The Princess and the Fangirl (Once Upon a Con #2)(48)

I can barely hear the traffic in the streets way down below.

Even in Jessica Stone’s makeup and clothes, I have the baggage of Imogen Lovelace underneath, and there is still that little voice in my head telling me that I am nothing, that I’m just someone in Milo’s shadow who won’t amount to much—and everyone else already knows it but me.

I don’t want to listen to that voice.

Especially now, when it’s closer than ever to being right. Because General Sond is the next villain.

Because no one cares about Amara. Not really.

Shut up shut up shut up! I say to that disembodied voice.

Even as Jessica, I can’t seem to get Imogen out of my head. The highs from earlier are a dull throb in the back of my memories. How come the negative thoughts sound so much louder than the good ones?

With an aggravated noise, I wrench off my wig, tossing it behind a planter with my keycard, slip off my shoes, and run toward the pool.

The water is fresh and cool, and it shocks all the thoughts out of me—my mind is finally, miraculously void of everything. I swim a lap, letting Jess’s designer dress tangle around my legs. It’s a salt-water pool, so I know it won’t get ruined. I just needed to swim.

Besides, swimming in a pool disguises crying fairly well.

Not that I’m crying.

Because I’m not.

On my third lap, I hear someone calling my name, and I think it’s the security guard asking me to kindly get out of the pool. I pop my head up from the deep end and see that it’s—

Ethan.

Standing there at the other end with his arms folded over his chest, one eyebrow so archedly raised it would make my mother Minerva so freaking proud. My heart leaps into my throat before I realize that him being here can’t be anything good.

Crap, what does he want? What did I do wrong now? I sink down to my nose and bob there, as if I’m hoping he’ll just go away. I’m glad my makeup is mostly waterproof, and that I stopped crying two laps ago. I hope my eyes are mostly dry by now and not red-rimmed and gross.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asks in a hushed and very exhausted tone.

I pop my head out of the water long enough to say, “Swimming,” before I half-submerge my face again.

He sighs. “I can see that. You weren’t in the room, so I thought…Anyway, I saw you swimming down here and came to inform you that the pool’s closed. I’m going back up to the room. To bed.”

“What about Jess?” I say, and instantly kick myself for asking.

Surprised, he tilts his head. “I suppose she’s with your friend Harper. Why?”

“I’m surprised you two aren’t hanging out.” Ugh, why am I being so petty? It’s like my mouth can’t stop it. “I mean, unless you two already were.”

“The panel ran over and I stopped to get dinner. There’s Chinese takeout in the minifridge if you want any.”

He doesn’t seem to be lying. I swim halfway across the pool until my tiptoes can touch the bottom. The pool area is dark. The only light comes from dim lamps in the corners of the deck and the bright fluorescents in the sides of the pool, turning everything a whimsical, unearthly blue. Like being underneath an ocean.

His expression is curious. “You know Jess and I aren’t…we don’t like each other like that. If that’s what you’re insinuating.”

I roll my eyes. “Right. Like anyone can resist the pull of the beautiful Jessica Stone.”

“You’re also beautiful,” he says. But before I can ask whether that’s in response to my statement or it’s a compliment, he adds, “when you’re not being an absolute pain in my ass. What if someone checks the security cameras? Sees you swimming out here?”

“I took off the wig outside the camera’s view,” I reply.

He scowls and pivots to leave, and I realize that I don’t want him to go. Mostly because I’ve been alone all night, and I guess even his company is better than none. “How did you meet, then?”

“Who?”

“Jessica.”

He hesitates, but then he turns around and sits at the edge of the pool. “Honestly? She’s my godsister. Our mothers met way back in college.” As he says this, he rolls up his trousers to just below his knees, takes off his shoes, and sticks his feet into the water. “I’ve known her my entire life. We’ve done everything together.”

“Wait, so you’re like twenty-something? Really?”

He blanches. “Do I look that old? I’ll be eighteen in December. I just finished high school. I’m taking a gap year, and Jess needed an assistant, so here I am.”

“But you wore a suit today!” I reply, flabbergasted. “And you’re always on this high horse of ‘oh look at me I’m so superior to you.’”

“I do not sound like that.”

“Oh you so do. You called me a rapscallion.”

“I will never live that down,” he mumbles, more to himself than to me, and rubs his hand over his face.

“So.” I slowly migrate toward his side of the pool, doing the numbers in my head from what I know about Jess and now what I know about Ethan. “You two are like five years apart? Jess is twenty-three, isn’t she?”

“Actually…no.”