‘I think they might be gone,’ I murmur.
He instantly turns to look behind him and takes a step away from me, his body starting to protrude from our hiding nook. I hate myself for the way I mourn the feeling of his body against mine.
‘You sure?’ he replies, his voice still uneven.
‘Yeah, I can’t see them.’
He double checks this, his face an unreadable mask.
‘I guess we’re good to go,’ he says, stepping further out slowly.
My laugh comes out a little too breathy. ‘Well, that worked. Good thinking!’ I say, lightly tapping his arm with an unnatural joviality.
‘Hopefully they’re gone for good,’ he mutters, glaring down the path.
I clear my throat, keen to move conversation along and not ruminate on whateverthatjust was. ‘I guess some people just don’t care for sportsmanship. They want the winnings because they think they deserve it more, or something. The dark side of fandoms, I suppose,’ I say mildly, as we begin retracing our steps down the path at a slow pace.
‘I have heard fandoms can get competitive.’
‘Yeah. There’s normally at least a few people that give every fandom a bad name.’
‘You wouldn’t say you’re competitive? I seem to remember you saying you loved this band more than anyone?’ he asks with a knowing smirk.
‘I–’ I pause mid-step. ‘No, I didn’t? Did I?’
‘You sure did. Not to mention you quizzing me to check if I was a real fan? Remember that?’ he says, his smile growing. I blink at him and let him lead me around a clump of people.
‘I – I didn’tquizyou – I was just kidding around…’
‘I’m not sure you were though,’ he teases.
I suddenly feel the need to bite back. ‘I’m not a cheater though,’ I counter. ‘Even if I think I deserve to win in some capacity, at least I’m doing it honestly.’
‘True. But doesn’t every fan who’s taking parthonestlydeserve to win? Just as much as you?’ He raises his perfect brows. I glower.
No,a terrible little part of me wants to scream.I need this more than anybody.
I know I can’t say it out loud, but I can’t ignore that tiny voice thatdoesbelieve I deserve this prize. That surely no one could possibly find it more significant than me. The revelation makes me feel a bit queasy.
‘Are you accusing me of being a toxic fan, Walker?’ I say in a low voice.
He hesitates, and then glances at me with the tiniest flicker of terror. ‘No, no, I’m not. But that ‘competitive’ part of fandoms you mentioned. I just thought it felt familiar, that’s all.’
‘Yes,’ I say, nearly knocking into him as someone runs past me. ‘Well, you’ve made your point abundantly clear.’
‘I’mnotsaying you’re toxic, Nora. But there is maybe an air of competitiveness that you share with some… fans.’
‘Right.’
The fact I can see that Elliot isn’t totally wrong in this case is making my head spin. I feel mildly mortified by the knowledgethat I could be ‘that’ kind of fan. Theentitledfan who believes that because of their unique dedication or connection to the art, they’ve earned or deserve some kind of reward.
Elliot must somehow see my mind going round in circles.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–’
‘No, it’s okay,’ I say, my voice softer. ‘I see your point.’
As he leads us around another large group, I scan the area to make sure the girls aren’t hovering nearby.
