Geekerella

He looks back a heartbeat too late, and she’s already gone.

I hold on to the scene, looking at the last place I saw her, the last place I’ll ever see her, and then—

“Cut!” yells the AD. “And that’s a wrap!”

Euci—I mean Calvin—pumps his fist into the air as the crew cheers so loud it rumbles the makeshift set. I lean back against the captain’s command module and drop my head back, closing my eyes. I stand amid the triumphant hoots from the crew, the congratulations from the other actors, relishing it all.

You only get one shot, I remind myself, trying to hold on to as much of Carmindor as I can. Just for a little longer.

“You sure had the spirit,” comes Jess’s sweet honey-and-salt voice. She hops back onto the set and punches me in the shoulder. “You even looked torn when you said ah’blena. Tell me, were you thinking about not seeing me every day anymore or the absolute sadness that we didn’t make out more?”

I slide on a grin, because she doesn’t need to know. “Maybe a little of both.”

“My word, are you making jokes, Darien?” She puts her hand on her chest, aghast. “What a pity! Maybe we could’ve dated for twenty-four days instead of twenty-three.”

“You couldn’t handle one more day of me,” I reply as she leans against the captain’s command module with me. We stare out at the set, at the crew beginning to wrap up the wires, at the secondary unit getting notes on what they still need to film. Our parts are done, for the most part. Our parts are done in this building, at least. After tonight, we’ll leave this lot and never look back.

She knocks her shoulder against mine. “So how does it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“To be Darien again?”

I tilt my head. “I’m not sure yet. I’d been waiting to feel like Carmindor for so long—waiting for it all to just sort of click—that I didn’t realize I’ve been him all along.”

“Maybe you were Carmindor in another life,” she teases.

“Maybe. But right now I’d rather be Darien.”

“Yeah?”

I nod. “Because Darien is not on a diet.” Then I lean into her and whisper, “Baaa­accccc­cccooo­ooon.”

She laughs and shoves off the control module, gliding off set. Calvin follows her, giving me a congratulatory slap on the shoulder that almost makes me stumble. Who knows. Maybe now that we’re not filming, we’re bros.

The PAs are passing out champagne as I walk off set; one of them hands me a glass on her rotation around the room. Amon, grinning ear to ear, shushes the crowd and does his little director speech. I listen half-heartedly to most of it, my attention roaming across everyone, familiar and not, the crew, the actors, the assistants, the interns.

Amon turns to me, his glass raised. “And most importantly, to our Carmindor, the infallible genius boy that he is. Long live the Federation Prince! Here’s to the possibility of a sequel!”

At that, I find Jess in the crowd and see that her face is impassive, like stone. But then she raises her cup, slowly, and locks eyes with me. Told you, she mouths and winks.

“Look to the stars!” He begins to chant.

Everyone raises their glasses. “Aim!” they cry.

I swallow, raising my glass. “Ignite!” I add, and we cheer to the twenty-three days of hell and then down our champagne.

Once Donna rubs the makeup off me for the last time, I head to wardrobe, where Nicky is busily hanging all the costumes, treating them as delicately as he did the first day on set.

“Darien! You were perfect.” Nicky shuffles up to begin unbuttoning my jacket, but I hold up my hands.

“Actually…” I scratch the back of my neck. “I know this is weird, but I was wondering…”

“If you could have it,” he fills in. He stops unbuttoning and folds his arms. “You know, just because you wear it, it’s not yours.”

“I know.” My cheeks get hot. “I mean, I heard George Clooney got to keep his Batnipple suit, and Ryan Reynolds got to keep his Deadpool…look, there’s just this event coming up tomorrow, and I don’t have anything to wear. So I guess I was sort of hoping you could let me borrow it at least?”

“And never return it?” Nicky looks stricken. I half-shrug, half-nod, and Nicky rolls his eyes to the ceiling with a sigh.

“I’m not a part of this criminal act at all.” He flaps his hands at me to go change. “I must’ve misplaced your costume. Oh woe is me!” And with a groan, he throws his arm over his eyes in a fake swoon.

