”
“It’ll be even weirder if I suddenly appear out of nowhere.” I furrowed my brow at Ethan.
“But you’re not out of nowhere. You’re the creative behind one of the most popular influencers over sixty.”
“People will know it’s me behind the camera if they read the credits. I don’t need to be a director who makes cameos.”
“Why not? The most famous directors in the world do that.” Ethan narrowed his eyes at me. “Plus, I’m not an actor or a tour guide. I explain car trouble on the internet.”
He did have a point about the director-cameo thing.
But I wasn’t going to give up years of anonymity and the ability to avoid an additional metric ton of parental scrutiny, not to mention the option to bury imperfect work, that easily.
If my face was in it, there was no taking it back.
The internet is forever. I’d be defined by this video.
If we lost, it’d be a humiliating mark on my digital résumé and further proof to my parents that I should be an accountant or something.
If we won, then I’d include my name in the credits.
I shook my head. “It won’t be weird, and you won’t have to become an actor overnight. We’ll use cuts and music to make it interesting.” Ethan sucked in a breath as if he wanted to argue some more, and I rushed to add, “It’ll be great, I promise. I’ll even do the editing to prove it to you.”
For a minute, Ethan looked like he might try to disagree with me, then thought the better of it. “Alright. Did you have a first location in mind?”
“I googled unusual attractions, and the Stonereel is super close to this aquarium with a shark tunnel.”
Ethan snorted. “You sure are prepared.”
A goofy grin crossed my face, and I tried to hide it.
These kinds of compliments were dangerous.
This was a boy who snorted because of me.
The sound alone should have been the least appealing thing in the world.
Instead, my brain was really out here thinking it was adorable.
I blamed the tank top. I gave my head another shake and caught sight of Gabby and Nittha headed our way. We needed to wrap this up quickly.
“I try. Speaking of preparation, our grandmothers cannot find out,” I said, putting extra emphasis on the syllable not in cannot, just to make myself clear.
“It can be our secret, for now.” Ethan leaned toward me conspiratorially. I hadn’t noticed his height before. He was a full head taller than me. When we stood like this, I could see his eyes more clearly. In this light, they appeared darker, more like chestnut with flecks of amber than honey brown.
I took a slight step to the side to put some distance between myself and his eyes. “Do you think you could get away from your grandma this afternoon?”
“Yes.” Ethan straightened up again. “When we get back, I could probably tell her I’m having lunch with friends. Would that work for you?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell Mini the same thing.”
“Cool. Meet you outside of the main hall once the TrendCon lunch starts?” Ethan smiled and leaned off the railing as he spotted my friends headed our way.
“We should both try and take establishing shots of the con until then.”
He nodded.
“Hey, friends,” Nittha said, a massive grin working its way across her face as her eyes went back and forth between me and Ethan. “What ya talkin’ ’bout?”
“Nothing much.” Ethan shrugged, half a smile playing with the corners of his mouth as he fibbed. “Just working out our grandma-based differences.”
“Oh.” Nittha sounded as if that was the least interesting thing she’d heard in a week.
Turning toward me, she held a drink out and said, “I know you said you didn’t want anything, but they have a Beginners Luck over there.
So here. Blueberry matcha latte with extra whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, iced. ”
“Thank you,” I said, trying not to smirk. I suspected that she’d picked up my favorite not-coffee so that she and Gabby had a reason to walk over and find out what Ethan and I were talking about.
I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep whiff of sweet, earthy goodness then grinned up at Ethan, who was watching me with complete surprise.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t have you pegged for a ten-dollar-coffee drinker.”
“First, matcha is a tea, and second, it’s eight fifty, and it tastes like gold,” I said, trying not to feel judged by my drink order. “What did you think I’d drink?”
“Black coffee. Isn’t that what all artists drink?”
“Only the ones who are sad on the inside,” Gabby said, waving her lemon-berry iced latte at him.
