The Meet Cute

Sonder & Seductions 001 | A bookish super fan, a mysterious author revealing their identity for the first time, and the kiss that complicates it all.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Dedication
For all the girls who are just girls and to every friend I’ve made in the bookish community. I love you!
And for Jessica G. thank you for showing the joy of shaking some ass girl!

Trigger warnings: Post-breakup grief, dark humor about death/dying, healing journey, and healing from people pleasing, social awkwardness,

---

The haptic clicking of the glowing screen clacks beneath my fingers as I send the message off with a whoop.

“Made it to the hotel.”

I swipe to the screen to share my location as I plop down on the heavenly soft premium suite sheets. Stretching is the real luxury here after being cramped up in economy for 6 hours.

I’m not usually one to fly. I’m terrified, actually, but my favorite author is going to be at this event. I know how parasocial that sounds—there’s no getting around it. Who bites a chunk out of their savings to willingly board the flying tube of death for a faceless author who barely even posts on social media. Maybe it’s not parasocial—maybe it’s delusion.

My phone chimes.

“Be safe, Celeste! And try to have some fun!” the message reads.

“You’d better not spend all day in that room hiding. Go shake some ass, girl!” It chimes again.

An easy smile spreads across my face, wishing Kerry could have come with me. The announcement was so last-minute I barely got tickets myself.

I send off a GIF of Rihanna twerking to appease her. I came here for one thing. A chance to meet the author who changed my life. To see the face behind the words that made me brave, made me cry—that even awakened some things in me.

I just want a chance to say thank you. If I hadn’t read the Colors of the Soul series, I’d still be stuck with my art project. I’m a couple of months from finishing, and even though I’ve made a lot of progress, I feel like there’s still something missing.

An alarm buzzes on my smart watch. Registration is about to begin.

The 12th-floor elevator opens to a gorgeous woman holding a stack of books. She greets me with a sweet smile, and I return her one of my own. In a moment, all the awkwardness I usually feel around people dissolves. That’s the thing I love about these events. Granted, I’ve only ever gone to the ones in my city—but whenever I do, there’s always this sense of safety and belonging. I get to be my nerdy, introverted self here. I get to make friends like me—I get to find my people.

I join her in the elevator with a quiet hello, admiring how the gold foiling on the spines of her books glistens in the warm light of the sun. The view from the glass lift is breathtaking, even if heights aren’t my thing.

I look around for something to say, trying to ease my nerves. The books catch my eye again, the titles igniting my favorite topic—J.T. Rose, also known as the author of the Color of the Soul book series.

“I love those books. Where did you get them?”

“Oh, these? They’re the special editions going on sale tomorrow.”

“No way! I love this series, is this—is it like some kind of surprise drop for the con?”

“Yes, a limited run, actually. Once they’re sold out, they’re gone,” she turns them over, showing off the intricate sprayed edges. My fingers itch to touch them.

“How did you get your hands on them before the sale?” My stomach drops, and another thought slams into me. Who else could have them but the author herself? I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit online trying to uncover the mysterious identity of J.T. Rose—hours trying to guess her name. Janet? Janiece?

The elevator dings at the 5th floor. My heart races a little faster as I really look at her, taking in her features. She’s tall with deeply tanned skin—something about her told the story of a proud asian heritage, but there were also bits of myself I could see mirrored back to me. No matter where in the world we come from, Black women always know each other. Our vibe is irreplaceable, and she’s definitely got it.

“How rude of me—I’m Celeste. What’s your name?” I ask with more hope than I realized I was holding. What if this is the moment I get to meet her? Not at a crowded table. Here, where it’s just the two of us, if she’s not busy, maybe I can show her the art piece her books inspired.

The elevator dings at the fifth floor, and to my dismay, it stops. The doors fly open as a man barges right in between us. No excuse me, no nothing. Just spreading his man-ness all over what could be the coolest moment for nerdy readers everywhere.

I cross my arms, grinding my teeth at his distraction. He almost looks too large to be in here with us. He almost looks too gorgeous to be anywhere. His deep brown skin looks like he definitely doesn’t use a 5-in-1. The expensive-smelling cologne wafting off him is also inconveniently delicious,

“Ah, Jenna—there you are.” He says to her, out of breath like he’s been running.

Jenna…

My heart hammers in my chest as the guy yammers on about something—boxes—tables—whatever!

Her name is Jenna.

