4. Cherry On Top
Chapter 4
Cherry On Top
Dev
I’m not sure why I sought out the bubbly girl who claimed me as her con buddy in line. Normally, I’m more than happy to attend these rare events by myself. Between school, hockey, and jobs, I don’t often get the opportunity, so I’m thrilled to be here. After we split up to join the alphabetical registration lines, I was planning on grabbing my lanyard and losing myself in the horde. It wouldn’t be too hard with the mass of people who have already spilled into the sprawling conference center. And when I got through, I didn’t spot her bright red Black Widow wig. Disappearing in this crowd would be easy. I’d be just another nerd, but I didn’t. Instead, I leaned against a big square pillar, waiting until she came bouncing out the doors.
“Castle! You waited.” The smile she gives me spreads across half her round face, and her blue eyes are sparkling when they land on me. Her use of my character’s real name has my lips twitching for the second time since I met her.
“Looks like it, Romanoff.”
Maybe I need to get laid. It’s been a long summer working three jobs. Without the guys around to drag me to bars and social gatherings, it’s been a few months since I enjoyed the company of a woman. That must be it. Those luscious curves encased in all that tight black latex are mesmerizing.
“Where to first?” She joins me at the little oasis by the pillar I found off to the side of the room. She’s rooting through the black leather crossbody bag slung over her chest.
It’s a nice touch. She brought a bag, but it blends in with her costume. My worn backpack might be out of place with the bad ass Punisher look, but I never leave home without it. Force of habit I haven’t been able to shake despite my few years of security at Lakeview.
“It’s got to be in here somewhere.” She’s got a wad of folded up papers in her hand, and she’s still digging in her bag like a crazed squirrel.
Something gold catches the light as it clatters to the floor, and I duck down to pick it up at the same time as her. A musical laugh bubbles out as she looks up at me, and a pang of need punches me in the gut. She’s even more gorgeous up close. Full lips painted into a defined bow, the shadow of a dimple in her chin, and round cheeks.
Her soft hand brushes mine as I pass her the tube of lipstick.
“Thanks.” Her voice has gone a little husky and my eyes zero in on the line of her pale neck as she swallows hard .
“Of course. What are you looking for?” I ask her, straightening up and leaning back to put some distance between us. I refold my arms over my chest. My dick came to life at the sight of those lips, but now is not the time. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to taste them later.
“My schedule. I had the entire day planned out, but I don’t know...” She trails off, holding up the wad of papers in front of me.
“I printed a schedule. Let me grab it.”
Her eyes fall on the faded red backpack, and I hug it to my chest, eyes narrowing.
But the expected judgment never comes. Instead, she goes back to digging through the mess of her own bag. My shoulders relax and I drop a hand on hers to still the constant motion.
“I got this.”
I pull a blue plastic folder out of the backpack, carefully fastening the snap before she can take a peek. It’s got a printed copy of my hostel booking information, my bus tickets, con registration, and the schedule for the weekend. I’ve highlighted the events I want to attend and made some notes on the papers about tables to visit.
Her eyes widen, and she looks down at the mess in her hands sheepishly. “Impressive.”
I shrug, a little embarrassed, but I need things to be organized. There was so much unpredictability in my childhood I can’t help planning things out in detail. Make sure everything is in order, so I don’t end up disappointed, or lost. Missing out on the thing I’ve saved up all year to attend. “Sorry. ”
“What? That’s amazing. I only wish I were as organized as you.”
I duck my head, fixating on the neon colors of the highlighted schedule in front of me. As I run a finger down the events, she leans in close, sneaking a look. A hit of her perfume washes over me. It’s soft and bright, like clean laundry and fresh lemons.
“It’s all coming back to me.” She jabs at the paper. “I had my eye on most of the same panels, and I totally want to check out Heller’s booth, too. I’m so into his Black Tree chronicles. So dark and dirty. I love his style.”
“Really?” It’s hard to keep the surprise out of my voice. His work is super gritty. I’m not sure what I expected from this woman, but it wasn’t that. Figures. I should know better than to judge a person by their looks. Some of the worst people in my life hid behind veneers of generosity and kindness, but when they got you in private, you saw their true selves. Anyway, I should know better.