Ethan snort-laughed. “I guess I’ll be sad on the inside and rich on the outside, then.”
“You don’t even have plain coffee, so really you’re neither right now,” Nittha said, pointing her usual technically-coffee raspberry whipped-oat-milk decaf mocha at him.
Ethan opened his mouth to say something, when an exhausted-looking person with a clipboard, wearing a purple Kart World shirt whose better days had been sometime in 2017, cupped a hand over their mouth. “TrendCon group, we are ready for you. If you can step this way and grab your wristbands.”
The four of us turned and joined the crowd of teens shuffling toward the wristband line as the employee began listing the rules in a way that sounded like their battery was low.
“You’ll be racing in teams of four. Fastest team wins bragging rights and free food from our snack bar.
” The employee glanced up for a fraction of a second.
“Helmets and seat belts must be worn while driving. And remember, if you post on social media, use the hashtags”—the employee looked down at the clipboard—“TrendConLV and KartWorld…also with an LV. Okay, go pick your teams, and we’ll get started soon. ”
“Cool. So…” Ethan drew the word so out. “Can I be on your team? I’m a great driver.”
“I don’t drive, but you all should be on a team together.
” Nittha smiled up at me and batted her eyelashes as if she was creating some kind of romantic moment for us instead of dooming me to a high-pressure driving situation with a boy who loved cars and had only recently agreed to work with me. Not that Nittha knew that part.
“I actually wasn’t planning on—” I started, when Gabby cut me off.
“Excellent. You’re both on the team.” Gabby’s face went stone-cold serious as she did some calculation. “We just need—”
“Sorry, babes. I’m on Ethan’s team.” Sterling appeared next to Ethan’s shoulder as if by magic.
He was waving at a group of three people with bad haircuts and shoulders wide enough to make it clear they were fitness influencers.
Turning to Ethan, he let his smile fall as he said, “You know I like to win, and they are clearly not equipped to do that. So, who else should be on our team?”
“I’m already on Jamie’s team.” Ethan shrugged and gestured to me. Sterling looked over, noticing me for possibly the first time ever and sizing me up like he was reconsidering leaving the gym rats.
“Is it my team, though?” I laughed, hoping to ease some of the tension.
Sure, I’d been wanting to talk to Sterling.
But not like this. I wasn’t a great driver like Ethan.
The whole moving-vehicle thing still stressed me out.
I’d only gotten my license last year because my parents made me so I could get to SAT classes and my piano lessons over the summer.
My mom had sworn that I’d be grateful later, but I was still waiting for that moment to arrive.
As it stood, I wished right now I were Nittha, who’d wandered off with my camera to film god knew what.
The last thing I wanted was to be responsible for anything if Sterling didn’t win.
BamBam didn’t need me making enemies of younger beauty influencers she might want to connect with.
And she certainly didn’t need to make an enemy of Sterling James over go-karts.
“And I’m also on Jamie’s team,” Gabby said, crossing her arms and sizing him up like she would be ready to try out some judo if he said anything about us. While I appreciated the protective instinct, her help was the opposite of helpful right now.
Taking in Ethan’s and Gabby’s stances, Sterling smiled and turned to me, extending a hand, “Well okay, then. Team Captain Jamie, I don’t think we’ve met before. What do you do?”
“You wouldn’t have heard of me.” I smiled and shook his hand even as my nerves started to fray under the weight of his perfectly lined gaze. “I’m the producer for Ms. Mini’s Makeup—”
“Oh my god, I love her. Ms. Mini is who I want to be when I grow up. Icon.” Sterling grinned, then glanced over at Ethan. Toning his smile down a notch, he added, “Not that your grandma isn’t great, too.” Returning his attention to me, he said, “After we win, Jamie, you and I should talk.”
Ethan shrugged. “You and Mini have matching energy. It makes sense.”
“He gets me.” Sterling smiled over at Ethan, then grew serious again. “What’s the plan here?”