I consider myself a somewhat brave person. Confronting a bully. Standing up and speaking out for what’s right in the world. But cutting into an ongoing conversation might as well be a fire-breathing dragon guarding a hoard of social swagger I just don’t have.

Silently, I nurse my disappointment, trying to coax myself into taking the moment for what it is. The elevator opens to the lobby. I don’t know who this guy is or how he knows her, but I take one last swing at having a satisfying social interaction.

“It was nice meeting you, Jen—” the words are nearly knocked out of me as the elevator’s yappiest man pulls her away from me. Did he—did he just shoulder check me? Stunned by his rudeness, I stay rooted to the spot.

He looks back with a scowl, as if he’s making sure I’m not following. Who would want to follow him? He turns to say something to Jenna, his lips moving around something that looks a little too much like, “That’s her.”

I watch in both confusion and horror as Jenna’s face contorts—nodding and turning away.

Going up, the elevator sings.

The doors narrow with his eyes still glaring into mine. I don’t know what comes over me, but I give him the finger just before the glass box drags me away from the mysterious woman with the golden gilded books.

Exiting on the empty third floor, I pace in place. My rage and embarrassment turning into something worse—curiosity.

What kind of psycho smirks at a woman clearly pissed off enough to tell him to fuck off?

---

“No, it’s ok, I’m ok!” I huff into the phone. “He’s probably just one of those guys who holds up a book and cruises events—or he’s an assistant or cosplayer or something. I just can’t stand rude people. I’m over it.”

“Okay girl, because I will Spirit Airlines my ass right over there and tell Mr. Tall and Yummy where he can stick it!”

“I never said he was yummy—”

“You said he was tall—it’s the same thing, Celeste.”

“I’m not doing your book math bullshit today.” I laugh, feeling like myself again. “I do wish you were here, though, there’s a little mixer tonight and I don’t want to go by myself.”

“It’s been two years now,” her voice softens, “It’s time to get back out there. Don’t you want to meet your fated mate?”

“Fated mates aren’t real—and you know I’m not here for that.”

“Right—right, Ms. J.T. Rose,” she singsongs teasingly. I have no problem envisioning the exact angle she rolls her neck at. I love knowing someone the way I know Kerry.

“Those books changed my life.”

“And we were all grateful to see you leave that piece of shit boyfriend in the dust.”

We both laugh. “Book boyfriends raising the bar for women worldwide,” we say in unison as if we’re sharing the same brain cell.

“You still deserve your happy ending, CeCe.”

I nod, knowing she also knows me well enough to understand the silence.

“Life is more than just working to become your best self. Who you are now is worth knowing. It’s not one of your art projects, no one’s grading you—there are no rewards for perfection in life.”

“Arrrrggghh,” I let out an exaggerated sigh that turns into a laugh we both share again. “You’re insufferable when you’re right.”

“You’re cute when you’re growing.”

“Fine!” I say, pulling the yellow dress back out of the closet. “I’ll shake some ass.”

“That’s my girl!”

I follow the signs to Hall H, stopping to hug and greet familiar faces along the way. One of whom struts by my side, looking fabulous as ever.

“I’m so glad I ran into you—wait, what’s your preferred name? I only know your username.”

“Celeste. She/her.” I say, reaching out to pair my proper introduction with a cheeky handshake.

“Axal—They/them” We both smile brightly, the excitement of finally meeting in person teeming between us.

“Yellow is your color—you look stunning!”

“Me? You!” I say, “You are a vision in this emerald dream!”

“Ok, fine, we look great! Let’s go put these drink tickets to work.”

The music lures us into the dimly lit hall, arm in arm. The high ceiling and fantasy decorations have truly transported us to another time. That’s when it really sinks in. I did it. I got on a plane, flew away from my city, and checked into a hotel alone just for the chance to spend a weekend with the community that’s always made me feel like I finally have a place where I belong.

Axal and I stop by the photo ops to take some pictures. They gather a swarm of admirers and compliments as I gesture to the bar. They nod, the silent conversation of meeting up later complete. The line is longer than I would like, but I sing along, shifting in my heels, passing the seconds into minutes as I wait for my turn.

“I’ll take a Shirley Temple, please—” I shout, handing my ticket over.

“Dirty?” The bartender asks. I know it’s a serious question, but a giggle escapes me anyway.

“No, just the sweet stuff—extra cherries if you got em.”

