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They each buy a paperback and linger for a few minutes while I sign them, asking questions about the world and the characters before disappearing back into the crowd clutching their copies against their chests.

Later, another girl dressed as a gothic elf returns with coffee and bottles of water, handing one of each to Ember and me. “You’ve not moved from these tables in hours,” she says firmly. “Hydrate.”

I could honestly cry, people here are so kind.

By mid-afternoon my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I’ve sold a decent number of books, enough to probably break even, but more than that, I’ve talked, I’ve laughed, and I’ve actually connected with people—which is strange for me, unfamiliar even. There’s an ease here that I’ve never experienced anywhere before, a sense of belonging, like I can just be myself without fear of judgement in this space. For the first time ever I feel completely comfortable.

Ember is absolutely thriving beside me, people adore her horror props. Every time I glance over, someone’s crowding her table asking questions while she enthusiastically explains moulding techniques and her inspiration, which is horror movies and haunted houses, obviously.

“You’re doing amazing, your table is starting to look bare in places,” I tell her later, while we quickly inhale a bag of shared chips during a quiet moment.

“It’s been insane,” she replies. “I can’t believe how much people love my work.”

She’s swamped by a fresh wave of customers before I can answer, so I just smile at her and promise to save some chips as she dives back into another explanation of her techniques. I let out a quiet laugh and slip my phone out while she’s still talking. The photos from this morning fill the screen. Again. Jax grinning with his arm around me. Then in the next one laughing so hard his entire face crinkles in the most adorable way.

“You are looking at those pictures again,” Ember says. Teasing me as she picks up the chips I left for her.

I immediately lock my screen. “I am not.”

“Were too.”

Heat creeps up my neck, and I can practically feel my face betraying me. “Is it warm in here?” I ask. Trying to casually play it off by fanning myself with a bookmark.

She stares at me for one long second before gasping dramatically. “I knew it.”

“Do not start.”

“You fancy him.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

I busy myself reorganising books while she grins like a maniac.

“He’s handsome,” she says casually. “Funny. Kind. Looks at you like you invented happiness.”

I nearly choke on air. “He does not.”

She fixes me with a sceptical stare that cuts right through my denial. Annoyingly, I can’t even argue properly as she’s right. Which is terrifying, because I barely know him. And yet, even with all the uncertainty, I can’t shake the feeling that this is exactly what I want.

“What are you so worried about?” she asks gently.

“Oh, I dunno, that he’s him…” I shrug. “Famous, attractive, rich, surrounded by supermodels and I’m well… Me.” I say gesturing vaguely at myself, to encompass the ordinariness of how I look, and who I am.

“Don’t do that,” she chides. “Do not put yourself down and sabotage yourself. As Lennie would say, you don’t get to decide how others see you or how they feel about you.” She smiles, softening her tone. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“What do you mean?”

She stares at me for a moment before counting points of on her fingers. “You’re beautiful, kind, funny, honest, talented.” I roll my eyes and she hits me playfully. “I’m serious, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

“Ditto.” I point back.

“Fair.” She laughs. “Just don’t write yourself off Bri. Self-protection is good to a certain extent, as is fear. But when they stop you from really living, from letting love in, they become prisons, and I think you’ve served enough time in yours,” she says softly, squeezing my arm gently.

“Anyway, I’ll stop now, I know you hate getting unsolicited advice, but think about it ok. And moving on, have you been online yet? I sent you a friend request.”

“Um, no. I haven’t really had time, I’ll do it now though,” I say, reaching for my phone.