Page 56 of The Crafting Con

“Am I that obvious?” I groan, covering my face with my hands.

Tyler chomps down on his sandwich with a grin. “You both are,” he says around a mouthful of sourdough. “Pretty sure the two of you are the only ones who haven’t noticed.”

Well.

I guess it’s about time I did something about that.

CHAPTER 22

DECLAN

Three days until OA Con

Everything is prepped and packed to go for Saturday. Two massive, wheeled chests are filled to capacity with pre-cut foam dagger pieces, markers, rulers, utility knives, and enough hot glue to erect a small building. I have decorative envelopes stuffed with take-home patterns, crafting stickers, and business cards directing them to subscribe to my YouTube channel. The final paint touch-ups for Jenni’s staff are drying as we speak. I’m ready. So why does it feel like something’s missing?

Ava’s not here.

There’s no reason for her to come over now. The project is done. Aside from running the actual workshop on Saturday, our partnership is, for all intents and purposes, finished. Our partnership, sure, but we’re friends again. It’s not like we won’t hang out after OA Con.

My brain, at least, can still think rationally.

My body, however, is wound tighter than a saucer swing. I can’t seem to stop fidgeting. If it wasn’t past eight already, I’d take my energy out on my drum kit, but my parents have strict rules about late night playing. As in, don’t even think about it.

I push away from my computer desk, too anxious to properly get into Valheim, and hop onto my bed, rolling over the faded, blue plaid comforter to grab my cell phone off its charging pad. Nothing succeeds in distracting me like a little doomscrolling.

First though, I check to make sure I haven’t missed a text from Ava.

Just in case.

My chest deflates when it’s still on the corny joke I sent during lunch when I didn’t see her in the cafeteria. No response.

That’s fine. Toooootally fine.

I mean, it’s not like we shared a somewhat intense experience yesterday or anything. Or fell asleep in each others’ arms. Okay, that last bit might be a stretch, but still. Why hasn’t she texted me back? And where was she at lunch? Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I saw Tyler in the cafeteria either. Were they together? Are they together? First they’re prom dates. Next thing you know, they’re getting matching tattoos and applying to all the same colleges.

Stop. Spiraling. Girls like guys who are confident, not anxious little hamsters who freak out over literally nothing. Now focus. Doomscrolling. Go.

I force myself to close the text thread and switch to socials instead, starting with my favorite prop makers and going from there. A few of them have links to new build videos that look promising, but I’m not in the mood, so I bookmark them for later and move on to scrolling the OA Con hashtag. The excitement I find there is contagious, and I settle back into my pillows while I let the convention anticipation wash everything else away.

SoraSews: A million hand-stitched sequins later, and Mayura is finally ready for #OACON!

AxelProps: Hot glue roll call: show me those battle wounds. #OACON

TheRealKeanuReeves4Real: NO. SLEEP. TILL #OACON!!!!

GregorTheMighty64: If you don’t see me at #OACON on Friday, I’ve collapsed under a pile of unfinished space armor. Send help. And tacos.

My stomach rumbles at the mention of tacos, and I consider making the trek upstairs and raiding the kitchen for snacks. But then my gaze snags on an all-too-familiar handle, and hunger quickly takes a backseat to dread.

Archer Aimes (verified): Guess who’s filling in for @HannahFoley at #OACON this weekend? I’ll give you a hint: It’s me. ;)

No. No, no, no.

This is not happening.

Archer is going to be at OA Con?

No. Absolutely not.