Chapter 4
Post-room service pancakes. Pre-dodging personal questions.
The madness begins.
“Okay, Emma,” Leah said as their Uber pulled away from the hotel. She’d laughed—loudly—at Emma’s suggestion to walk to the convention center. “Let’s go through your day.”
Emma glanced down at the color-coded schedule on Leah’s phone. One color stood out among the soft pastels.
“What does red mean?”
Leah leaned away, shielding the phone against her chest. “Don’t question the system, writer. Let me deal with the technicalities.”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “I feel like I’m being handled.”
“Good,” Leah said, scrolling. “You absolutely are. So, listen up. Badge pickup first. Then a BuzzFeed interview—you might want Catlyn’s favorite cocktail and Lucen’s guilty-pleasure candy lined up.
Lunch at a Netflix mingle, and then you’re doing a podcast, Tropes & Canon.
Huge nerds, but other nerds love them, which means you will too. ”
She paused, daring her to disagree. Emma just shrugged.
“Sounds like the highlight of the day so far.”
A satisfied smirk tugged at Leah’s mouth. “That’s because you haven’t heard the next part. At two, you have a free hour to do whatever you want. Hang out backstage, go for a walk, watch the Darkreach panel in Hall H . . .”
Emma’s head snapped up.
“Darkreach panel?”
Had Leah deliberately built that into her schedule? Jesus. Was her Darren Cole crush really that obvious?
The dystopian sci-fi show was far too serious, with clunky dialogue and gritty lighting, but she never missed an episode. Darren’s Kael Ferros made it worth the watch—sly, unpredictable, impossible to look away from.
Emma might have developed a habit of scrolling past all the scenes he wasn’t in, leaving her with only the vaguest understanding of the plot. She figured it balanced out, since she sometimes rewatched the ones he was in.
It wasn’t the first time Emma had fallen for an actor or a fictional character. One infatuation had replaced the next for as long as she could remember, starting with her confused childhood feelings for Simba.
Not exactly normal, she knew that, but it had become a quiet constant in her life. The fantasies were always there for her, soft and safe when the real world felt overwhelming or disappointing.
Her crush on Darren was the longest. Not something she thought of every day—just always there in the background.
A warm twinge hit her whenever his name or his face popped up.
And every November, she rewatched him as Sebastian Vale in Midnight Dominion, when the evenings turned dark and gothic like the show.
Of course, things had . . . intensified a little once she started writing The Bonds of Light, seeing Darren’s face every time Lucen walked onto the page. But at least now she could claim that daydreaming about him served a professional purpose.
Not that she’d ever admitted her inspiration—not even to Leah—despite fans and interviewers constantly trying to pry it out of her.
“Yeah,” Leah said, watching her reaction. “Thought so.”
“But you said Hall H,” Emma said. “Isn’t there a whole process to get in there? Sounds like that might interfere with your sacred color coding.”
“Oh. Right,” Leah said, her tone strangely airy. She glanced down again. “Well, after that, you’re on the judges’ panel in a YA cosplay contest. Should be light and fun. Just pick out your favorites and expect at least five cottagecore Lucens.”
Emma laughed. “Is that a thing?”
The look Leah gave her was deadly serious. “It’s Comic-Con, Emma. You can’t let anything surprise you. Last year, a Totoro and a Kylo Ren asked if I was interested in a threesome.”
Emma’s brows shot up. The car rolled on in silence for a few moments before Leah noticed, answering with a vigorous eye roll.
“No, obviously I didn’t.” Then, she muttered, “The Totoro smelled funny.”
“I’ll keep my nose out for a better-smelling one,” Emma said, grinning brightly. “Now that I know what you’re into.”
Leah snapped her fingers, sharp as a Catholic nun. “Focus, Whitehart. After the cosplay contest, we head back, freshen up, and then it’s the rooftop thing I told you about. That’s it. Should be a nice and easy first day. Warm-up before tomorrow, when the real madness starts.”
Right. The brief lightness drained out of her. Clearly, she and Leah had different definitions of “nice and easy,” but they agreed on one thing: tomorrow was going to be bigger.
“You mean the panel,” she said, trying for a neutral tone.
“I do indeed.” Leah leaned toward the window as the car turned a corner. “We’ll prep for that later. You’re sure you don’t want me to grab you something else to wear?”
Emma blinked at the pivot. Leah had already side-eyed her outfit back at the hotel, but there’d been no time to argue. She’d gone with classic black pants and a navy silk blouse. Safe. Comfortable. The color of the blouse set off her blonde hair in a way she actually liked.
“If you’re talking about the blue-slash-black combo,” Emma said, “apparently it’s no longer—”
“No, honey,” Leah cut in dryly. “Not your daring color palette. I mean the fact that this is your fun job, not HR orientation day.”
Emma glared at her. “This is how I dress, Leah.”
“Correction. This is how controller Emma dresses. You just haven’t questioned it yet.”
“If this is your pitch for the stiletto club, my feet are officially uninterested.”
Leah gave her a look. “Cute.” Then her expression softened. “But seriously, I just want people to see the Emma I see when you let your guard down. Not the one hiding behind safe blouses and everyone else’s expectations.”
Her gaze lingered for a moment, then she turned back to the window. Only the low rumble of the car filled the silence.
Emma shifted in her seat.
She’d spent years meeting deadlines and over-delivering, first at work, now in her writing career. It had become second nature, indistinguishable from who she was. It made her feel good. Accomplished.
So how was she supposed to tell the difference between that . . . and what she actually wanted?
The car slowed, the driver glancing at them in the rearview mirror. “Can’t take you any further. The rest of Harbor Drive is closed off for the Con.”
Outside the window, the crowd had thickened, sunlight flashing off cosplay armor and raised phone screens.
“Well then,” Leah said, her mouth curving into a wicked smile. “Showtime, darling.”