CHAPTER ONE
TARA
A trio of Ghostbusters bumped my
shoulder, knocking me into a group of Disney princesses. I muttered a quick
apology and continued through the mob, ignoring people at booths handing out
flyers, swag bags, and free comics. I could barely breathe with so many bodies
packed tight around me, at least half of which were in costume.
Welcome to San Diego Comic-Con, aka nerd
paradise. Four days of shameless geekiness and a celebration of every fandom
you could possibly think of. If you could watch it, read it, or play it,
someone was probably cosplaying as a character from it.
I was in heaven.
Or at least I would be in heaven if
not for the butterflies in my stomach.
Ugh. Butterflies in my stomach,
seriously? Talk about a cliché. As a writer I shouldn’t even be thinking in clichés. But I was about to speak
on a panel about my graphic novel, followed by my first ever book signing. At
Comic-Con, of all places. It was both my dream come true and an introvert’s
worst nightmare. Nothing had prepared me for the sheer enormity of the four-day
event, or the chaos created by hundreds of thousands of people packed into the
convention center. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to jump up and down and
cheer, or curl up in a dark corner and rock back and forth until it was all
over.
But, if I was honest with myself, the
real reason for those damn butterflies was the fact that I was about to meet
Hector, the artist of my graphic novel, in person for the first time.
I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous about meeting him, either. I shouldn’t be
nervous. We’d been friends for years, after all. But…what if it was weird when
we met face to face, without computer screens and thousands of miles between
us? What if we didn’t know what to say or how to act around each other? What if
the connection we had online didn’t translate into real life?
What if we just didn’t click offline?
I forced my way through the crowd
toward the Black Hat Comics booth. As the third largest comic book publisher, after
Marvel and DC, they had a huge booth right in the middle of the exhibit hall.
It could be spotted from anywhere inside thanks to the giant black wizard hat
stretching all the way to the ceiling, covered in hundreds of little twinkling
stars.
There was no sign of Hector yet, but I
spotted the trim, dark goatee and wire-frame glasses of our editor Miguel, who stood
behind a table covered in free post cards, buttons, magnets, and sample comics.
“Hey, Tara,” he said, giving me a
quick hug. “Good to see you again. Are you ready for your panel?”
“I hope so.”
“I know you’ll do great. We’re just
waiting for Hector now and then we’ll head up to the room.”
I shuffled out of the way of someone
carrying a huge box of action figures into the booth. I stepped back and the
crowd swallowed me up, blocking my view, and I had to fight my way through.
When I emerged, Hector stood beside Miguel,
shaking hands and making their introductions. His mouth curled into a slight
grin as our eyes made contact. My heart skipped a beat at the sight – another
cliché, but given the circumstances, could anyone blame me?
He was so much bigger in person than I’d imagined. Not just tall, but broad and
muscular, too. I’d seen him through a webcam, in photos, and on The Sound, but I had never seen the full
package up close like this. Nothing had prepared me for how large and masculine
he’d be in real life.
Or how insanely hot he would be.
He’d always been good looking, of
course. But in person he was mouth-wateringly gorgeous, the living embodiment
of tall, dark, and handsome with curly hair peeking out from under his Villain
Complex baseball cap, smooth, bronze skin, and warm, brown eyes I could fall
into forever.
And his arms! His arms deserved
sonnets written about them. They were huge—probably as big as my thighs, and
all muscle. I had the strongest urge to wrap my hands around them and see if
they were as hard as they looked. For a brief moment I imagined him sliding
those arms around me and lifting me up, and how good they would feel as they
brought me to his lips…
Hold on, where had that image come
from? I’d never thought about Hector in that way before. We’d always just been
friends. That was it.
“Great, you’re both here,” Miguel
said, bringing me out of my trance. “I have to talk to someone for a minute,
and then I’ll take you both to your panel, okay?”
He disappeared into the booth and I stared
up at Hector, unable to speak. I didn’t know how to react now that we were
together. Should I hug him? Shake his hand? Kiss him on the cheek? I had no
idea what the correct social protocol was when you met an online friend in
person for the first time.
“Hector…” His name was the only thing
I could manage to say. Words, usually my closest friends, seemed to have
abandoned me completely. Maybe it was those arms that were making me crazy. I’d
always had a thing for guys’ arms. Not to mention those broad shoulders and
that toned chest, wow. His black t-shirt did nothing to hide the contours of
his abs, and all I could think about was what he would look like without that
thin fabric in the way.
Okay, those thoughts? They had to
stop. This was just a silly rush of emotions from finally meeting him in person
after so many years. Nothing more.
“Hey, Tara.” He’d been checking me
out, too. It was like we both needed to drink in the sight of each other before
we could process that this was real life and not a dream.
I gave up on trying to figure out the
correct social protocol and threw myself against him, into that hard chest and
those incredible biceps. He wasn’t really a hugger, from what he’d told me
anyway, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was just so happy that we were really
together, face to face, after so long.
He didn’t seem to mind. His arms
circled my back and he pulled me tight against him, his face pressing into my
hair. I heard his heart pounding as he held me and he smelled so good, like
pine or something equally masculine. I could have stayed like that for hours, but
I pulled back before it could get awkward.
