The look Leah gave her was deadly serious. “It’s Comic-Con, Emma. You can’t let anything surprise you. Last year, a Totoro and a Kylo Ren asked if I was interested in a threesome.”
Emma’s brows shot up. The car rolled on in silence for a few moments before Leah noticed, answering with a vigorous eye roll.
“No, obviously I didn’t.” Then, she muttered, “The Totoro smelled funny.”
“I’ll keep my nose out for a better-smelling one,” Emma said, grinning brightly. “Now that I know what you’re into.”
Leah snapped her fingers, sharp as a Catholic nun. “Focus, Whitehart. After the cosplay contest, we head back, freshen up, and then it’s the rooftop thing I told you about. That’s it. Should be a nice and easy first day. Warm-up before tomorrow, when the real madness starts.”
Right. The brief lightness drained out of her. Clearly, she and Leah had different definitions of “nice and easy,” but they agreed on one thing: tomorrow was going to be bigger.
“You mean the panel,” she said, trying for a neutral tone.
“I do indeed.” Leah leaned toward the window as the car turned a corner. “We’ll prep for that later. You’re sure you don’t want me to grab you something else to wear?”
Emma blinked at the pivot. Leah had already side-eyed her outfit back at the hotel, but there’d been no time to argue. She’d gone with classic black pants and a navy silk blouse. Safe. Comfortable. The color of the blouse set off her blonde hair in a way she actually liked.
“If you’re talking about the blue-slash-black combo,” Emma said, “apparently it’s no longer—”
“No, honey,” Leah cut in dryly. “Not your daring color palette. I mean the fact that this is your fun job, not HR orientation day.”
Emma glared at her. “This is how I dress, Leah.”
“Correction. This is howcontrollerEmma dresses. You just haven’t questioned it yet.”
“If this is your pitch for the stiletto club, my feet are officially uninterested.”
Leah gave her a look. “Cute.” Then her expression softened. “But seriously, I just want people to see the Emma I see when you let your guard down. Not the one hiding behind safe blouses and everyone else’s expectations.”
Her gaze lingered for a moment, then she turned back to the window. Only the low rumble of the car filled the silence.
Emma shifted in her seat.
She’d spent years meeting deadlines and over-delivering, first at work, now in her writing career. It had become second nature, indistinguishable from who she was. It made her feel good. Accomplished.
So how was she supposed to tell the difference between that...and what she actually wanted?
The car slowed, the driver glancing at them in the rearview mirror. “Can’t take you any further. The rest of Harbor Drive is closed off for the Con.”
Outside the window, the crowd had thickened, sunlight flashing off cosplay armor and raised phone screens.
“Well then,” Leah said, her mouth curving into a wicked smile. “Showtime, darling.”
Chapter 5
San Diego Comic-Con—home to awkward celebrity encounters
and strategically placed plants.
Emma nearly missed the curb as she stepped out of the car. The sheer scale of it hit her all at once—loud, bright, impossible to take in.
The convention center stretched out endlessly, glass panels folding over the building like a breaking wave. Palm trees swayed lazily above the crowds streaming toward the entrances.
An elderly couple shuffled past arm in arm—the man in a Batman cap, the woman sporting a Wonder Woman tiara—both beaming with joy. Emma managed a small smile, wishing she could borrow even a sliver of their ease.
Across the street, even the Gaslamp Quarter had transformed—entire facades wrapped in towering movie posters. Voices rose and overlapped around her in a cheerful, chaotic swell.
It should have been exhilarating.
