LENA
I woke up jittery the next morning. Public events had that effect on me.
I always had trouble going to sleep, and I always woke up feeling both excited and nervous. I stared at the gray view of downtown Seattle, pressed against the window, wearing just a heather gray tank top and a pair of nude-colored undies.
A memory of the night before flashed across my mind.
Amos and me laughing, enjoying ourselves, talking about pretty much everything from food to music to comics.
I smiled, realizing I’d had more fun than I wanted to admit. Part of me was still upset I hadn’t gotten to come to Seattle with Alan and Stewart, but Amos’ company wasn’t that bad. Somehow, I had been able to not think about what had happened between us too much.
It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss, I kept repeating to myself…but it had been the best kiss ever.
What if? What if we could be friends? What if we could be more?
Maybe I had to stop avoiding him. I had done it to protect myself, but now a voice inside me told me I had been silly and stubborn.
I started getting ready for the day, and I realized I probably needed to do a quick video for Instagram.
Having a strong social media presence from the very beginning had helped Paz Media tremendously, so Marty required us all to have Twitter and Instagram accounts. He stressed over and over how important it was for us to update and connect with our readers to let them know what we were working on or where they could come see us.
I took a quick shower and started getting ready, applying more makeup than I usually would.
I wore some skinny black jeans with ankle boots and a long, black-and-white Yuri!!! On Ice Katsuki t-shirt. I tousled my hair to give it a bit more volume, and when I was happy with how I looked, I made a quick video.
I wasn’t very good at it. Talking into a camera was awkward, and I wasn’t the best person for the job, but I did what I had to. Like Violet had mentioned, I was much sweeter and nicer on social media than I was in real life. In truth, besides the fact that I hated showing my face more than I felt comfortable with, I enjoyed connecting with my readers.
Most of them were teens, and some of them were going through some hardcore stuff. Some of them had it much worse than I had growing up, and there were those who struggled with their sexuality and felt trapped inside their body. They identified with the heroine of Switch.
Getting emails and messages about how my comic book touched them was what I lived for, because once upon a time, comic books—shojo manga in particular—had done that for me.
They had saved me from myself, saved me from my loneliness.
I checked my phone and grabbed the things I was going to need that day. I made sure I packed a few drawing pens and sharpies, and I opened the door just as Amos was about to knock, coffee cup in hand.
Serendipity at its finest.
“That coffee better be for me,” I said jokingly. He smiled and handed me the cup, the initial look of surprise giving way to a softer look.
“Indeed, it is.”
“You’re the best,” I said in a flirty tone I rarely used. He seemed equally taken aback by my reaction.
He was wearing a different tee this morning. It was a soft heather gray with a loose fit, and it looked good on him. I sighed nervously, wishing I could stop myself from looking at him so much.
“Do you have everything you need?”
I took a sip of the coffee and nodded. “I do. Let’s go.”
AMOS
I enjoyed comic-cons as a reader and a fan.
As an artist, however, part of me hated it.
It made me feel vulnerable and exposed. I hated the beginning of it, when people start rushing in and it felt like a Black Friday of sorts.
Furthermore, lately people seemed more interested in meeting TV and movie stars in exchange for a hefty fee.
That said, at some point during the day of any event, I tended to forget about the things I didn’t like and remembered what I loved about it.
Talking about your work or your art is never easy, and I hated that I was there to sell it. All in all, however, it wasn’t that bad. Coming to these types of events gave me the chance to talk to people who’d read my stuff and loved it, and that was the greatest feeling ever.
I hadn’t been working on my own stuff for very long, and I had only been with Paz Media for two years, so I was still relatively unknown. There were, however, readers who remembered me from my days at Boots Comics, and they had brought along comics I had worked on years prior.
Lena looked quite busy to my left; I had never seen her so engaged before. She seemed to really talk and listen to the kids who stopped by our table. She gave them her undivided attention, and I overheard her giving career advice to a couple of them who expressed interest in working as a comic artist.
I was surprised by how friendly she was.
She almost sounded sweet.
I had never seen her like that before, and it fascinated me.
My mind went back to the night of the stupid party, and I couldn’t help but thinking once again about how she felt in my arms…even though I shouldn’t have been thinking about that at all.
It was wrong. I shouldn’t have thought of her that way.
It was in the past. Lena wasn’t part of my present.
She caught me staring at her, and instead of freezing up as I would have expected, she smiled. I smiled back just as a warm feeling spread through my chest and my heart started beating faster than it had in a long time.
I recognized the sign.
I had a crush on Lena Andrews.
This is bad.
LENA
By the time we were done, I was exhausted. I had signed things, done some drawing, talked for hours, and taken numerous pictures.
My right wrist hurt. I rubbed it gently, trying to ease the tension. Like many of my colleagues, I had my own “battle scars.” I suffered from carpal tunnel whenever I had a particularly stressful week and ended up working more hours than I should have. I needed to make an appointment with my acupuncturist sometime soon. I should probably put some ice on it and rest when I’d get to the hotel. I was ready to call it a day and collapse on the king-size bed like a dead weight. I couldn’t wait to get some sleep.
