“Dinosaurs made me want to be someone interesting enough to survive the movie.” His eyes lifted to hers, an unexpected sincerity behind the joke. “Someone worth rooting for.”
Something real threaded through his words—something that made Emma’s heart pinch. It was far too easy to imagine the bright-eyed, dark-haired boy who wanted to be a hero, only to grow up identifying himself with the villains.
“Alright, your turn,” he said. “First book you ever really loved.”
She gave him a look. “You’re asking a writer that? Dangerous territory. You do realize I could monologue for hours.”
“Oh, trust me. I’ve heard worse. Every BAFTA winner thinks their own voice is a gift to mankind.” His mouth curved. “Let me guess. Harry Potter?”
Her brows arched. “That predictable, huh?”
“Well, your book’s full of magic—literal and metaphorical. Not exactly a stretch.”
“Fair,” she said. “They were the first books I remember staying up all night to read. But they also taught me to keep my story worlds separate from my real one.”
“How so?”
Another story she never told anyone. Why did everything seem to slip out around him?
“I learned to read early. By first grade, I was already onGoblet of Fire. And when a girl asked who my best friend was, I made the mistake of saying Harry, Ron, and Hermione.”
He winced. “Oh, no.”
“Yeah. That did not go over well. It took a while before anyone let me forget it.”
“Kids can be little shits,” he said softly.
She laughed. “They really can. Even though it’s generally frowned upon to say it out loud.”
“So, what happened?”
“The meanest one moved to South Dakota. By second grade, the rest had forgotten. But I hadn’t. I learned to...camouflage, I guess. To actnormal. Engage, participate, talk about the right things. The books and stories became my little secret.”
Darren’s voice dropped. “I hate that you had to go through that.”
The quiet sincerity threw her. “Don’t. I turned out fine. Just...selectively weird.”
A warm, amused sound escaped him and something in her chest loosened.
She cleared her throat. “Alright. Guilty pleasure movie. Go.”
Darren’s answer came out like a reflex. “Mean Girls.”
He froze as soon as the words left him, eyes widening. “Oh, god. That was a terrible segue after what you just told me.”
“It’s fine,” she chuckled. “Are you serious, though?”
“Dead serious.” He playfully pointed a finger at her. “Don’t you dare hold that against me. I love the dialogue, not the bullies. I could do the entire scene where Cady meets ‘The Plastics’ in my sleep.”
Emma shook her head, incredulous. “So the man who once compared his bicycle to a velociraptor is a closetMean Girlsdevotee?”
“Not closet. Very public.” He shrugged, unrepentant. “On Wednesdays, I wear pink.”
“Oh, I’m holding you to that now.”
He looked at her, eyes bright. “So what’s yours?”
For a moment, she considered making something up. Then she didn’t. “Speed.”