“You got it!” She smiles—she’s cute, but I notice the wedding band on her finger. All the cute ones already have their happily ever after, it seems.

Longing mingles with the gratitude I feel.

“Grey is still a color,” I whisper to myself. “It’s the light finding its way back into the dark…” It’s the part of the Color of Souls series that lingers with me. Before those books, I was a really black or white person. Now, I’m learning to embrace the grey—to live in the beauty of the in between.

I turn, looking over my shoulder—Axal is still with the group of people I left them with, laughing and gesturing wildly with their hands. An eagerness to join them bubbles up inside me.

“Here ya go, darling.”

“Thank you,” I say, reaching for my drink with one hand and sliding a couple of loose dollars into the tipping bin with the other.

Something wide and firm slams into me.

One second, my drink is in my hand, the next, it’s on my dress.

“Water—I need water.” A gruff voice says.

“Excuse you!” I turn to face the assailant. “You.” I glare at the man from the elevator. He looks down at me, almost like he’s surprised to see me still here. Did he expect me to run away from the little show he put on earlier?

“Apologize,” I demand in a tone Kerry would be proud of. I may be shy and maybe a little awkward at times, but this crosses the line.

His eyes skate down the length of my dress and back up to meet my gaze. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.

I stand my ground.

“Jared—your water—” The bartender calls out to him, holding out a cup.

He takes the cup and turns on his heels, his stride nearing a run.

“Oh no, you don’t!” I slip out of my heels, scouring the ballroom for somewhere to stash them.

I cross the room towards Axal.

“What the hell happened to your dress?” They ask, pulling away from the crowd and meeting me halfway.

“Some guy spilled my drink on me—this is the second time.”

“He’s done this before?” They gasp.

“No—no, they were rude to me earlier today—it’s a long story. Can you watch these for me for a sec? Someone owes me an apology.”

“Yes, sure, you want me to come with you?”

“No, I got it, I promise I’ll be safe—”

“Here, give me your phone.” They tap our phones together. The screens blur and pop, our phone numbers exchanging. “There. You call—I come.”

“Ok, same. If you're ready to go or if you need me—just call.” I share my location and they share theirs with me.

“You'd better hurry—I think he’s getting away.” They laugh, pointing at a tall figure ducking beneath a door frame.

I stomp in that direction.

“Go get him, girl!” Axal calls from behind me, cackling, and I suppose I look ridiculous, but I’m too pissed to stop now.

“Hey—wait!” I shout up the stairwell. “You owe me an apology,” He peeks over the railing a story up from me and curses, picking up his pace.

“Get—back—here!” I punctuate each word as I chase him up the steps. He must be taking them three at a time because he stays out of reach, story after story.

I scream and I curse, and he just keeps going.

“So you’re not just rude, you’re also a coward!” I try to jab at him, anything to slow him down. I’m not particularly athletic, but I am an artist—quitting is not in our vocabulary. I keep going even when my lungs protests.

The hinges of a door whine open, filling the stairwell with a gust of fresh air. Where the fuck is he going?

He stands there in the doorway, chest rising and falling as heavy as mine.

I walk up behind him and push so hard he steps through the doorway. I follow him out onto the landing.

“No—don’t let!” The door snicks shut behind me as I place my hands on my hips. “Shit—” he groans.

“Yeah, that’s right—you thought you were getting away with what you did?” I say stepping forward, years of pent up people pleasing, fighting its way to the surface. “Why the hell are you running? If you’re going to come into our spaces—the least you can do is have some gods-damned respect.”

“Gods-damned?” He asks almost earnestly.

“See,” I point at him, “A real reader would understand that reference.”

“What makes you think I’m not a real reader?”

I narrow my eyes, “I don’t care if you read at a second-grade level—apologize for what you did. Have some accountability.”

“I’m sorry.” He offers too quickly.

“No—” I shake my head.

“No?”

“Yes, no!” I say, starting a barefoot pace, “I’m still angry. Apologize again—better this time.”

“I had to get out of there—I didn’t see you…” he says, downing the water in one gulp. “I’m sorry I bumped into you and ruined your nice dress.”

I nod my head in either direction—he waits for my verdict as if he cares what I think.

“It’s okay—not the best.”

“Look, whatever game you’re playing—I can’t, I’m not in the right mindset to play along.”

“Me? Playing a game?”

“Yes, are you some kind of fan or something? I know how these things get around.”

