Emma watched curiously as they drove in under a roofed area of the convention center, with a sign that read “Loading Docks 1-30.”
“What on earth are you up to?” she asked, shooting a suspicious look at Darren.
He was practically glowing, smug as ever. “You’ll see.”
They rolled past a couple of loading docks before a familiar figure came into view—a honey-blonde girl in a bright purple dress standing on one of the platforms. It was the same girl who had interrupted them on the rooftop, now waiting with a burly security guard behind her.
The car rolled to a stop. Darren climbed out first, then offered his hand to Emma as she slid down from the seat. The air smelled faintly of asphalt and frying food from somewhere nearby as they climbed the steep metal stairs up to the platform.
“Hi, Sienna,” Darren said.
“Perfect timing,” she answered, her voice brisk and efficient. “We’re cleared. Let’s move. Hi, Emma.” She nodded to the guard, who buzzed open the gray door beside the dock and let them inside.
They turned right in the quiet concrete corridor. Industrial pipes traced the ceiling, air vents humming overhead. Sienna set a clipped pace, her dress swishing over her sneakers. Emma and Darren followed close behind. Their footsteps echoed in the enclosed space, no trace of the exhibit floor frenzy leaking in from the walls.
Emma’s pulse picked up with each step, anticipation coiling through her. It felt like infiltrating a compound in an action movie.
“Did you talk to Max?” Darren asked, looking at Sienna.
“I did,” she said, without breaking stride. “He still thinks you’re coming out on top of all this. Emma’s the one taking heat. No offense, love,” she added, blonde ponytail whipping as she glanced back.
“You didn’t tell him about this, though, right?” Darren pressed.
Sienna snorted. “Of course not. He’d be far too tempted to tip someone off.”
They reached a narrow break room tucked between a machine room and a janitor’s closet. Sandwiches and bottled water waited on a rickety table. On the floor beside it sat a sleek black duffel bag.
“Lunch is here,” Sienna said. “And...that other thing you asked for.” Her eyes flicked to Darren with a trace of wryness.
Emma looked at the duffel. “What other thing?”
“Eat first,” Darren said, already peeling open a sandwich wrapper like this was a completely normal lunch break for him. Emma perched on the edge of the table and tore into hers as well, hunger beating out curiosity. Sienna left them, muttering something about dealing with Max.
They finished quickly, brushing crumbs from their fingers. Darren crouched by the duffel and unzipped it. A shimmer of desert-sand fabric and black tubing came into view as he lifted something out. He set it on the table with a soft thunk.
Emma stared at it, baffled. “Is that what I think it is?”
Darren tilted his head. “That depends. What do you think it is?”
She let her hand trail over the smooth fabric, recognizing the colors, the unmistakable aesthetic. She looked up at him. “I think it’s a stillsuit fromDune.”
“Correction,” Darren said, eyes lighting up as he reached into the bag and took out a matching set. “It’stwostillsuits fromDune.”
The pure delight on his face made her laugh out loud. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. “Darren Cole, sci-fi nerd,” she said. “Who would’ve thought?”
“Tell me it isn’t perfect.” He leaned in. “No one will recognize us. And I’ll still get to see those blue eyes of yours.”
The words hit lower than they should have. She hid her reaction by turning her attention to the mask, tracing a finger along the smooth edge of the visor. It was the kind that covered mouth and nose but left the eyes bare. The oversized hood would hide their hair and shadow their faces.
“Are you suggesting we actually go out in public wearing these?” She had a hard time keeping the smile out of her voice. His excitement was contagious.
“It’s Comic-Con, Emma,” he said, positively beaming. “We’re going cosplaying.”
She shook her head, disbelief tugging at her mouth. This was objectively a terrible idea. If anyone recognized them, it would hit the Internet like a freight train, and Leah would probably have an aneurysm.
But Darren was already holding the costume out to her with that disarming, boyish grin. “Come on. Let’s see how good we look as Fremen.”
Well. She’d wanted reckless. Dressing up as literal rebels and hiding in plain sight surely qualified. And honestly, resisting Darren’s unfiltered joy felt like trying to resist gravity.