“Yeah, don’t sound so surprised. A girl can do her makeup and wear pink and still be into dark stuff.”
I check her out again. Seems like my eyes keep getting pulled back to her, trailing down her stunning body. I nod. “If we’re going to hit the Women in Comics panel, we should go. Probably be busy.”
“Yes. You’re right. Let’s go.”
She jumps into action, tugging on my arm as she trots off to weave through the crowds of people milling about in excited groups. It’s hard to keep up with her. My large body doesn’t quite fit through the narrow holes she’s punching through the attendees. I have to apologize more than once when an elbow or hand strays off the path to collide with a stranger.
There’s a lineup at the door to Hall C, but it’s not too bad yet. The panel doesn’t start for half an hour, but it’s in one of the smaller rooms. I’m sure they’ve underestimated the attendance for this one. There’s still not enough female representation in the comic book world.
“I’m so glad I found you. I would have still been rifling through my papers looking for the schedule if you hadn’t saved the day. And then what? I would have missed this panel. The one I’ve been waiting for. Hahn is my very favorite artist of any gender. The fact she’s a woman is just the cherry on top.”
“I’m sure you would have found someone else to befriend. Or maybe grabbed the schedule from your program.” I slip the folded stack of red paper from the swag bag I got when we checked in, waving it at her.
She actually smacks her forehead with her hand. I didn’t think anybody did that outside of movies.
“Duh doi. Obviously, it’s on there. I’m all flustered. Too much excitement. It’s scrambled my brains.”
“Why are you here by yourself?” She seems like the type of person who should be surrounded by a group of friends. Befriending random people is not my thing, but I kind of wish it were a little easier for me. She didn’t think twice before claiming the massive, frowning hockey player as her friend for the weekend. I wonder if she keeps all her new friends or leaves a trail of broken hearts behind .
“You think I can’t show up at a con by myself because I’m a woman?” Her full lips push out in a pout.
“No, I didn’t mean that.” I’m stumbling over my words when I catch the little smile on her face. “Right, you’re messing with me.”
That chirpy little laugh comes out. “Yup. Not that I wouldn’t come on my own if I didn’t have someone to join me, but I had a con buddy. Someone from an artist’s group on-line I’m tight with. She called this morning. Broke her leg and is unfortunately confined to a hospital bed for the weekend. So here I am, solo rider. I feel bad for Tess, but I might not have met you if she came along. So, there’s a lighter side to the darkness. As usual.”
My brows pull together, and I’m yanked back to a time when there was nothing but darkness. Not even the tiniest pinprick of light or hope in the endless night.
A soft weight on my arm pulls me out of my memories. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
I shake my head, trying not to get sucked back into the past. “No. No, sorry about that. I was just thinking about how there isn’t always a bright spot in the darkness. Look at what happened to the Punisher after his family was murdered. He turned into this crazed vigilante. A great storyline, but probably not the best life for him.”
“Ah, you’re getting into character. I love it. But he is fictional. And these deep thoughts are for the philosophy panel. We can hit that one up later and you can get out all that angst.”
Right. This is a fun and carefree weekend, and I’m here to enjoy myself. No use dwelling on the past. “You’re right.”
The enormous doors swing open and the anticipation of everyone around us swells to a crescendo, like the moment before the puck drops. As soon as we get to the front of the line, she grabs my hand darting through everyone on a direct track to front of the room. She miraculously snags us seats in the third row.
After settling into my seat, I turn to meet her blue eyes. “So I was your second choice?”
Confusion clouds her expression when she turns to me. “What?”
“Friend had to bail out, so I’m your second choice.” Her eyes drop to my bare forearms when I cross my arms over my chest before bouncing back to my face. The slight pink tinge to her cheeks lets me know she appreciates the view.
Her mouth falls open, and her eyes widen. “But I...”
I lift an eyebrow and let one side of my mouth turn up the tiniest bit.
Realization dawns on her face that I am, in fact, fucking with her, but the smack she lands on my biceps barely registers.
“I can always make some new friends if you’re going to be that way.”