So that was her. Jenna is J.T. Rose.

“Well, yes, I am a fan—and I suppose you gathered that when you dragged her away from me.”

Confusion brackets his eyes. I see the moment he recognizes that I’ve figured it out. He laughs.

Long and deep, the kind that has him leaning over to clutch his knees. The brightness of mirth does something to his face to make him more attractive. I mean, he was already attractive to begin with, but that smile—well, I can’t stop staring at it.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, crossing my arms as he stands up to his full height again.

“Nothing—I just thought—never mind.” A gust of wind blows the empty cup out of his hand and over the rail. The very tall, very high railing. I take a step back towards the door, realizing that I don’t want to be up here.

“It’s locked,” he says, tilting his head at me. “You got any apologizing you’d like to do?”

“Not necessarily,” I say as I try the door handle anyway. I jig it again and again, but it doesn’t budge. I turn to see him standing still behind me. Is he standing closer to me than he was a moment ago? What the fuck was I thinking coming up here?

I point my finger at him, “Stay right there.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says, lifting his hands in mock surrender, that smile returning to his face.

“I’m glad you find this amusing—” I say, reaching for my phone, “Shit—no signal.”

I return, rattling the door. A warm hand engulfs mine, trying to pry it away from the handle. I try to wiggle out of his grip—my hand slams right into his face.

I spin on a gasp.

He groans into the pain, pulling his fingers away from lips to make sure I didn’t draw blood.

“Well, that was rude—” He says in a low voice, arching a brow at me. I lock my jaws tight. Not liking where this is going.

“You shouldn’t have been in the way—” I cross my arm, rolling my neck at him, “I don’t see you trying to get us out of here.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he sighs, shaking out of his jacket and lying on it, facing the sky. “No one told you to follow me up here.”

“Well—no one told you to spill my Shirley Temple all over my dress.”

“Was that what that was?”

“Arrrgh!” I let out, frustrated enough to cry—to stubborn to do it in front of him.

I pace, staring at him on the floor. There’s nowhere to go on this glorified balcony.

His hand thuds against the ground twice.

Brown eyes peek up at me when I don’t move.

“I don’t bite—”

“That’s what they all say.” I roll my eyes as I take a cautious step forward.

“Sit down.”

“Why do you sound so bossy?”

“Habit, I guess.” He shrugs, not bothering to meet my eye.

I start to walk away, maybe I’ll slump against the door and wait to be rescued.

“Sit down—please,” he tries again.

“It’s too close to the edge—heights are not my thing.”

“Not mine either—none of this is...”

“You seem pretty relaxed to me.”

“Lying down—it helps.”

I roll my eyes, joining him on the ground.

“So, you enjoy the dirty ground often.” I inwardly cringe, but it gets a rumbling chuckle out of him.

“Only when I’m avoiding huge crowds.” His smile wanes. “There are so many people here—so many women here—I didn’t expect it to be such a big event.”

He doesn’t say it with the enthusiasm of a cruiser—he almost sounds nervous.

“It’s because of J.T. Rose. When people found out she was going to be here, the tickets sold out overnight.” I feel the lightness return to my voice as my body relaxes a bit. “She’s the reason I’m here.”

“I just hope the reveal doesn’t disappoint.”

“How can you say that? Those books have changed lives—they changed my life—made me believe in myself again…” The chilly air nips at my skin, “Made me believe in love again.” I say through chattering teeth.

“Hmm.” It’s all he says in response as he rolls off his jacket, draping the warmth of his body heat trapped within over me.

“Now that’s something a real reader would do—” I joke, pulling it tightly around me. “I was sure you were gonna leave me to freeze over here like some kind of reverse Titanic tragedy. Maybe I misjudged you…”

“Maybe you have.” He smiles softly, taking his shoes off, removing his socks, and moving toward my feet. “If your arms are cold, I know your feet have to be freezing now that all that self-righteous adrenaline is wearing off.”

I narrow my eyes at him, but he’s right, my toes are rather frosty.

I nod—too proud to concede, but he lifts one of my ankles onto his muscular thigh, tugging the sock on before doing the other. A shiver creeps up my spine, and I tell myself it’s just the cold. He slips back into his shoes, joining me on the floor again.

“How long do you think it will take for them to find us?

“They won’t, we’re going to die up here,” he deadpans.

I dig into his shoulder with my fist from beneath his jacket.