“It’s so good to meet you in person,”
I managed to get out.
His hands lingered on my arms, like he
didn’t want to let go of me either. “Finally.”
“I know, I can’t believe it took us three
years.” I studied his face, so different in three dimensions, yet nearly as familiar
as my own reflection. Something about him looked off, like he didn’t quite line
up with my mental image of him, but I couldn’t tell what. “It almost doesn’t
feel real. It’s like I know you so well, but at the same time, I don’t know you
at all.”
“It is strange. But you do know me. Better than almost anyone.”
He looked so serious when he said
that, so intense, that I wasn’t sure how to respond. Instead I hugged him
again. This time he didn’t return it quite as hard.
“Sorry,” I said, pulling away from
him. “I know you don’t like hugs.”
“I’ll make an exception for you.” He
never took his eyes off me, even in the middle of all the chaos around us, and
it made me feel warm all over. I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Where’s the rest of the band?”
“They’re around somewhere.” He
finally looked away as he said it, like he was scanning the crowd for them.
“I can’t wait to meet them. I feel
like I know them already, after hearing so much about them over the years and
watching you all on The Sound.”
“That reminds me.” He fished around
in his pocket, and then shoved something into my hand. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“A ticket and backstage pass for our
show tonight. If you want to come, that is. You don’t have to.” He pulled off
his Villain Complex baseball cap and ran his fingers through his hair. “You
probably already have plans, huh? With Andy?”
“No, no plans.” I played with the
edge of the ticket, my stomach clenching up at the thought of Andy. “I’d love
to see you perform in person. I’ll be there.”
“Cool.” He shoved his baseball cap back
on, and I realized what was different about him.
“You cut your hair!” It was much
shorter, trimmed close to his head now, though a hint of his glorious dark
curls remained on top. It was a good look on him. A little more mature. I
wished he’d take his hat off again.
He shrugged. “It was getting really
long. Thought I’d get it cut before the tour.”
“I like it. Although I loved your
hair when it was long, too.”
“You did?” Surprise flickered across
his face. After years of video chatting I knew his expressions well.
“Of course. You have gorgeous hair.”
Oops, I’d probably said too much, but oh well. It was the truth.
Miguel returned and clasped us each
on the arm. “All ready for your panel? Let’s head on up.”
I reluctantly tore my gaze from
Hector and smiled at Miguel. “Ready.”
Miguel led us out the exhibit hall and
up an escalator to the second floor of the convention center. He gave us a
quick run-down of our schedule for the next four days and I nodded and asked
him a few questions. Hector didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t much of a small
talker. He was the kind of guy who didn’t waste words or speak just to fill
silence, and when he did speak up it was honest and direct. I’d always liked
that about him.
“This way,” Miguel said, leading us
past different meeting rooms with long lines outside them, composed of hundreds
of people sitting along the walls and chatting with each other, playing on
their phones, or reading comics. Hector and I walked close behind him through a
surging crowd that moved like a herd of sheep, mindlessly pushing forward in either
direction. It was all we could do not to get lost in it, and I clutched my Comic-Con
badge tightly, worried it would fall off in the commotion.
A group of Assassin’s Creed
cosplayers stopped to pose for a photo and Hector had to dodge them. He bumped
against my side, making me jump. “Nervous?” he asked.
“A little.” I forced myself to let go
of my badge. “I’ve never done a panel or anything like this before. I’m worried
I’ll say something stupid or just freeze up entirely.”
“Nah. Won’t happen. You’ll do great.”
We were forced to stop and wait while
the Comic-Con volunteers ushered a massive line into Ballroom 20, blocking our
path. “Are you nervous?” I asked, as the stream of people rushed past us.
He gave a little shrug. “Not really.”
“No, you never seem to get nervous.
Not even when you’re on stage in front of hundreds of people, or on TV for the
entire country to see.”
“I get nervous. Just not on
stage. Maybe if I was up front I’d get nervous, but when I’m in the back, behind
my drums, I just…zone out. My hands know what to do and as long as I shut my
mind off I’m fine. Same with this kind of stuff. The less I worry about it the
better. That might work for you, too.”
“Maybe.” The volunteers capped off
the line and let us pass, and we chased after Miguel down the long hall. “So
when do you get nervous?”
Hector glanced over at me. His mouth
opened, but then he looked away and scowled.
“Oh no,” I said, punching him lightly
on the arm. “Now you have to tell me.”
His eyes dropped to the spot I’d
touched him, still frowning. “I was nervous today, but not because of the
panel.” He raised those dark eyes to meet mine again. “Because I was meeting
you.”
“Really?” Hearing that made me feel a
lot better. All those butterflies in my stomach vanished. “I was nervous, too.”
“Yeah?”
I laughed. “Well, you are a famous rock star now.”
“Not true. And you knew me long
before all that.”
I nudged him with my shoulder. “Then
I guess neither of us had anything to be nervous about.”
He gave me a rare smile, making him
even more handsome. “No. I guess not.”