I shrug, but as she twists around in her seat to check out who else she might be able to hook up with, I get a little concerned. Making new friends this weekend wasn’t on my agenda. It was supposed to be a solo adventure. After all, school starts in only a couple of weeks, and once the guys move back in, I’ll be surrounded twenty-four-seven with chaos and intrusive teammates. Especially since Beau is letting JJ and Grant move in this semester. But I’m finding her company oddly enjoyable.
There’s a very real chance of something more happening between us, and I’m hoping she’ll be the one to break my dry spell. She is one of the hottest women I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the thought of getting a hold on those thick hips while I pound her from behind has popped into my head a few more times than I’d like. The way her eyes have been lingering on my body let me know it isn’t outside the realm of possibility.
Even if it doesn’t happen, the time I’ve spent with her has been enjoyable.
She turns back to me. “The possibilities are endless, but I guess I’ll stick with you for now. You better watch yourself though, Castle.”
Good. Looks like this weekend is going to be even better than I was hoping for.
The whirlwind morning didn’t leave me any time to enjoy a snack or anything, and my stomach lets out an angry growl. The sharp pains of hungry are all too familiar. I try not to let myself get to that point, so I’m swinging my backpack over my shoulder to grab a protein bar when she turns away from the video game artist she was excitedly chattering with.
“Crap. You must be starving. That’s a lot of muscle to maintain. What time is it, anyway?” She’s glancing at her watch as she asks the question. “Two o’clock. I am so sorry. I got all caught up in the excitement. Sometimes I get so involved in things, I forget to eat.” Her eyes are shining as she spins around, taking in the crowded room full of stars of the industry.
“It’s fine. I’ve got snacks. Granola bar?” I pull a pack out of my bag to offer her one, but she shakes her head.
“No, let’s go hunt down some proper food.”
She’s rifling through her bag, but I stop her when she pulls out the disorganized mess of papers.
“I’ve got it.” I grab my folder flipping to the venue map. “Food this way.”
She jumps up and claps her hands. “Perfect. I need something fried. Cheese would be a bonus. I’ve been eating way too healthy this summer.”
She’s off again. From what I've seen, she seems to take a hot minute to make a decision, but when she does, she’s like a heat-seeking missile, determined in her course of action.
The forbidden smells of grease and dough assault my senses when we make it to the noisy hall where the food vendors are set up. Tables are packed into the space. Someone walks by with a juicy burger piled high with toppings that has my head turning to track his progress. While I’d love to grab one of those, my food budget is limited, so I brought a bunch of snacks and protein bars to survive the day. The food is always way too expensive at these things.
She passes by the big chain pizza joint selling droopy slices. “Definitely not pizza. I will be getting myself some authentic Detroit style pizza while we’re here. The only question is what to choose. Nachos or fries? Mozzarella sticks? What are you going to get?” she asks.
“I brought food, I’m good.”
“That’s no fun. Are you on some special diet or something? My brother is so boring during the season. He’s on this strict athlete diet. Nothing interesting. Is that your jam? You look like an athlete.” She’s eyeing me again with the same hungry look she gave a funnel cake someone walked by with.
Her thoughts seem to spill from her mouth so fast I’m having a hard time keeping up, but it’s kind of perfect since I’m not much of a talker. “I am.”
She’s off on another tangent before I can expand on the thought, and I’m relieved. People can get a little weird when you tell them you’re a hockey player with a direct line to the pros after you finish college. They’re either doubtful or a little too interested in hopping on the train to ride along on your success.
“At least you can go find us somewhere to sit while I order some stuff.”
I look at the mass of bodies jammed around the tables in the hall. This will require a bit of strategy. I hover around the edges, scanning the tables. A handful of people cleaning up their plates catches my eye, so I slide in to wait patiently beside them. Not too close or too far away. Another group walks up just as they’re leaving, but when they catch sight of me, they nod and walk away in search of another option. Perfect.
It must have taken longer than I thought to secure the table, because I’m just pulling out my assorted snacks when I spot her. She’s craning her neck at the edge of the crowd, eyes darting from table to table. Something I’m not used to. Being at this kind of event and having someone out there searching for me. I keep a low profile on campus, but I know that will probably change next year when I make it to the next level. Pro athletes have to accept a certain amount of recognition and adulation from fans. The fame is the one thing that makes me uncomfortable about going pro.