“So violent!” He laughs. “And you wonder why I ran from you—”

“Are you really calling a black woman aggressive?”

“No, not aggressive. Powerful. Black women are powerful, some might be intimidated by that kind of confidence and unyielding will, but power recognizes power. I respect it.”

“Okay, what book did you steal that from?” I ask, only half suspiciously.

“Do I get my real reader badge yet?”

“Naw—not yet. Gotta tell me your favorite book first.”

“That’s hard. I have so many—”

“Oh come on—your reputation is on the line!”

“Okay—okay, let’s do favorite genres.”

I side-eye him, but answer anyway. “I love Fantasy and Romance.”

“Good choices, but that’s two—you can only have one.” He says with a grin.

“How are you making up the rules now? I only went first because I knew you were too afraid to do it.”

“The rules are the rules—no one knows where they come from,” he teases.

“Okay, if I had to choose, I would choose fantasy—as long as it has romance.”

“So your answer is romance.” he chuckles.

“Of course, you would think loving romance is funny.”

“It’s my favorite too.” He confesses more seriously. “I love romance.” He adds with a shrug, turning to look at me.

“You seem nonchalant when I mentioned it earlier—when I mentioned J.T.’s books earlier. I just thought you’d be a sci-fi guy.”

“Nope—romance guy, through and through.” He says, propping himself up on his elbow to face me. I join him. “I mean, who doesn’t want that kind of intimacy and devotion…Who doesn’t want their happy ending?” he adds.

“Yes, right.... My favorite thing about romance stories is the make-up after the breakup.” I giggle at his scrunched-up face.

“So you’re willing to skip right over the meet-cute and right into the third act breakup.”

“Third act? Oh, you’re really trying to earn that real reader card from me, huh?”

“The meet-cute is the best part.”

“No, it’s not—it’s so unbelievable. The characters can’t know if they’re really meant to be in the beginning, and honestly, attraction doesn’t happen that fast.”

His eyes trace the planes of my face before holding my gaze again, “I disagree, Celeste.”

I roll my eyes, “If you can show me a meet-cute, that’s actually good, and the real reader card is yours.”

He sits up straighter, embracing the challenge. “A handsome strapping young man spills a drink on a beautiful woman who chases him up to a rooftop where they get stuck together and talk for hours under the stars.”

My breath catches as I realize the scene he describes.

“It hasn’t been hours—has it?”

“Semantics.” He shrugs.

“So what happens next?” I ask, feeling something I haven’t felt in years. Ease. It’s been so easy to talk to him—to joke, to laugh. To be myself.

“Hmm—there’s a couple ways this story could go…” He puts on a very studious face. Playing along. “First, they could die—freeze to death—she’ll be forced to eat his body for sustenance while she hopes to be rescued.”

“That sounds like a horror—I thought we were talking about romances?”

“Right—right—so no alien abductions then?”

“No—not unless they’re hot.”

He chuckles at that.

“Well, they could also slowly realize what a good time they're having in an otherwise awful situation and share a quiet moment of intimacy.”

“A quiet moment of intimacy? What are you? A chaste Victorian woman reading by candlelight?” Our laughter echoes into the night, falling into the hushed, unsaid thing that’s joined us on this terrace tonight.

“I’m realizing what a good time I’m having—” he says, eyes flitting to my lips.

“Me too—” I agree, searching his eyes for something I’m too nervous to ask. A beat of silence passes between us. We sit in a companionable silence. Something new for me. How has this rude man made me feel so comfortable in such a short time?

“Can I show you?” He finally breaks the silence.

“Show me what?”

“Why the meet-cute is obviously superior to the third-act breakup,” he sweeps my hair out of my face, letting it linger there.

“You can try,” I whisper breathily, leaning in.

I expect it to be awkward or hot and rushed, but it’s neither of those things. When his lips meet mine, it awakens something deep inside of me. Something hot and lush and heady. I whimper, trying to hold back my sudden greed. He groans, rolling on his back, inviting me to lie on top of him. His lips are soft and firm, coaxing me—patiently waiting for me to decide how far it goes. I tower over him, luxuriating in his lips, wanting more. My mouth parts, and his follows, deepening the kiss, and nothing has ever felt so good. I kiss him the way the heroine does after a battle—I lose the rational battle with myself. I know just met him, but our tongues dance til I find the grey and dive in.