Amos was talking to one of the event staff, a young guy who looked like he could be in his late teens or early twenties. He had short blond hair and the physique of an athlete. He didn’t look like your typical nerd who’d work this kind of event. They talked for a few more minutes, and when Amos noticed I was ready to go and waiting for him, they exchanged a handshake and a pat on the arm.
He came over to our table, placing both hands on the opposite side from where I was sitting. He looked so big and tall from that angle, and my dirty mind couldn’t help imagining him on top of me in a…different situation.
Get your mind out of the gutter, idiot.
“Wanna go back to the hotel?” he asked with an easygoing smile.
His words gave my dirty mind even more ammunition. I closed my eyes, trying to stop picturing him naked.
“I do. I’m beat. I could use a nap…or twelve straight hours of sleep,” I said, letting out a breath.
“Uhm, that’s boring, and not at all what I had in mind!” he teased.
“What?” I studied the gleam in his eyes.
He grinned, staring at me without saying a word.
“Cut it out! What is it?”
“How would you like to go to a college party tonight?”
“I can’t believe you’re dragging me to a party on campus. We’re too old for this!” I protested.
“Don’t be a Debbie Downer. You’re never too old to have fun. Plus, it’s my alma mater.”
“You went to Seattle University?”
“I did. That’s how I heard about the party. The guy working at the convention told me he knew I went there. Come on, we’ll just stay for a little bit and see how kids party these days.”
“They probably get a lot more wasted than we used to.”
“Where’d you go to college anyway? I don’t think I’ve asked you that.”
“I went to Berkeley.”
“Fancy.” He gave me a teasing smile, his eyes bright with mischief.
“Shut up,” I replied, slapping him on his bicep. He laughed, the sound of it rich and inviting, making it impossible for me to remain serious.
“Did Mom and Dad pay for that?”
“Heck no, they didn’t. Turned out, my grandma had quite the stash set aside so I could go to college.”
“That was nice of her.”
“It was. She was the best. What about you? Did your mom and dad put you through college, or are you still paying it off?”
“Still paying it off, but I had scholarships to help, so it wasn’t too bad.”
We made our way up into the house where the party was in full swing. People lined the porch of the old bungalow, some sitting on the concrete steps. Inside it was dark and loud; music blasted through the speakers.
I thought it was just a playlist on the stereo, but when we entered the next room, I realized they had a deejay playing.
“Hey, man. You made it!” said the guy who’d invited Amos. “Come on in, let’s get you guys something to drink.” We followed the kid farther into the house, and I started taking in my surroundings. I hadn’t been part of this kind of scene for so long. No matter what Amos said, we were too old to be hanging out with kids on the cusp of their twenties. I usually didn’t feel my age, but I felt old right then.
We shouldn’t have been there.
What are we doing here?
I felt like an intruder. The music, however, was good, and I was always up for a bit of people-watching.
The party consisted of kids with all kinds of associations. There were plenty of jocks, but also nerds and intellectuals. I saw a small group of young guys and girls talking animatedly about politics in the corner of the kitchen, and others were circling the keg. I peeked outside, where another group was smoking a joint.
I turned around and realized I had gotten separated from Amos.
I wandered around the house until a young, handsome-looking jock started hitting on me.
He was really cute, tall with wide shoulders and strong, lean biceps. He had short brown hair and dark-green eyes, and his skin was faintly tanned even though it was only late March. He looked like someone who spent hours exercising. I wondered what sport he played, but I didn’t care enough to ask.
I should have turned him down immediately, but instead, I played along.
“You go to school here? I’ve never seen you around.”
I smiled coyly. “No, I don’t go to school here.”
“Where do you go? What’s your name?”
“Lena.”
“Hey, Lena. I’m Wolf.”
“Wolf?” I asked, stifling a laugh. “Your name is Wolf?”
The corner of his lips tilted to the side. “It’s what they call me. My name is Walfred. I like Wolf better.”
“You’re right, I like Wolf. It suits you.”
“Yeah?” He circled my waist with his hands. This college kid didn’t waste time.
Someone made their way through the crowd, and I found myself pressed against his hard chest. I couldn’t really say I disliked it.
Still, I wondered how far he was going to go, and I wondered how far I’d let him go. Wolf gazed dreamily into my eyes, putting his moves on me.
“Your eyes are beautiful, Lena. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“They have,” I replied in a soft tone.
“Are they blue?”
“They are.”
“I like your lips, too.” I had to admit, he was quite smooth.
I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh. Two could play this game.
“I like yours. They have me wondering what kind of…things you can do with them,” I told him, cocking one eyebrow, and I almost saw a faint blush color his cheeks as a laugh escaped his lips.
He leaned in for a kiss, and I made him believe I was about to kiss him too, right before I pulled back.
He let out a soft laugh, his eyes lit with mischief. “Ah, I see. You’re a feisty one.”
“You have no idea,” I whispered against his lips, and then he stole a quick kiss. I was surprised, but not too upset about it. It was tender, sweet. He didn’t push it further.
Instead, he pulled himself back and stared at me with the utmost curiosity. Had he figured out I was much, much older than him?
“Would you like to go up to my room?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.
I pursed my lips again.
“I would love to, but—”
“But she’s with me,” Amos interjected.