The Meet Cute | Chapter 2
ROMANCE SERIAL | A contemporary romance following a bookish artist meeting her favorite faceless author for the first time, only to find the author is not who she believed.
Author’s Note: If you’re new to the story, you can start here for TW’s, an in-depth intro, & complete chapter list. This is 18+ adult fiction.
“No, it’s ok, I’m ok!” I huff into the phone, finally back in my room. I didn’t even bother to mingle after registration. This is a Kerry-sized emergency.
“He’s probably just one of those guys who holds up a book and cruises events, you know how these guys are, girl.” I continue, filling her in. “Or maybe 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!” her voice projects through the speakerphone.
“I never said he was yummy—”
“You said he was tall and that he smelled good—it’s the same thing, Celeste.”
“I’m not doing your book math bullshit with you today.” I laugh, feeling more grounded. “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 way she rolls her neck.
I love knowing someone the way I know Kerry.
“Those books really changed my life,” I say, hanging my dress in the closet.
“And we were all grateful to see you leave that piece of shit boyfriend in the dust.”
“And he was all too relieved to be let go.”
“He never deserved you,” she reminds me. “And he wasn’t even that cute—and you and I both know he wasn’t anything to giggle about in bed.”
We both laugh until we’re cackling. “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 on becoming your best self. Who you are now is worth knowing.”
“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,” she retorts. “ A fated mate can be a new friend, a new experience—whatever you need it to be… Although I do think you need some D!”
“Don’t start, Kerry!” I warn.
“Go to the damn party, you’re already there—or I’m going to set you up with someone myself when you get back home.”
“Fine!” I say, pulling the yellow dress back out of the closet. “I’ll shake some ass.”
“That’s my girl!” she cheers victoriously.
Kerry and I stay on the phone yapping the entire time it takes me to get ready. I style my wig into a middle part, pushing the long black locks behind my ears and placing an elegant tiara atop my head—the finishing touch to my Lily cosplay.
The pastel yellow dress fits me like a glove. The hint of blush on my cheeks and lips pulls the whole look together. There will be no mistaking who I’m dressed as.
Younger me would pass out to see me now. I didn’t have characters who looked like me to dress up as growing up—but now…
I swallow the emotion in my throat, taking one last turn in the mirror.
If only my Greyson were out there.
It’s not a sad thought. For the first time in a long time, the thought feels like hope as I step out the door.
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 name? I only know your username.” BookishGoblin89 asks me.
“Celeste. She, her.” I say, reaching out to pair my proper introduction with a cheeky handshake.
“Axal—They, them,” they say in kind, as we both smile brightly.
“Yellow is your color, by the way—you look stunning!” Their accent is thick in the way that makes everything they say sound like a Shakespearean play.
“Me? You!” I say, “You are a vision in this emerald dream!” They do a quick spin, relishing in the compliment. And they are gorgeous.
“Ok, fine, we look great!” They make a show of tossing their cropped hair from side to side. “Let’s go put these drink tickets to work.”
Axal and I strut arm in arm, exchanging our plan of attack for the signings tomorrow as the music lures us into the ball. The high ceiling and fantasy decorations has truly transported us to another time.
I don’t know if it’s the lighting, the sound of the buzzing crowd, but the energy is palpable.
I did it…
It’s the only thought in my mind right now.
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.
The gratitude is almost sharp enough to cut an onion in here.
One look at Axal, and I think they feel it too.
“Let’s stop over there before we sweat through our makeup,” They say, pointing at the large backdrop. It’s one of the scenes from the Colors of Soul series.
Axal and I stop by the photo booth. I didn’t expect so many people would want to take pictures with me. I didn’t expect to love it so much. Not the pictures themselves but the interactions—the connection. Not a single one of them looked sorry for me—not even those who recognized me from my oversharing online era.
“They should have had you paint something for this.” Axal muses, taking in all of the lavish decor.
“I couldn’t have done anything like this, especially not now.” I snap my mouth shut. I’m doing it again. Someone makes a simple comment, and I start vomiting my feelings all over the place.