His jacket falls away as my leg comes up to stradle him.

“Is this okay?” I whisper

“Yes—is this?” his hands bracket my hips as he aligns our bodies.

I nod, eagerly finding his lips again.

He kisses me in a way no man ever has. It possesses me.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says, bringing us to a seated position. “Yellow was invented for you—” He kisses down my neck, my clavicle. “I should be punished for ruining this dress.”

“Such a romantic.”

“How could I not be in the presence of a woman like you?”

The kiss heats up—impossibly so. My hips rock against him, writhing and ready. My hand drifts down between our bodies.

“Wait—I”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have asked if you wanted to—”

“I do, I just—There’s something I should tell you first.”

I wait, giving him the space to speak as my blood cools.

“My name is Jared.”

“I know, I heard the bartender—Nice to meet you, Jared.” I can’t stop myself from giggling at his sudden sternness.

“No, that’s not what I mean—” He takes a deep breath, “I’m Jared—I’m the—”

“There she is!” The first voice startles me right off his lap.

“We found her.” The second one is Axal. They tuck the loose waves of their bob-length hair behind their ear, taking in the scene. “Okay, project search party is over! Nothing to see here!”

I hang my head, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” They say reaching for me next to a stunned Jared. “Looks like you’ve had enough apologizing for the night.”

“It was a pretty good apology,” I murmur low enough so that only they can hear. They laugh into the stairwell, “Hold on, gimme a sec, I’ll be right there.” I say, holding the door open as Jared finally rises to his feet. Dusting himself off.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? At the event, I mean.” I ask, trying not to flush. I’m cool. I can be cool about this.

“Yeah—tomorrow.” He says, hand gliding over the short waves of his tapered cut.

“Just let me know where to find you, gotta get you those socks back.”

He walks over to the door, towering over me and holding it open. “I’ll be at booth 313.”

“Right, duh!” It’s the first booth on my list. Probably on everyone’s list. I’ll finally have my chance to properly meet Jenna tomorrow.

“Goodnight, Celeste.”

“Goodnight, Jared.” I start down the stairwell, commanding myself not to fall. “Oh, and—if the crowds are too much—just reach out to the ADA team, there are plenty of ways they can accommodate you. Just ask.”

“I’ll do that.” He says, watching me till I fall hand in hand with Axal, disappearing back into the party.

---

“Okay, tell me everything again, from the top!” Kerry’s voice riots through the speakers.

“She went up there to confront her nemesis and ended up sucking face—classic enemies to lovers!” Axal recaps as we get ready together in the large bathroom mirror.

“Next time you have to have your camera out Axal—I can not believe I’ve missed this milestone,” Kerry fake cries.

“Both of you are being ridiculous. We were just stuck up there—he was cute, so I went for it.” I shrug.

“Did she tell you she said, ‘See you tomorrow?’” Axal pretends to be scandalized.

“Oh, this is serious—” Kerry replies.

“I have the man’s socks—”

“The ones he took off his own feet and gave to you because you were cold?” Kerry repeats like it’s her favorite part. “Girl, that’s a proposal!”

“He was just being nice,” I say, applying my lip gloss. “He’s working the booth for one of the most popular authors here. He’s probably just trying to make sure I don’t get him canceled.”

“With the way you’re blushing, I’d say it’s working.” Axal teases.

“Hey, carry did Axal tell you about the bartender she kissed last night?”

“Traitor!” They pinch my side, laughing.

“You started it,” I pinch back. Spilling all the beans, “Yeah, that’s what took them so long to find me. What do they call it where you're from, Axal? Snogging?”

“Bitch I’m from New York.”

Each of us laughs until our stomachs hurt before saying goodbye to Kerry.

I have one last look at the yellow two-piece set I picked out for today before heading to the con.

“Are you nervous?” Axal asks as we walk out of the elevator into the lobby.

“A little—” Everyone knows how much I love this series. I’ve posted about it so much. I really took people on the journey of how those books impacted my life.

“The good news is that you met her already—the big part is out of the way now, all you have to do is introduce yourself and try not to cry.” They say.

“Oh, I’m going to cry.”

“You’re so going to cry!” They giggle.

The signing hall is packed from wall to wall. A sea of voices meets us at the door, sending excitement through my whole body. I don’t know what Jared said to Jenna after our elevator ride yesterday, but after last night, I’m sure he’s cleared things up.

