She stopped in front of my table, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “God,” she said, voice low enough to make me lean in, “this is kind of sad.”
Stupidly, idiotically,moronically, I couldn’t find my voice. My eyes moved of their own accord until I saw my face… well, my twenty-year-old face, plastered across her chest.
Fuck.
I had never been turned on by myownface before, but the way it stretched across her… It was doing something to me.
My throat went dry, the quiet hum of the convention fading behind the sudden pounding in my chest.
Her eyes locked on mine, daring me to say something — anything. But all I could think about was how absurd it was to be undone by a reflection, by the ghost of who I used to be, stretched —tight— across her body like some cruel joke.
And yet, at that moment, I didn’t want the joke to end.
“You there?” She asked, her head tilting as her eyes narrowed. She had two cups in her hands, one arm extended out to me. “Want some shitty convention center coffee?”
I nodded, tongue still thick in my mouth as I took the drink. “Want to sit?” I offered once I could speak, gesturing at the chair next to me.
“Oh, no thanks. I’m hoping I can grab an autograph from the voice of Toothy over there before he goes to lunch.” When I met her eyes again, a wide grin stretched across her face, a sparkle in her eyes that just might be addictive, if one let it.
She stepped around the table, looking all too at home in the folding chair next to me. “Have you been busy today?”
I shook my head, still trying to wrap my head around this girl — woman — sitting next to me. “What are you doing here?”
Her grin didn’t disappear. “I had the day off, had some free time, thought I’d cast a wide net at my local comic con and see what sort of trouble I could get into.” She winked, taking a sip of her coffee. “And then, I saw your pitiful table and felt bad… enter stale coffee.”
Juniper laughed at her own joke — which really only tugged harder on my heart — before snatching one of my old headshots from in front of us. “How much for this?”
“Just take it,” I mumbled — waving a hand in embarrassment. “My poor mom has at least five boxes of them.”
“Oh my god, is AnselfuckingBarlowe a mama’s boy?” She giggled, her freckles scrunched together on top of her nose.
I pulled my hand through my hair, leaning back in my chair again as my eyes rolled.
“What’s the worst fan interaction you’ve had today?”
“Might be this one.”
She laughed, and I’d heard the sound before — but this one… this was different. It wasn’t drunken and forced. It was almost melodic…
Get your head out of your ass, Barlowe.
“Oh, I’m not a fan.” Juniper flipped her hair over her shoulder, doing her best imitation of the blonde at the table near us.
Pointedly, my eyes darted to her shirt, wheremy facewas still stretched across her tits. “Beg to differ, June.”
“Oh, this old thing?” I didn’t miss how her cheeks flushed as she tugged on the bottom of it. “Had to make a statement. Thought maybe I could get in a couple of fights today.”
“Did you buy a ticket hoping to get into a fight?”
She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “Since you mentioned it… I wouldn’t be against it. Someone’s got to stand up for poor Eryk Moonstrider.”
I turned fully in my chair to face her. “And that’s you?”
“Oh, Ansel Barlowe, that’salwaysbeen me. Your movies were my favorite ofalltheBattle for the Cosmosseries.”
“Now you’re just lying.” But my lips tugged upwards.
“Would I own a shirt of you inred leather pantsif I were lying?”
