Maladaptive

Chapter 5

JULES

Iblinked twice, my imagined scenario dissolving as I found myself standing at the entrance of the chaotic Comic Con hall, still clutching a flyer handed to me somewhere between the parking lot and now.

How long had I been dissociating?

I looked down at the pamphlet, and his picture was right there.

Chris Jones. The real one. Not the one I’ve spent way too many hours daydreaming about.

His photo stared back at me. His eyes darker than they really were.

Maybe the camera couldn’t quite capture the ridiculous shade of blue I’d seen a thousand times… in my dreams.

Listen to yourself.

Of course, they looked ridiculous in my head. They were not real.

A small commotion pulled my attention to the right. There was a poor girl who passed out cold, and her friend was frantically trying to carry her while holding their autographed photos like freaking relics. It made me feel slightly better about my own celebrity crush on steroids.

I inhaled. Exhaled. Okay. Dream Jules was officially gone, and in her place stood me, the real Jules. Sweating, exhausted, and trying not to lose her shit in front of Liam and Carol.

There were people everywhere, packed shoulder to shoulder. Superheroes, villains, and hundreds of other cosplays I couldn’t name, moved around us. Chatter, laughter, loud music. All blended into this overwhelming buzz that rang in my ears. My heart pounded.

Stop. Be human. Now.

I tried to take a deep breath, but failed.

“Are you su—” I began to ask, but Liam was already off like a rocket into that sea of people.

“Spider-Man!” He spotted something and darted toward a booth.

Fuck. Me.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

My body tensed while I tried hard to prevent my mind from spiraling or even going into a full-blown panic attack when a gentle hand landed on my shoulder. I turned quickly to find Carol standing there, her calmness grounding me.

“You need to remember to breathe, or people will think you’re cosplaying a zombie.” She joked, trying to lighten up the mood. I assumed I looked more pale than usual. I forced a laugh and exhaled slowly.

In front of us, Liam’s eyes were wide as he took in all the vibrant displays around him. The tables and shelves overflowed with toys, action figures, and endless rows of comic books. His gaze jumped from one thing to another until it landed on a Spider-Man comic.

Carol and I followed closely, trying not to lose him in the madness. His hands reached for the comic, carefully lifting it off the shelf as if it were sacred.

He was about to say something when a young woman in a Wolverine costume strolled over and crouched to his level. Her yellow and blue spandex suit hugged her frame, but her wide smile was the first thing I noticed.

“Do you like Spider-Man?” she asked.

Liam looked up at me, hesitation in his eyes, and I gave him a slight nod of encouragement.

“Yeah!” He exclaimed. “He’s my favorite superhero!”

“Spider-Man is awesome! But I have to say, Wolverine’s my favorite.” She gestured proudly to her costume. “Did you know Ben Parks, the actor who played Spider-Man in the last movie, is here signing autographs? You should totally get that comic signed by him!”

The boy’s eyes went impossibly wider.

“Really?” He gasped, spinning to face me, pleading with his expression. “Can we please go, Mom? Please?”

How could I say no to that face?

I chuckled, reaching for the comic.

“Of course, baby. Let me see that.” Flipping it over, I checked the price tag (reasonable enough, thank God!) and quickly pulled a couple of bills from my purse. I handed the money to the Wolverine girl, who promptly rang it up.

“Good luck, little one.” She said and gave him a cheerful pat on the head before moving on to helping another customer.

Carol wandered off to the next booth, and we caught up with her in time to spot the line.

It stretched all the way to the back of the convention center.

Everywhere I looked, people were wearing Spider-Man shirts, hats, and costumes.

People of all ages waited for a moment with the man himself, Mr. Parks.

Couldn’t think of one single thing in life that would make me willingly face… that. But being a mom is about sacrifices, right?

Right?

Could I fake a headache and go home?

I sighed, rubbing my forehead as the reality of the situation sank in. Before I could say a word, Liam tugged at my arm.

“Come on, Mom, come on!” He urged, already pulling me toward the crowd.

With a defeated smile, I let him pull me toward the mayhem. We got in line, and time immediately slowed down. We shuffled forward, inch by inch, Liam peeking ahead every so often, but the queue seemed to stretch on endlessly.

Carol sighed loudly enough for me to side-eye her.