She was so kind and warm. I can’t imagine this day being anything other than great.

Axal and I lace our fingers together, weaving through the crowd. I must have said excuse me a hundred times by the time we reach the 300’s. My heart hitches. I try to think of what I want to say. These things go so fast, and I don’t want to fumble my one shot.

Well, technically, it’s my second—this is my redemption arc.

“Give me your phone—” Axal holds out their hand as we make it to the line. It’s not as bad as it could be. Maybe a 30-minute wait since we got here so fast. They point the camera at me and start recording, helping me make memories of this moment. “Now do a little spin!—perfect!” They say handing my phone back.

Someone squeals in the not-too-far distance, running to hug someone. They rock back and forth in an embrace, talking over each other but smiling all the same.

“Remember when that was us yesterday?” I say, unable to hide my smile.

“We were so young then.” Axal sighs.

“So tell me about the bartender.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I ordered one of those Sherlock Temples—disgusting by the way—thanks for that—

“First of all, it’s Shirley, not Sherlock—”

“Oh hunny you didn’t know?—They transitioned.” Axal explodes at their own joke.

We cackle with abandon. I feel the core memory forming as we playfully swat each other to death. It’s been so hard finding queer friends in my city. Especially as a bisexual person who doesn’t always present in an obvious way. Axal was one of my first book friends online. They had all the good saphic and queer recs. The rest was history.

“You’re such a hater!”

“You love me!”

“I do!” I say, hugging them close. “But you’re not getting off the hook that easy.”

“You might have to let me off, though—I have to pee—”

“Go—little liar,” I tease. “I’ll still be right here when you get back.”

Axal walks off into the sea of people, leaving me alone with nothing but my books and my thoughts.

I clutch the tattered paperbacks to my chest. First editions. They’re not nearly as fancy as the ones Jenna had yesterday, but they’re mine. Noted and tabbed with doodles and scribbles in the margins. They’re well-loved, now they’re about to be signed. Complete.

Something about that thought makes me think of my art piece. Makes me think of the missing piece. Colors begin to bloom in my mind. Yellow and reds like the dress I wore last night. Midnight blue like the sky. The elements I was missing start to take shape.

Power… that’s what it’s missing. I need to put my own power into the piece.

I scan the crowd looking for a tall, dark, and handsome figure. Wanting to tell him for some reason. I can’t say for sure if he was right about the meet-cute, but I know that kiss definitely gave me something to paint about.

I get close enough to the booth to see how differently it’s laid out than the others. Instead of the open table, it’s inside something resembling a tent. One way in and one way out. The walls are completely opaque, black, and hanging a sign that says, ‘No pictures or videos allowed.’

My phone dings,

“This line is so long, hope you’re doing better than me.” The message from Axal reads.

“Almost there!!!” I respond with a smile.

I shift on my feet, thumbing through my books, looking a all the art I’ve filled them with. I hope she won’t be offended by how much I’ve written in them.

“Next, please—come on in,” A familiar feminine voice calls out. My stomach leaps when I realize that she means me. It leaps again when I realize there’s another face in here I want to see, not just hers.

I blink into the darkness, letting my vision adjust to the dim lighting inside. A banner of Greyson and Lilly stands at each end of the large table, covered in all the best character art. I search the table for the special editions—of course, they're gone. That’s ok though. I came here for one thing.

She rises from the table, stepping around something to walk around to greet me.

“Hi, welcome—it’s so nice to see you again.”

“Hi—hi—um.”

Her soft chuckle, mirrors my own. “I’m sorry, I’m nervous—”

“It’s ok,” She says, gently resting a friendly hand on my shoulder. “Most people are when they meet him.”

“Him?” Jared rises from beneath the table, almost resembling the male main character of the series. Hot. Very hot, actually. “Oh, no—I’m not here for the cosplay stuff—I’m here to meet you!” I say excitedly.

“Me?” She asks, looking as confused as I am.

Jared rounds the table, stepping up beside Jenna.

“Celeste, you remember my assistant Jenna.”

“Assistant…” I murmur as eyes bounce from his to hers.

“I’m Jared Rose—” he holds his hand out, taking in my books clutched against my yellow blouse. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Author’s Note:
Thank you so much for reading this week’s scene from Sonder & Seductions, a series where I share the little stories swirling around in my head. Each story is a standalone, some are story seeds for bigger projects, but all of them from the heart. That’s all for now, see you next week.