I stand up and wave until I catch her attention. She lights up, weaving through the tables until she skids to a halt beside me with an overflowing tray of delicious looking fried things.
“Wow. You went all out.” My mouth waters at the smell, but I glance down at the cookie dough protein bar I brought along, tearing open the wrapper.
“Did you wait for me to start eating? That’s so sweet.”
I nod, trying not to be too noticeable about the fact that I’m tracking a gooey cheese covered nacho to her lips. She pops it in, moaning as she crunches down. The tip of her pink tongue darts out to catch a stray strand of cheese that’s oozing out, and I have to fight the urge to offer my help.
“Amazing.” The tray slides toward me at her push. “Help yourself. There’s no way I’m going to eat this much food.”
“It’s okay. I’m set.” I’m tempted, but don’t want to mooch off her.
“No problem if you don’t want, but if you’re being polite, forget about it. What I don’t eat is getting tossed, so please dig in.”
The thought of good food going in the trash causes me physical pain. I give in, reaching over to snag a steaming fresh cut fry, and dunking it in the little pile of ketchup at the corner of the basket. The grease coats my tongue in a delicious rush of flavor and salt, and I’m quickly going back for seconds.
“Excellent. I’m happy you’re sharing.”
The chatter of the crowd around us fills in the silence as we crunch away at nachos and chomp on mozzarella sticks until she pushes herself away from the table.
“That’s me defeated.” She groans. “So tasty, but this costume is way too tight to eat another bite.”
I’m getting pretty full too, but I can’t let a bite go in the garbage. I just can’t do it, so I power through.
“Do you usually come to cons alone?” she asks as I’m swallowing the last fry.
“Yup.”
“Gotcha.” Her hands fold together, and she leans in. “That’s cool. Sometimes I do too. Or I go with an online friend. My real-life friends from my former school aren’t into nerd culture like me. Are you in school or do you work?”
“College. I’m a senior.”
We gather up our things to let the next group of people claim the space and start moving through the crowd to our next panel as she talks. “That’s what I was hoping. I’m a senior too, but I couldn’t quite judge your age. Not that there’s anything wrong with dating an older man, but I was hoping you weren’t secretly a fifty-year-old who aged really well.”
“Fifty? ”
She shrugs. “You never know. What are you taking in school?”
That’s an easy one. “Business. You?”
“You are such an amazing conversationalist. I see I’m going to have my work cut out for me with you. I’ll be digging for days just to find out if you had any pets when you were a kid.”
Somewhere on the trip through the winding paths of the massive convention space, she picked up my hand, but I pull it away, running it along the top of my close-cropped hair.
“What? I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. Sometimes I don’t feel like sharing either. How about we make a deal? No last names, nothing too personal, and we keep it fun and easy for the weekend. I have to prepare myself for the end of summer. I’m moving to a new school, and I’ve got to get serious about it. Business is not my vibe, but that’s what I’m taking too.”
I relax a little with the attention off my life. Plus, I’m curious to learn more about her. “What do you want to be taking?”
“Animation, graphic design. I love drawing and writing stories. What I want most in the world is to become one of these people.” She spins around, sweeping her arms at the room.
“A nerd?” I ask, keeping a straight face.
“He can joke! Nice. Well, I’m already one of those. No, that’s not it. I want to create my own comic books and graphic novels.”
Interesting. I don’t have any drawing skills of my own, but there are so many amazing artists I admire. Being able to create something beautiful with your hands is such a gift. But I’m the brawn, not the artist. My hands were made for more destructive things.
“What kind? Do you have any finished work?”
“I haven’t published anything, but I’ve been drawing and telling stories since I was a little kid. I made my first comic book when I was eight. It was about a sentient rock who made friends with a bunny rabbit and a little girl. They got soaked in a puddle of radioactive sludge and gained superpowers.”
I laugh. “I’d read that.”
“That’s a hard no. It was terrible. No need to humor me. I was eight, but my skills have grown considerably since then. Now I’m working on a graphic novel, and I want to make comics for people like me.”