I thank him—quietly—and promise to get it back to him in a week.

Gail and Lonny find me as I’m tugging on my shirt. I can’t wait until my clothes start fitting normal again and aren’t uncomfortably tight around the chest. I can’t wait to go back to all the familiar comics T-shirts that don’t fit me at this bulked-out size.

“Well?” Gail says. “How is it? How do you feel?”

“I can eat bacon again!” I yell, throwing up a fist. “All the bacon! Bacon or bust!”

“Yes!” Gail cheers. “After your promo shoots, you absolutely can!”

My cries of glee turn into an actual sob. I quickly shove my face into my arm. Thank god it’s just Gail.

She pats me on the shoulder. “I know,” she says. “But you’ll get to have it soon, and then—”

“No.” I swallow and shake my head, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “It’s not the bacon.” I mean, it is but it’s also not. I’m overcome right now with everything. These last few months leading up to the shoot, the mounting pressure, the twenty-three days of high stress and rabbit food and Elle. All of it. “Why does it have to be so hard?”

“Getting a six pack?”

I give her a feeble smile. “I am more than my body, thank you.”

Gail squeezes my shoulder and even though she’s only a few years older than I am, I feel a burst of kidlike affection, like she’s the cool babysitter who lets me stay up late when Mark’s not around.

“No, I know what you mean,” she says. “You’ve worked hard, Darien. You’ve worked so hard.” She looks at Lonny as if she expects him to add something.

Weirdly, he does. “You have, boss,” he says. “Now let’s get moving.”

Five minutes later I’m out the trailer, costume rolled up in my duffel and headed home. I follow Gail and Lonny out of the lot, where an SUV is parked. Jess rolls down the front passenger window.

“Dare, you coming?” she shouts. “We’re partying!”

“We?” I ask.

The window behind her rolls down. It’s Calvin, and for once he doesn’t look angry at me. “Come on, Carmindor. Don’t wuss out on us now.”

Maybe it’s just the exhaustion-induced adrenaline rush, or maybe it’s the thrill of finally having done something, but whatever it is, it’s making me want to celebrate. But I can’t just go anywhere. I glance at Gail and Lonny, my de facto parents. Gail looks instantly worried, but Lonny grabs her shoulder and whispers in her ear.

“Okay,” she says. “We’ll cover for you. Just this once.”

I pump my fist into the air. “Yes!” I kiss her on the cheek. “I love you, Gee.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Dare!” Jess shouts again. “We won’t wait forever!”

“Seriously,” Calvin says. “Put on your big boy pants and hurry up.”

“But remember”—Gail digs into my duffel for a plain black hat and hands it to me—“if you show up on so much as a Snapchat tonight—”

“I know, I know. Mark will kill me.” I pull my hat low over my brow. “I’ll be fine, Gee. You worry too m—”

A ringtone cuts between our conversation like a knife. Gail and I exchange a look, but when she shrugs, saying it isn’t hers, I dig into my hoodie pocket. All of my phone numbers have assigned ringtones, but this one is generic. The only person whom I never assigned a tone to is—

Elle, the caller ID reads.

My heart jumps into my throat.

“C’mon, Your Highness!” Calvin shouts. “Celebration time!”

She’s probably not actually calling me. It’s probably a butt dial or something.

“You gonna answer that?” Gail asks. “Should I?”

It rings for the third time. Fourth.

“C’mooooon,” Jess echoes Calvin. “You’re only young once, Carmindor!”

I hold up a finger and slide my phone unlocked.

“Hello?”

I wait one second. Two. Three. But there’s no one there. And then the line goes dead.

“Huh.” I pull the phone from my ear. CALL ENDING.

“Nothing?” Gail asks.

“I guess not.” I hide my disappointment with a cough. “Well, I promise I won’t get into much trouble.”

“Like I haven’t heard that before.” Gail looks unconvinced, still staring at my phone. I tighten my grip on it and instantly feel stupid. Elle obviously doesn’t want to talk right now. Besides, she’ll be there tomorrow. And tonight’s the only tonight I’m going to get.