She was already scrolling through her phone, with exhaustion written all over her face.

Meanwhile, I distracted myself by people-watching.

I couldn’t help it, the costumes were so good.

I spotted everything from a flawless Cat Woman to a very creative homemade Doctor Octopus.

Some cosplayers posed for pictures, and others seemed as tired as the rest of us mortals waiting in line.

Suddenly, the air changed. The noise level shot up, and people craned their necks, looking in the same direction.

“Wow…” Carol said as she glanced around. “Looks like someone else famous showed up.”

I held Liam’s hand tightly as the horde pressed in, bodies squeezing us from all sides. I thought it couldn’t get worse. But it did. Fast. And that panic attack was knocking at my door again.

Liam’s voice was small and trembled with fear. “Mom?”

“It’s okay, honey. I’m right here.” I wanted to reassure him, but how could I?

I was a mess myself. All I wanted was to get the hell out of there.

So, I took a deep breath and decided it was time to cut our losses.

“Maybe we should go…” I steered us out, pushing gently through the throng of people, keeping Liam and Carol close.

As we managed to get through a particularly tight cluster, a large security guard came barreling past, nearly knocking us over with the force of his push.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The adrenaline and anger mixed, and I snapped.

The guard turned, his expression hidden behind dark sunglasses, and I wondered if I was in the middle of shooting yet another annoying Men in Black movie.

What pompous fuck made their security guards wear sunglasses inside? No wonder he was bumping into people.

“There are kids here,” I shot back. “I’m sure Mr. Famous can stroke his ego without trampling children.”

Note to self: never go to an event with famous people ever again.

The guard hesitated, surprised by my outburst. His face softened with regret.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I just—” Before he could finish, a voice cut through the noise. Sharp, irritated, and unmistakably familiar.

“Are you freaking kidding me?”

My heart skipped a beat. My mouth dropped open.

It was him. I knew it instantly.

I couldn’t move. Zero control of my body. I wondered if I was having a stroke.

It felt like I’d known that voice for years, though it was the first time it had ever touched my ears.

I spotted the actor, Chris Jones, pushing through the crowd with an infuriated look on his face.

He looked almost exactly like the man from my daydreams, except for that full beard and displeased gaze that was different and unsettlingly real.

My eyes roamed his body in a matter of seconds. The muscles rippling under his navy sweater. The broad shoulders and freckled neck. He was so tall that he towered over his own enormous guards. He was even hotter in person.

Was I flushing? Yes, yes, I was.

My body couldn’t decide if it should freak out because I was a crazed fan meeting my Hollywood obsession or because it was short-circuiting over the fact that the person standing in front of me was real.

Not a daydream. Not a figment of my overactive imagination.

The one I had held full-blown conversations with… while completely alone.

My cheeks burned hotter. Fantastic.

Chris placed a hand on the guard’s shoulder. We could all feel his impatience radiating.

“Hey, friend, do you mind? I’m late.”

The man flustered. “Sorry, sir, I…”

Chris, visibly furious, was about to brush past him and rejoin the center of the security circle when his gaze fell on me. For a split second, time seemed to freeze.

I was wrong before. This was how a stroke must feel.

I wanted to break eye contact, but his eyes were the most absurd shade of turquoise.

They were so stupidly identical to how I’d pictured them in my head.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe. I had to remind myself to inhale because all I could think about was how much I wanted to dive straight into them and disappear.

The anger drained from his face, replaced by a look of utter shock.

His skin went paper pale, like he’d seen a ghost. If he wasn’t staring straight into my eyes, I’d think something wild was happening right behind me.

I would’ve turned to check… if I could tear my eyes away from his.

A couple of seconds of silence felt like hours.

“Jules?” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

Before I could comprehend what was happening, another guard stepped in and pulled him back into the protective circle. A petite, sharp-eyed woman in business attire and a sleek ponytail tugged him along. But even as she dragged him forward, Chris remained looking back.

Looking at… me.

As suddenly as he’d appeared, he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd as his team hurried him away.

And I stood there, frozen, my mind spinning.

The world around me blurred, one hand holding tightly to Liam’s and another rushing to cover my mouth because, for a moment there, I thought I would throw up.

Beside me, Carol’s expression mirrored my shock.

“What was that?” She finally asked.