“What’s going on?” They ask, stepping in closer so they can hear me over the building music.
“Nothing really, I don’t know why I said that,” I try to laugh it off. “How’s your book coming along?”
“Like shit!” They burst out laughing. “I’ve been staring at the same few thousand words for months now. You would not believe the things I’ve done to try to get out of writer’s block. I even went on a date with someone—it was terrible, of course! But I definitely know how I’m going to write the villain now.” Axal cracks up at their own joke, tinging the pale skin of their rounded cheeks pink. “Writing a book is so hard,” they finally sober, and I can tell they really mean it. “I just can’t seem to write the way the authors I love do, ya know? They make it look so easy.”
“Yeah.” I nod, feeling my shoulders sag a bit. “I do know.” I straighten my dress before daring to go on. “I’m stuck too. With my painting right now—I’m stuck; it’s like I have some kind of block. I spent months planning this and now—”
“Nothing.”
“Right.” I agree.
“It’ll come to you. For me too, hopefully. Art is a long game. Sometimes it’s just an experience away from a breakthrough.”
“I always say that too!” I perk up. “Art is in the living.”
“So let’s live a little!” Axal shimmies, waiting for me to decide.
“I didn’t plan on getting out there tonight, but I owe a good friend of mine a shaken ass!” I join them hand in hand as we head right to the dance floor.
After a few songs, I manage to slip away, signaling to Axal that I would be at the bar. The line is longer than I would like, but I sing along to the thrumming music, shifting in my heels, mindlessly passing the seconds into minutes as I wait for my turn.
“I’ll take a Shirley Temple, please—” I shout, finally handing my ticket over.
“Dirty?” The bartender asks. I know it’s a serious question, but I can’t help the giggle that escapes me.
“No, just the sweet stuff—extra cherries if you got ‘em.” I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face.
“You got it!” She smiles back warmly—she’s really 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. I didn’t come here looking for love, but it’s hard to be surrounded by it and not think of it at all.
“Grey is still a color,” I whisper the book quote to myself. “It’s the light finding its way back into the dark…”
It’s a quote from the Color of Souls series that lingers with me—it’s also the theme of the art piece I’m currently trying to finish.
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. I laugh to myself, eager to know what the hell they’re talking about.
“Here ya go, darling.” The bartender hands me a cup bobbing with cherries. Just the sight of it makes my mouth water.
“Thank you,” I practically squeal, reaching for my drink with one hand and sliding a couple of loose dollars into the tipping bin with the other.
One second, my perfect drink is in my hand; the next, it’s on my dress as something wide and firm slams into me.
“What the fu—” I start to exclaim.
“Water—” A gruff voice shouts over me.
“Excuse you!” I shout back. He turns to face me, hazel brown eyes and thick brows only fanning the burn in my chest.
“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.
His eyes trail down the length of my dress and back up to meet my gaze. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.
“Apologize, now.” I stand my ground.
“Jared—your water, man.” The bartender calls out to him, holding out a cup.
He takes the cup and turns on his heels, his long 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 ask.
“No—no, he was rude to me earlier today—it’s a long story. Where’s your phone? Someone owes me an apology.”
“Here,” they hand it to me, “sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“No, I got it, I promise—” I tap our phones together. The screens blur and pop, our phone numbers exchanging. “There.” I save their number, handing their phone back as they do the same.
“You call—I come.” Axal promises. They tap their phone screen, sending a request to share our location.
“You’d better hurry—I think he’s getting away.” They laugh, pointing at a tall figure ducking beneath a door frame.
I slip out of my heels, storming 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.
Meet the Author
Divinity Rae (she/they) is a romance and fantasy indie author, multi-passionate human, professional yapper and self-proclaimed wielder of whimsy. When she’s not writing or rushing to the theater so she doesn’t miss the previews, you can find them with their face in a book, playing their switch, or doing a fun cozy craft.
Divinity writes stories action, spice, and heart that explore themes ranging from grief and love after loss to low stakes meet cutes and kisses.
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