Geekerella (Starfield #1)(81)

I stumble, and one of Mom’s shoes slips off.

“What are you doing?” Sage grabs my hand when I bend for the shoe. “Come on! We have to go!”

She’s right. We have to go. I have to go. Pull myself out of this—this—whatever this is. This dream. This moment. A shoe is a shoe—it’s not worth the wrath of Catherine.

I take off at a run just as Darien rounds out of the revolving doors. Jumping into the driver’s seat, Sage slams the truck into gear and I grab ahold of the handle bar for the passenger foothold. The truck heaves forward as I swing open the door and climb inside, next to Cal.

In the rearview mirror, he’s still running after us. But as we pick up speed his feet slow to a stop and he doubles over, resting his hands on his knees, my name on his lips a moment before he disappears behind a building. I turn to face the road, chest tight and head pounding.

He’ll get over me. All we had was a moment. Just a moment in an impossible universe waltzing that beautiful, impossible waltz.





I’M ABOUT TO VOMIT.

My lungs burn with every breath, but I right myself, looking down at the glittery slipper. I swipe it off the ground. I’ll drop it off at the hotel desk. Maybe they can hold on to it until Elle can pick it up. Or I can tell her.

A knot forms in my throat.

I almost did—I almost told her who I was. I was so close. Tapping the bottom of the shoe against my palm, I turn back toward the hotel.

And freeze.

The Nox King is standing in the way, phone out and recording the entire thing under the harsh light of a streetlamp. He smirks, and that’s when I recognize him. I curse as he grins wider.

“Nice cosplay, Brian,” I spit out at him.

“Had you fooled at least.”

“Can you stop recording?”

“Why don’t you ask your dad?”

I sigh. Yeah, Mark is going to kill me. But I’ll deal with that later. “You can just not sell it, you know. Pretend to be a decent person.”

“Still so blind, man?” Brian shakes his head. “I kinda feel sorry for you.”

I’m too angry to play games. Elle was right here—right beside me—but then suddenly she wasn’t, and when she left it felt like she took the air from around me until I could barely breathe.

Brian’s still talking. “I’m sure we’ll get a lot for this footage, too. What should the headline be, you think? Darien Favors Contestant? Geek Girl Will Do Anything to Win? Renowned Cosplay Competition Upended by Star Darien Freeman’s D—”

That’s it. If one good thing has happened over the last several months of preproduction and soulless salads and protein shakes and four a.m. workouts with Arnold Schwarzenegger’s cousin, it’s that I learned to throw a punch. Thumb out, clench fist—

Swing.

Brian stumbles from the force of it. Clutching his jaw, he waves his phone at me. “It’s still recording, stupid! You want assault and battery on the headlines too?”

“ASSAULT THIS.” And with a wild yell, I charge at him.

Brian spins around and dashes toward the revolving doors. I slam into the same wedge with him, like two sardines in a tin can, pulling at his obnoxious Nox ears.

“Ow, ow, ow! Hands off!” he cries. “Those were expensive!”

“We were friends!” I manage to rip off one ear before he pushes the revolving door far enough to escape into the lobby. “You just said you wanted to be friends!”

“Yeah, until you turned out to be a better-than-everyone-else asshole!” he shouts over his shoulder, circling an expensive-looking couch. The upholstery is really nice, but screw it. I climb over the cushions—he thought I’d go around—and grab him by that stupid nonsensical cape. I always said the Nox King didn’t need a cape.

“And you sold me out! You were jealous!”

“Seriously, man?” He whirls behind another chair and shoves it at me. “Your head’s so far up your dad’s ass it’s unbelievable.”

I catch the chair before it slams into my crotch. “Take that back.”

“You’re daddy’s little boy. Doing everything he wants. He manufactured you, you know that?” He grabs a handful of magazines and throws them at me.

I duck as a Teen Vogue with me on the cover sails over my head. “I said take it back.”

“What, not proud of being his little b—”

I charge at him again. He cuts through a family of four and shoves their luggage cart between us. I grab the other side. “So you took a picture of me face-planting into a dock and sold it? That really made everything better!” I try to jerk the cart away, but he holds fast. “Why’d you do it?”

His dark purple makeup begins to flake off as his face scrunches in anger. “Why don’t you ask your father?”

“Mark’s got nothing to do with it—”

“He planted the pictures!” Brian roars.

I gape.

“Never thought of that, huh?” He sneers. “Don’t you think the timing was a little too good? Just wrapped up the second season of Seaside. You’d auditioned for Carmindor and people kinda knew who you were—”

“Frak you.”

“—but they didn’t really know you. No one cared outside of your SeaCos or whatever the hell they’re called.”