Misfits Like Us (Like Us #11)(32)

I’m a Hale. My last name grants me access to full capacity panels. It’s always carried a little more weight at events like these. Halway Comics has a few rooms just dedicated to their properties. My mom and dad spend a decent amount of time working the Halway Comics booth and leading panels, so we only occasionally run into them.

Sometimes they wish they could just attend Comic-Cons as fans. They often lament over the glory years where they could, and they want those experiences for us too.

As soon as we slip inside and the doors shut, Frog glares behind us like she can laser beam my enemies with her eyes. At least, I imagine she’d be a great Cyclops. Her gaze softens on me. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I shrug like it’s nothing.

It’s nothing.

It’s nothing.

I repeat it to make it true. Quickly, I scan the room and the rows and rows of chairs. It’s easy to spot Xander considering three bodyguards, including Donnelly, stand a few feet from his end-row seat. His Elvish friend Easton occupies the seat next to him, and three vacant chairs near him have little cards on the seats that must say reserved or something.

Maybe security came ahead to reserve the seats. It’d make sense since they usually scope out areas anyway. Security is sly like that. On stage, actors start walking out to thunderous applause.

“Want to take a seat?” Frog asks me.

I shake my head. “Not just yet.” Date. Date. I need to find a date.

Xander rises with the audience and claps wholeheartedly. I smile. It’s hard not to be proud of him. There was a time he’d never set foot in a room this crowded. Easton and Xander share a bigger grin like this is the best day of their lives.

I arch my neck and spot a back-corner table decked out in merch and pre-signed posters from the cast. Now that the panel is starting, less fans wait for merch, but a guy in a wizard’s robe is last in line. With no hurry, he’s taking in the actors and the merch line and the audience. Kinda like me.

He can’t be older than twenty-five.

“This way,” I tell Frog.

She follows as I stroll towards the line.

I keep focus. One mission in mind.

Convince this random stranger to board the spacecraft with me. We shall fly together to otherworldly planets and go on the ultimate quest—a triple date.

Not a bad plot. I make a mental note of it for my next fic.

“Excuse me,” I whisper. “Gandalf?”

He whirls around with raised eyes like I called him a dirty name. Shaggy sun-bleached blond hair underneath his hood, his gray robe is clipped together with an intricate iron broach. “Gandalf?” he scoffs. “I’m clearly Merlin.”

I frown, trying to find some identifying feature to help make that conclusion. “Clearly?” I ask.

His annoyance transforms into a blinding white smile. “I’m just shitting you. I’m obviously Gandalf the Grey. Minus the whole beard thing. Didn’t want to wear an itchy wig.” He eyes my head. “Yours is cute though.”

I touch the pink wig. “Oh thanks.” We both take a step forward as the line shortens. With even a single step, the loose glitter from my C-plus distraction spills around me.

He smiles brighter. “The glitter is a nice touch. I’m Korey with a K by the way.”

“I’m Luna with an L.”

“I know,” he says casually. “Luna with an L. Hale with an H.”

My cheeks heat. He’s cute. Kinda funny even if his opening line was to make me feel badly by mistaking him for another wizard. “What gave me away?”

“Besides the fact that you look like your mom, the tatted bodyguard standing behind you was a dead giveaway. All you Hales have tattooed bodyguards or something?”

I freeze.

Tattooed bodyguard.

As in…

I peek over my shoulder. Donnelly stands only a few feet behind me where Frog once stood, his rolled sleeves uncovering his inked arm. I quickly spot Frog near Xander’s chair. They swapped places. But why?

I try to shake it off, but it’s hard to ignore his presence. He was my first choice. My second choice is standing before me with all the better qualifications on paper.

Younger.

“How old are you?” I wonder.

“Twenty-two.”

Check.

Not a bodyguard.

“What do you do for a living?”

He narrows his eyes. “Um…I’m still in college?”

Check.

Not Paul Donnelly.

“Does Korey with a K have a last name?” I ask.

He tilts his head and gives me a once-over. Skepticism and intrigue mix together. “What is this an interview?”

“Basically,” I say into a shrug. “I need a date for this thing. You’re a living, breathing human male around my age so you seem to fit the bill.”

His brows rise. “That’s a low bar.”

I go rigid or maybe I feel the tension behind me. Maybe if I was to look behind me…no, I can’t. I force myself to keep my gaze rooted to Korey. No distractions to this mission at hand. The spacecraft must fly!

“Some bars are made to drink,” I say. “Some bars are made to climb. Some bars you just want to step over.”

“Can’t say I love being stepped over.” He seems casual enough, but it rubs me wrong again.