“No.”Yes.
He smirks. “Come on, let’s get you on the plane so you can finish your REM cycle.”
Katherine and Aiden are at the gate already when we arrive, and the rest of the Friends and a few other staff trickle in soon after. No one is especially talkative, save for when a couple of different people come up and ask for pictures. Pictures! At the airport! And not just with the standard Friends of Flavor chefs, as I first assume they will. They want to talk to and pose with Benny and me, too.
I haven’t been in this position since that random lady on the sidewalk, but none of the others seem surprised one bit. They look totally at ease with these “fans,” almost like they expectedthis.
Because they did, I realize. Because we’re on our way to a conference meant for fans of UltiMedia franchises like ours, where there will be actual, formal meet and greets.
Why didn’t anyone tell me to dress up a little? I’m the only one of the Friends of Flavor crew who looks sloppy—as I alwaysdo while flying—in leggings, an oversize T-shirt, and worn-in tennis shoes, my hair thrown up in a messy bun and not a spot of makeup on my face. I am the basic white girl ruining all the cute shots.
But I do my best to make up for it with my sparkling personality, for which I have to dig deep before nine a.m. Soon it’s time to board and I can relax again, settling in my seat next to Benny and then spending most of the couple of hours to L.A. sleeping with my head resting on his shoulder.
We caravan to the hotel, which is just a few minutes’ walk from the convention center. Aiden checks us in, then passes out room keys and UltiCon badges.
When we’re released, I am happy to flop onto my king-size bed in my very own room and stare at the ceiling for a while. I don’t much know what to expect from the next few days. How many people are going to be here, and of those, how many care anything about me? Since I mostly avoid the comments—that one moment of weakness excepted—I don’t know what the reactions toAmateur Hour,or to me specifically, are, beyond what Benny and Aiden and others at work have told me in passing. It worries me a tad, finding out for myself, coming face to face with real viewers.
But there’s no backing out now, so I shower and dress in some of the better clothes I brought and slip my feet into a pair of wedges. I fix my hair so it falls in loose waves and do my makeup enough that I’ll look like a living human in pictures.
Before I know it, it’s time to head to my first-ever meet and greet. I’m putting the lanyard with my badge over my head when there’s a knock on the door. I see Benny through the peephole and open it.
“Hey, you.” I smile, still pulling strands of hair out from under the lanyard as I let him in.
“Wow.” He eyes me from head to toe and back up again. “You look way too good to be with a scrub like me.”
I laugh, patting the light stubble on his cheek. He’s in one of his typical tight T-shirts and jeans, plus, of course…
“You could lose the hat, you know. Show off that beautiful mane of yours to the public.”
He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he pats his backward cap. “It’s my signature look—people will be expecting the hat.”
“You’re nothing if not a man of the people.”
We stand there smiling like the smitten fools we are for a few moments.
“You’re tall,” Benny says, nodding down at my shoes, which, now that I think about it, do put me a few inches over him.
“Too tall?” I ask self-consciously before I can stop myself.
People are weird about height. It seems to me like the last nonnegotiable, appearance-related deal breaker that a ton of folks can’t get past—the insecurity they feel about their height, whether they’re taller or shorter.
Kinda messed up, when you think about it. Which, as a tallish girl, I often do.
“What? No,” Benny says, waving away the suggestion. “You look amazing in those. I’m enjoying the view from down here.”
I laugh, but I could also melt clear through the floor and the six below it, down to the lobby. The concierge would have to sweep me off his desk. It’d be real gross.
Instead, I put my hands on Benny’s shoulders and lean in to kiss him. His hands come around my waist and pull me closer, and oh my stars, are we sure we need to be present at this meet and greet? Because I could stick around here for another while.
Benny breaks it off, though, pushing my hips back to set me away from him.
“Remind me again why we aren’t doing that twenty-four hours a day?” he says breathlessly, his eyes roaming over my body even as he pulls his hands back in fists as if to keep them from doing the same.
“Well, sleep, for one thing,” I answer.
“Who needs it?” His eyes meet mine again and he grins, those dimples making my knees weak. “But I guess we should go meet everyone else before they think the two teenagers have been up here doing unspeakable things to each other from the moment they gave us rooms in a hotel.”
I feel the blush in my cheeks and shove him lightly, then take his hand and pull him out the door behind me. But not before stealing one more quick kiss.
