Page 113 of Fate Fiction

“I’ll take your word for it, have fun doing your famous person thing.”

“I won’t,” he pursed his lips together, then fixated on my face on the screen. “I’m really happy for you, and ridiculously proud of you. I think this is the start of something big, I’m not kidding. And I’m serious, watch the premiere livestream.”

He ended the call as someone was walking into his hotel room.

A few hours later, I settled onto my couch with my phone a few inches from my face. The livestream quality faded in and out, the cluster of actors disappeared into grainy pixels every few minutes.

Evan was easy to pick out in the crowd. Squealing screams killed the livestream audio when he first stepped out of his limo. His deep green velvet suit contrasted the maroon carpet that was backdropped by step-and-repeat banners emblazoned with logos for the show, streaming network, and countless sponsors. A pop up in the corner of the stream reminded me that this entire event was inexplicably sponsored by a brand of coconut water. “For all of life’s quests,” the tagline said with a flourish, as if knights in a fantasy kingdom would drink mango flavored coconut water out of a carton.

On the red carpet, Evan’s jaw was tight, his stance was tense. He looked unrecognizable compared to the person I’d been talking to a few hours earlier. This was the Evan McLeod I’d been expecting to meet those months ago. Quietly intense, a strong, silent presence. When he posed for photographers his smile was stiff and didn’t reach his eyes.

Who are you?

The stream cut between the actors walking the carpet and short interviews with a popular social media personality who went viral a few years ago for a video clip of her freaking out over a prior season’s finale. Her freakout was so intense she hopped up onto her coffee table and it broke beneath her. She exploded into fame, getting brand deals, hosting opportunities, and guest spots on TV shows. She had a pop culture podcast and had read a few snippets of my fanfics on it, another thing I could add to my imaginary resume in that universe.

“And if it isn’t Mr. Sir Erwyn himself!” she said in an exaggerated British accent when he stepped up to her microphone. “Looking fine as hell in the Rospice clan colors. We love a theme dressing moment.”

“Just when I thought my time in the clan colors was exclusive to filming episodes,” he tightly chuckled. He was friendly enough. I watched him rock back and forth on the balls of his feet, then suddenly stop himself as though a voice was in his ear telling him to knock it off.

I had never paid this much attention to someone’s body language. Especially someone on the opposite coast to me.

“And tell me, what are you wearing tonight?” She gestured up and down his broad body.

He slid a hand into his pants pocket and talked about the designer of the suit and the choices his stylist made to customize it. Rather than a traditional tie, he wore a vintage-style bolo tie of a red enamel rose suspended in clear resin with swirls of dark gray.

A clouded rose.

Or in my case, a Cl0ud3dR0se.

Almost like he watched me connect the dots in real time, he smiled brighter and winked at the camera. There was a pause, his brilliant blue eyes looking directly through the screen at me. Something I’d tell anyone else was fabricated in their heads, but I knew was actually meant for me.

“Wait!” The interviewer squealed, Evan flicked his attention back towards her while I sat in a daze. “Is that a reference to the season one line? ‘For when I look at you, your beauty seems to have placed clouds over every rose, as none of them can compare to you’?” He recited the line in a terrible deep voice, a shoddy impression of Evan.

“Something like that,” he said, looking back at the camera again. “Things tend to come full circle.”

Oh. Oh.

twenty-two

. . .

Sunday, Late February

When the Sword of Thorndown theme song blared from my television, something snapped awake inside me like muscle memory. I’d tried to avoid the season. Aside from the premiere livestream—which I ended the second Evan walked away from the red carpet interview—I had largely avoided all of Thorndown. Until tonight, when I found myself watching the finale more or less against my will.

Evan refused to answer any of my countless questions about the bolo tie or its assumed absurdly overt reference to my former screenname, claiming he didn’t know what I was talking about. He’d say something about his stylist always having outlandish ideas and give me a cheeky wink each time. I’d given up the fight, letting his comment haunt me. Falling asleep to the way his face unwound itself from his terse demeanor into a playful smile when he acknowledged it on the red carpet. I blocked Reddit on my computer and phone so I couldn’t dig through the fan forums and see if anyone else put two and two together. I muted any phrase relating to him or the show on social media.

He and I went back to our casual, easy friendship, and Thorndown faded into obscurity.

Until he texted me a few days ago asking if I wanted to have a Thorndown watch party for the final episode of the season, and somehow the two things felt weirdly intertwined.

I tried to explain that while I appreciated his attempt at accepting my former interest in the show, I wasn’t watching the new season. He insisted I did. Begged, actually. He could not convey how important it was for us to watch this episode together. So here I was, watching last week’s episode in preparation for the new one.

At present, Sir Erwyn was riding his horse through the forest, en route to Edgemore in search of revenge. I tossed another piece of popcorn into my mouth as I watched Sir Erwyn’s hands grip tighter around the horse’s reins. Had the show always been this cheesy? My phone vibrated on the coffee table and I reached over to grab it.

Maybe: Evan:

You better be caught up in forty five minutes.