I opened my mouth, but the words tangled in my throat. “I…” I could feel my heartbeat, not just in my neck but pulsing in my eyeballs.

“How does Chris Jones know your name?”

My mind reeled, grasping for an explanation.

“I… I don’t know.”

I wasn’t lying. Was I daydreaming again? With me, the line between reality and fantasy was so fragile that I couldn’t be sure.

I realized I was holding Liam’s hand a little too tight, so I let it go. I glanced down and dug my nails into my palms, savoring the sharp sting. I took a slow breath, letting the sensation wash over me and trying to shake off the fog. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. I had to focus on my kid.

Crouching down to his level, I softened my voice.

“Are you okay, honey? Do you want to go?”

His eyes were wide, but his expression was surprisingly calm. He shook his head.

“No, Mom. I still want to see Spider-Man.”

I forced a smile, trying to mirror his calm.

“Okay, we’ll stay,” I murmured, smoothing his hair. “Let’s go get that autograph, then.”

We made our way back to the line, where a kind group let us squeeze back to the same spot we were before. I could feel my sister’s eyes practically burning a hole into the side of my head.

She wasn’t letting this go, was she? Fine. I ignored her. Or at least, I tried to. But then she leaned in and whispered, making sure Liam couldn’t hear.

“That was Chris Jones.”

“Yes,” I said in the flattest tone possible.

“He said your name.” She wasn’t buying the casual act.

“Did he?”

“Juliette Davis,” her voice was louder now. “Don’t pretend I’m crazy. You heard it, too.”

“Yes, he said my name. So what?”

“So what?” She repeated, this time loud enough to catch the attention of not only Liam but also the curious group in front of us.

“What do you want me to say?” I muttered, finally turning to meet her gaze. I was trying so damn hard to act normal, and she was making it impossible.

“I want you to tell me when you meet Chris freaking Jones.”

“I’ve never met him before,” I said a little too quickly.

Carol squinted and stared at me like she could read every lie I’d ever told in my life.

She was analyzing her options. Would she believe me and let it go, or keep poking until I cracked?

I prayed she would leave me alone. And it worked because she had quit the questionnaire.

I thought I would have at least a couple of minutes of peace.

I was wrong.

It was only seconds later when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Startled, I turned around quickly.

“Hi,” said the young woman. It took me a beat to recognize her. She was with Chris Jones just now.

Shit.

Carol and I exchanged suspicious looks.

“Hi,” I replied cautiously.

“I’m Chloe,” she said, offering a polite smile. “I’m Mr. Jones’ assistant.”

Oh.

Carol’s eyebrows shot up, and she quickly changed her expression to a more welcoming and excited one.

“Hi!” She said.

“Mr. Jones would like you to join him in his dressing room,” Chloe said, looking at me.

Shit, shit, shit. I blinked, completely caught off guard. What could I say to that?

“Why?”

Well, not that, dumb ass.

Carol’s judgmental eyes were back, and Chloe hesitated before responding.

“I’m not really sure, ma’am. He asked me to deliver the invitation.”

I stared at her. For way too long. My head was a complete mess, and all my energy was poured into keeping my expression as calm as possible. Apparently, there was no energy left to form words. Say something.

“I can’t,” I finally did.

“It sounded like he had something important to discuss if you don’t mind me saying.” Chloe’s fingers fidgeted as she spoke, betraying her discomfort. Clearly, the last thing she wanted was to return empty-handed.

I glanced down at Liam, who was way too focused on the fact that he could now see Ben Parks to notice me, Chloe, or anyone else, for that matter.

“I’m with my son,” I said quietly, hoping it would be enough to finish the conversation. “We’re—”

“Nonsense!” Carol interrupted, flashing a no-arguments-allowed smile.

Before I could say another word, she turned to Chloe.

“She’ll go,” she nudged me forward. “I’ll stay with Liam, and you can call me when you’re done.

” She didn’t wait for me to argue, which I absolutely would have if she weren’t already inching Liam toward the crowd.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Just fucking go!”

I stood there watching as they merged into the sea of people. Chloe took my hesitation as permission and smiled in relief. “Great! Follow me, please.”

I didn’t move. Until Chloe almost disappeared into the crowd. Who was I kidding? My whole body was screaming for me to go. So I followed—screaming, but only in my head.