Geekerella (Starfield #1)(68)

His face breaks open with relief. “Oh, good! So, listen, if we’re cool and, like, friends again, I think—”

“No.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “But you just said—”

“I’m not trying to be a dick. You were my best friend. I trusted you.” The people behind him are getting restless. Gail is still yacking on the phone with whomever. It better be Mark or I’m throwing all of her underwear in my mini-freezer tonight when we get back to the hotel.

But Lonny—he’s zeroed in on us, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for me to give him a signal. He arches a strong black eyebrow. Do I want him to show Brian the door? Yes, yes I do.

But that’s not going to end things. I need to do that.

I push his copy of Batman: Year One back across the table. “I forgive you, Brian, but I don’t think we can be friends again.”

We both got our copies the first year we went to a con, before I ever became famous. We cosplayed as Carmindor and Euci and stood in line for two hours just to get David Singh’s autograph on our old Starfield DVDs. It was the first time we really hung out outside of school, the weekend we became friends. The kind of friends that would become shoot-the-shit, drinking beer in the back of pickups on the beach friends. The kind of friend that recorded my first audition tape that Dad—Mark—used to get me the role of Sebastian on Seaside Cove. That first con was the start of it.

Then…then my life happened. Seaside Cove. Then Starfield. Then suddenly what I thought was true wasn’t anymore, who I thought I was I wasn’t anymore. And who I was to everyone else shifted. Changed.

“Enjoy the rest of the con,” I tell Brian, motioning for the next person to step up in line.

“Are you kidding me?” Brian scoffs. “You’re going to give me that don’t have time bullshit when you’ve been texting some random girl for the last month?”

I look at him sharply, and his eyebrows jerk up. He’s surprised, caught off guard, and suddenly it clicks—all those moments during filming, all my suspicions of being watched. I wasn’t crazy.

“You,” I say quietly. “You were there. You locked me on the rooftop. You leaked those shots.” My head spins. “How did you even get on set?”

“You haven’t figured it out?” His teeth gleam. “All I had to do was drop Mark’s name and no one would mess with me. Your costume director seems terrified of him. Oh and by the way.” He holds up something—my phone. “Your handler left this behind.”

I lunge for it, but Brian yanks it away.

“Nah, not so fast. Because until like ten minutes ago, I was gonna bring it to you as a peace offering, even though you never answered my messages at the hotel.”

“Look, I was busy shooting and—” I reach for it again. “Just give it back.”

But he doesn’t. He’s looking at the screen. Reading.

“Elle’s here, you know,” he says.

My stomach plummets. It must show on my face because Brian grins.

“Don’t worry. I’ll let her know you’re too busy to connect with friends.” Before I can stop him, he types something out and drops my phone right into my lap. “You’re welcome.”

Then he raps his knuckles against the table and leaves, pushing his way through the crowd as a big guy squeezes in beside him and slides a Starfield poster onto the table for me to sign.

I look at the phone. It’s open to a text message. One sent to Elle. But I didn’t send it. I swallow the rock in my throat.

“Big fan, so excited for the movie!” gushes the guy.

I slide my phone to the side, trying to be nonchalant so Brian can’t get the benefit of rattling me, and uncap my marker. “Yeah? What’re you excited about the most?” I swoop my signature across the bottom of the poster.

“The observation deck,” he says, grinning, “is nice this time of year.”

“Only on the south side of Metron,” I reply, sliding the poster back. “Thanks for coming,” I tell him and look to the next fan. Keep looking ahead, keep looking ahead, I repeat the mantra to myself.

Don’t ever look back.

Finally, Lonny lumbers over and hovers until Brian slinks away out of the line. He stays in my peripheral vision for a while until my bodyguard cracks his knuckles. Finally Brian disappears. I hope for the last time.

Maybe that’s what fame does. It corrupts everything around you until even your best friends see you more as a name than as a person, a commodity instead of an individual. Maybe that’s just my life now.

But then what about Elle? Will the same thing happen when she finds out who I am? She already hates Darien Freeman—but will she hate me too? As I look up at the guy who used to trade Pokémon cards with me behind the cafeteria Dumpsters, I begin to wonder if I really want to take that chance again.

It’ll only end up the same way. Maybe worse now. Maybe worse because I actually have feelings for Elle—deep feelings—and I realize that’s what Gail was trying to warn me about. Not because Elle is a stranger, or because she might be a bad person, but because she’s normal. She’s like everyone else.

And like everyone else, she couldn’t possibly understand.

Gail finally gets off the phone and wanders back to me. “How’re we doing?” she asks happily.