The Princess and the Fangirl (Once Upon a Con #2)(41)

He doesn’t realize he’s staring at me until I speak, and then he clears his throat and turns away. “Nothing. I was—nothing. You look like a fool twirling around. Jess doesn’t do that.”

“Oh, right.” I pass my hand in front of my face; one moment I’m smiling and the next I’m wearing Jess’s nothing-makes-me-smile look. “Is this better?”

“Much.” When we get to the end of the hallway, he says, “May I request a favor?”

“Why yes, old man, you may.”

He glares at the nickname but then sighs in concession. “There’s a panel starting in ten minutes over on the main stage. I’d like to go to it.”

“Oh, you mean the D&D live podcast?”

His eyes widen. “You…know what the panel is?”

“Oh come on, I’m like the queen of ExcelsiCon over here. I know everything happening in my domain.” I throw my hand out across the hallway, indicating the rest of the con. “Everything the nerd funk touches is my kingdom—”

“That’s gross.”

“But true,” I point out, and he agrees. I sigh and shrug, unwittingly crossing my fingers behind my back. “Fine. Just leave me to go back to the hotel alone. Have fun with the tres horny bois.”

He brightens so much that he almost looks charming—almost—before whirling around and shouting “Thank you!” as he runs down the hallway. “And please don’t stop for the paparazzi!”

And then he’s gone.

I uncross my fingers.

And I smile.

Because without any sort of supervision, I can finally break a rule, and if Vance Reigns is gonna take me out tonight, I have to look pretty for it. No, I have to look Jessica Stone pretty.

And he wants to talk about the Save Amara initiative.

With him on my side, I’ll have double the star power.

Turning happily on my heels, I head out onto the skybridge. Besides, Ethan definitely likes Jess. I can tell by the way I caught him looking at me while I was posing for pictures with a seven-year-old Carmindor, the softness of his gaze, the curl of his lips upward ever so slightly. He must’ve forgotten for a second that I wasn’t the real Jess. Those looks are probably only for her.

That makes me strangely bitter, and I’m not sure why.

He’s right about the paparazzi, however. They’re waiting on the skybridge when I get there and attempt to ask me questions, but I ignore them and walk into the hotel lobby. Are they going to follow me all the way up to the room?

But then a tall, broad black man steps between me and the two trailing paps. In a deep rumble of a voice he asks them to leave. They begin to give him trouble until they see the PRIVATE STAR SECURITY patch on his shirt; then they do a quick U-turn out of the lobby.

“They giving you trouble, Miss Stone?” he asks, as if I’m supposed to know this towering goliath of a man.

I open my mouth, close it, open it again.

I’m saved, thankfully, by a familiar voice. “Hey, Lonny!” Darien calls. “Sorry it took us so long. Elle didn’t know what color Converses to wear.”

He and his girlfriend, Elle Wittimer, cross the lobby when Darien recognizes me with a soft smile. “Hey! Nice to see you again. This is my friend, Lonny Johnson, head of Private Star Security,” he says, motioning to the muscular man. “He’s the one in charge of ExcelsiCon’s security this year. I probably owe my life to him a few times over. He used to be my bodyguard.”

“Still miss it sometimes,” Lonny replies.

“Really?”

“No.” The big guy checks his watch. “And we’re going to be late if we don’t get going. Antonio will kill me if I miss dinner again.”

Elle laughs. She is really pretty—those online smear campaigns lied about absolutely everything. Her hair is box-dyed the perfect shade of Amara red, and her eyes are hazel behind clear glasses. She’s wearing a subtle Starfield T-shirt dress and sparkly Converses. She looks over at me and says, “Would you want to come?”

Yes. But then I remember Vance Reigns asking me to dinner, and it feels like the Hulk has split me in half. Starflame, I wish I had a body double right now.

I put on a plastic smile. “Oh, no, I can’t,” I tell her, trying not to sound like part of my soul has been ripped out of my body. “Thank you, though.”

“You can always call if you change your mind,” Darien replies, folding his fingers through Elle’s, and they follow Lonny out of the hotel and onto the Atlanta street, where they get into a black car and drive away.

I stand there, wishing I’d gone with them and simultaneously missing Milo and Bran—and Harper. I’ve known Harper for years on the internet and what do I do? Let Jess pretend to be me and meet her IRL. I hope Jess didn’t bungle it. I hope Harper doesn’t hate her—um, me. They’ll be going to the Stellar Party tonight, and I wish I could go.

But you have that rad date with Vance, I remind myself. Even though I don’t know how to contact him. Could he just call the hotel phone? Yeah, surely.

Right?

I force a pep back into my step, telling myself that I’m coming down with a case of the con crud; it’s not that I’m missing my friends and having massive FOMO while I dig around my purse for my keycard. It’s fine. I’ll just go back to my room and, I don’t know, watch episodes of Starfield? Browse Tumblr’s #sheith and #carmindeuci tags? Play Pokémon Go! around the lobby? I have a few lures left…