A tall, dark-haired man stood ahead with his back to her, handlers orbiting him like planets around a sun. Emma’s pulse spiked instantly, heat and ice flooding her veins. For one suspended second, the world seemed to narrow to the line of his shoulders, the tilt of his head.
Darren Cole.
Alive, in the flesh, rightthere.
And she would have to walk straight past him.
She swallowed hard, debating what to do. This was nothing like the airport fantasy. No slow motion, no subtly sensual score in the background. Just fluorescent lights, a crowd of handlers, and Emma with suddenly useless legs.
Also, she had imagined meeting him head-on, like that fantasy actor. Now what should she do? Just walk straight by and not acknowledge him? Risk a glance over her shoulder and probably trip over her own feet?
Emma forced a breath. Okay. She could do this. She was an adult woman, perfectly capable of putting one foot in front of the other. Even in the presence of a man she may or may not have written Lucen fan fiction about when plot arcs got too exhausting.
She would just walk past. No big deal.
She took one step. Then another.
Then promptly sidestepped behind a very large ficus, conveniently placed by the side of the corridor.
Perfect plan. He’d move on soon, and she could just...hang out here for a while.
“What are you doing, Whitehart?”
Emma jumped, leaves rustling as she whirled around. “Jesus, Leah!”
Leah stared. “Why are you standing behind the ficus?”
Emma smoothed her blouse, trying to regain some dignity while her pulse settled back to somewhere in the human range.
“I’m just...I’m considering getting one of these for my apartment,” she said, patting a leaf.
Leah’s gaze flicked past her, then back, suspicion sharpening on her face. “Are you hiding from Keanu Reeves?”
“I’m not—wait,what?”
She stuck her head out from behind the plant. The man had shifted, face half in view.
Older than Darren. More rugged.
Definitely Keanu Reeves.
Leah’s brows raised. “Another celebrity crush I should know about?”
Emma scowled, stepping out from her hiding place. “What do you mean,another?”
“You’re weird,” Leah said, flicking a leaf out of Emma’s hair. “Brilliant, but weird. Now move. We’re late for your first interview.”
Chapter 6
Expectations: professional composure.
Reality: spiraling in a convention bathroom.
They went back to the press room, Leah guiding Emma into a corner with a ring light and two oversized BuzzFeed-branded beanbags. A girl barely out of high school grabbed Emma’s hand, beaming like they were best friends. Emma shot Leah a helpless look over her shoulder.
“Dial down your brain a bit and relax. You’ll be fine,” Leah mouthed back, flashing an exaggerated smile and a thumbs-up.
The next fifteen minutes blurred into a dizzying cascade of questions about Lucen’s spirit animal (black panther), Catlyn’s favorite Beyoncé song (“Survivor”), and—just when Emma thought she’d dodged the worst—whether it was true that Lucen was actually based on Darren Cole. Emma parried with a light laugh and one of her well-practiced, strategically vague answers.
