Spoiler Alert (Spoiler Alert #1)(97)

Book!AeneasWouldNever: This is not a hypothetical. In past relationships, tampons have been procured. Back rubs have been dispensed. Bloodstains have been removed from sheets and clothing.

Book!AeneasWouldNever: And in case you were worried, my manhood has nevertheless remained intact. Despite what some men seem to believe.

Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: Well, I’m certainly glad you reassured me about your intact manhood, BAWN.

Book!AeneasWouldNever: I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well, Ulsie.

Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: Thank you.

Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: Also, thank you for distracting me from my woes via our discussion of tampons. I had not anticipated that particular conversational tangent.

Book!AeneasWouldNever: I try to maintain a certain air of mystery.

Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: You’re a constant surprise, my friend. A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside a grocery store with Playtex in your cart.

Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: You never answered my question, though. What do you do when you feel down?

Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: Do you drink tea? Take a bath? Watch a terrible movie? Read? Eat a pint of ice cream? Have a glass of wine?

Book!AeneasWouldNever: At various times in the past, all of the above. But these days, I mostly Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: Yes?

Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: BAWN?

Book!AeneasWouldNever: I mostly talk to you.





27


AFTER APPROXIMATELY TEN SECONDS OF SHARING A HOTEL suite with Alex, Marcus remembered exactly why they were no longer roommates.

His best friend was many things. Ridiculously loyal. Sharp as a sword’s edge. Sympathetic in the face of his friend’s abject, self-inflicted misery. A good distraction from said misery, which was why Marcus had suggested sharing a suite in the first place.

What Alex wasn’t: restful.

Marcus had been hoping for a nap before the evening’s events began. His first photos with fans were scheduled that night, following Alex’s Q&A session, and the participants paid plenty for the privilege. He wanted to look fresh for them. He wanted to feel fresh for them.

Since Alex had talked nonstop during the lengthy car ride from the airport, all through their check-in process, and down every single hallway leading to their suite, though, all hopes of a nap were likely to die a much-lamented death in the near future.

“—don’t know why Lauren’s so worried.” After flopping face-first onto his queen bed, Alex propped himself on his elbows and began tapping on his phone. “I didn’t do anything particularly objectionable to the fan. I only suggested that if she didn’t have anything better to do with her time than insult total strangers, she should occupy said time by going and fucking herself. It’s not my fault she went straight to the tabloids, and it’s certainly not Lauren’s either. Ron and R.J. aren’t going to fire her over something as minor as that.”

Marcus frowned. “What did the fan say to you?”

“Not to me.” Alex’s finger stabbed at the screen with unwonted force. “To Lauren.”

Ah. That explained things, at least somewhat.

Lauren’s appearance could best be termed unconventional. She was short and round. Very short and very round, with comparatively skinny legs and bright eyes and sharp features and a near-constant frown.

She reminded Marcus of a small, plump bird, honestly. A cute one. But he could see how strangers with ugliness inside might look at her and see only ugliness outside.

“Don’t ask me what that fan”—it sounded like an epithet, spat that way in Alex’s most cutting tone—“said to her. It was vile and hurtful, no matter what Lauren claims. I don’t care if she’s used to hearing things like that. It’s not happening in my presence. Not if I can help it.”

Alex shoved a rough hand through his hair, his scowl thunderous.

Nope. No nap occurring anytime soon.

“I’ll go get us some ice,” Marcus offered. “Do you need anything while I’m out?”

“Nope. I’m going to plot out a fic where Cupid’s arrow makes a horrible, insulting woman so eager to fuck herself that she can’t eat or drink, just masturbate, and then she dies of masturbatory malnutrition.” He paused, thoughtful. “Or maybe she’ll just pass out and learn her lesson. I don’t usually kill people in my stories.”

That was Marcus’s cue. “Okay, I’ll be back soon. Try not to get fired while I’m gone, please.”

“No promises,” Alex muttered, and bent over his phone again.

The conference hotel was built around an atrium that rose to skylights far above, the hallways on each floor open to that central square and looking down on the madness below. According to the hotel map on the inside of the door, the ice machine was located on the exact opposite side of his floor’s square, as far away as possible.

Fine. He could use a few minutes of quiet.

The door shut behind him with a bang. Bucket tucked under his arm, Marcus wandered to the other side of the hallway and glanced idly down at reception. Most of the Gates cast and crew in attendance at the con should be arriving shortly, so he checked for familiar faces.

The chances were infinitesimal, with thousands of people crowding the hotel.

Still, there she was. Tiny but recognizable down below. Almost at the front of the check-in line, suitcase by her side, waiting patiently as the discreet lobby lighting set her hair ablaze.