“Beautiful nerds?” I ask, loving the hint of pink creeping up her neck.
“No, but thank you. Plus-sized girls. There has never been enough diverse female representation in comic books. Even the ones with over-the-top powers are hyper sexualized. Objects for the admiration of men. All thin and gorgeous, with perfect hair flowing in a smooth waterfall over their shoulders in every panel. It doesn’t matter what raging battle they’re in the middle of.” Her hands are flying almost as fast as her words. “I’ve never seen myself in those books and that’s what I want. A gorgeous, powerful woman with curves kicking ass and taking names. Not afraid to get a little messy.”
“Sounds good. I’m in.”
“You’re in?”
“Yes, I want to read it. Sign me up. ”
“Okay. It’s not ready yet...” She’s curling in on herself, confident excitement waning.
“That’s fine. Let me know when it is. And I’d love to see some of your art. If you’re into sharing.” I think I’ve talked to her more than anyone else over the summer and I work in a comic book store part time. At least some of the time, I’m obligated to talk to the customers. Although a lot of them are taciturn nerds like me, so it’s not too bad.
“I’ll think about it. See how the weekend goes. If you turn out to not be a creep, I’ll consider it.”
I’ve got nothing except a slight shake of her head. She basically claimed me on sight and now she’s wondering whether I’m a creep. It worries me that her creep radar is so quiet. I’m not one, but all kinds of men out there would take advantage of her openness.
“Not a creep.”
“Whatever you say, Castle. The Punisher is a pretty dark costume for a non creep.” The little smirk is back.
“Okay, Black Widow.” The Punisher is a complicated character. But he became the man he was because he loved his family so much it destroyed him when they were murdered. I envy him that love. That kind of utter selfless devotion can’t exist in real life. Not mine, at least.
We didn’t need to split up for the rest of the afternoon. She told me I could go off and do my own thing if I wanted. If there were any panels or booths or anything I wanted to see that she wasn’t into. But there wasn’t. Our agendas matched. We wanted to go to all the same panels. We were excited about the same speakers. It was comfortable. Familiar. A strange experience that’s left me a little off balance. I’m wary of new people, guarded even around some of my teammates.
So, as we’re leaving Hall A after the philosophy session, her warm hand slips into mine, and she leans in close, resting her red-wigged head on my shoulder.
“I can’t wait to get this thing off,” she says, reaching up to scratch at her scalp.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her if she wants help, but that won’t work. I can’t bring her back to the hostel where I’m sharing a room with seven strangers. That’s the equivalent of bringing someone you met on a dating app back to your room in your parents’ house.
“Any chance you could help me?”
My groin tightens thinking about helping her take it off. That would only be the beginning. Then I’d move on to peel the black leather second skin off so I can see what’s underneath. Every curve, every freckle. I want to devour her.
“I should find something to eat before I head back to my room.” My voice comes out in a rasp. “It’s a little farther out.” A twenty-minute drive, but I won’t be taking a car, so the bus will take longer.
“Oh. Do you live here?”
“No.” I don’t elaborate.
She pulls away from me. Probably deterred by my lack of a response.
“Couldn’t snag a room close by? I get it. The city is packed right now. I booked last year to make sure I would have a place to stay. I’ve got a room here. You could... come back with me. We could order room service. Spend the night...” All the in-your-face confidence is gone, replaced with a vulnerability I recognize. A fear of rejection or being a bother. I don’t want her to feel that way. Not because of me and my issues.
“But I guess you’ve left your bags at your hotel, so if it doesn’t work for you, I totally get it. Don’t worry about it.”
We’ve reached the door leading down the tunnel into the lobby. I could turn away. Leave her for the night and hope she doesn’t decide to enjoy an after party somewhere. Meet someone else to take home. Or I could take a chance. Say yes. Savor every inch of her. It’s not a fair contest. I’m in. I’ve got a tough year ahead of me. Might as well enjoy this weekend to the fullest.
“No.”
Her face falls.
“I mean, no, I left my bag in the lockers, so it’s here. I can grab it. What I should have said was yes. I’d love to spend the night with you.”