I Heart Geeks (9 page)

He couldn’t let her go. Not after that kiss.

“We have to talk.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Willow—” he grabbed her wrist “—you can’t just ignore what’s happened.”

That kiss. That kiss had shifted his world. When she touched him he could feel it all the way to his core. His skin still burned from her touch.

“And what was that? A mistake? A lapse of judgment?” she asked, falling into an offensive stance with her arms akimbo. “Because that’s what it was! It meant nothing.”

He growled in frustration, his fingers mussing up his hair even more than she had. She was driving him crazy! How could she deny it? He stalked up to her like a predator fixed on his prey. “You practically had your tongue down my throat and was grinding on me like a stripper on her pole.”

Her gasp was sharp. That was crude. If his mother had been here he’d be burping soap bubbles for a month.

He sighed, then raised her hand up to his lips. Brushing a soft kiss to her palm, he hoped that she would know that he was regretful.

“Sorry, I just…” He sighed again, sounding tired. “We’re not nothing. At least not to me. I know I was stupid, and you have no reason to forgive me for ditching you, but I’d like just one more chance. I need it to prove to you that I was just some stupid, scared kid back then. Instead of running I should’ve snatched you up and never let you go.”

Tears began to glisten in her dark eyes. “Why’d you leave then? Why’d you avoid me the first time you came home? And then every time after?”

“I was eighteen. All I’ve ever wanted to be was an actor. Then I got into the pre-college program at Carnegie Mellon and then actually getting accepted into the musical theatre department, it felt like I was all set up to make my way to Broadway. Everything I’d ever dreamed of was right there for me. Ready to become reality.”

He brought her hand to his lips again and kissed her knuckles, never letting his gaze waver from hers. Seeing her eyes change form glistening to becoming a deep pool about to break its dam hit home on just how much he’d hurt her ten years ago. She had been devastated. Now she still hurt, but she’d built herself stronger. This new Willow was still his Willow but better, and seeing her stay strong made him proud. It also made him want to hold her. Help her in whatever way she needed.

“I love you, Will. I’ve always loved you. When that practice stage kiss became real it was like a flashbulb went off and made me realize that you were more than my best friend. You were the one. My one and that scared the piss out of me. But I wanted to be with you.”

“Then why did you leave me?” she asked slowly, trying in vain to keep her voice even and monotone.

“Because after a week I didn’t care about the theatre workshops. After two weeks maybe I’d stop caring about Broadway or acting. Everything changed and it scared me, so I ran.”

“Yeah, you did. Without a backwards glance.” Pulling her hand from him, she stared up at him disbelievingly. “After everything we’d been through, you expect me to forget? Forget that I woke up alone after a week of—” She took a deep, shuttering breath. “I didn’t even find out you were gone until your mom told me when I went looking for you. Knowing that you’d gone and didn’t even say goodbye? It hurt, but so did every week, every day that I didn’t get a call, text, or even an e-mail. A sorry and an ‘I love you’ in some hotel hallway isn’t going to cut it. Not by a longshot.”

With that parting blow, Willow walked away from him and he didn’t stop her.

“The worst romantic comedies are the ones in which all the man has to say are those three magical words, ‘I love you.’ That’s it. They didn’t do anything to prove it. It doesn’t have to be some grand gesture. It can be as simple as a man buying you tampons, because there are few things more emasculating than dithering over which absorbency he should buy while standing under the bright fluorescents of the store’s feminine hygiene aisle.”

—The Wisp, RomCom Fails, Words vs. Action

This was a terrible idea, but an unavoidable one. Her attendance to the costume party was not necessarily required, but would be an ideal place to mingle and network. If Willow played her cards right, she might be able to score some freelance contributor work and maybe some guest bloggers on her site. If she was really luckily—because she wanted and needed more fans—she’d meet fellow internet personalities and schedule some crossovers. Crossovers always were the best ways to gain more exposure leading to more page counts and more revenue.

She plucked a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. It was sweet, bubbly, and tickled her nose. The alcohol also helped calm her nerves. Dressed in street clothes she’d be apprehensive about being around a hundred-plus people in a crowded, humid ballroom. Dressed as Liliah LightBringer—GoldStar’s love interest and the only costume she owned that still fit—Willow had to actively keep herself from fidgeting and pulling her skirt hem lower. The brown pleather skirt was really a skort, but it was still tight and only reached mid-thigh. Paired with the billowy-sleeved green blouse, matching brown pleather vest, and gold ballerina scandals, she’d loved the outfit when she’d first worn it some five years ago; but now, knowing Jack—her Jack—was going to be GoldStar… And her costume seemed like a billboard message for him that her answer was yes.

Yes, she still wanted him, almost desperately. And yes, she still loved him and didn’t know if she had ever stopped loving him or ever will.

He was Jack.

Her Jack.

Hands on her hips, she closed her eyes and let out a frustrated breath. Then flipped her over teased brown hair. She was the LightBringer and the leader of her people. Pasting on a bright smile, Willow began to work the room. She met Hollywood types, fans, and fellow reviewers and critics. She handed out business card after business card, making sure word of her site spread.

The party was a flurry of photo ops, selfies, tweets, and one surprisingly in-depth discussion about the feasibility of interplanetary economics in various sci-fi universes with an up-and-coming action star. They both took selfies and it was a blast to geek out a bit—having a hot, ruggedly handsome companion was just icing on an already delicious cake. Her friends back in Harlow will be so jealous.

She had to tweet the pic immediately!

Just as the app opened, she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Miss Wisp?”

Turning, Willow was surprised to see the very anxious PR guy for GoldStar. He was sweating and wringing his hands. “Mr. Aldrich?”

“Please, call me Roger. Have you seen Jack?”

In a flash the image of him in the hallway, shoulders slumped with sad blue puppy-dog eyes and hands shoved into his pockets. A few hours ago he’d said he loved her, and she refused it.

“I saw him at like five, I think.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay…” he said. He looked a little lost, eyes unfocused.

She touched his shoulder and that seemed to grab his attention. “Is everything all right?”

“No one’s seen him since the signing this afternoon. Even then he seemed not his usual self. Did he say anything to you?”

“No, he… I thought he was headed back to his room.”

The man was near pulling out his hair. “Dammit. Sorry. I was just hoping you knew something. I know he’s been talking about you this weekend.”

“He has?” she asked, her voice squeaking.

He looked at her, his eyebrow quirked up as it he was asking her, “Really?”

“Did I get the job because of him?” As soon as the words left her babbling lips she slapped both her hands over her mouth, but that was like closing the sick bay doors after all the tribbles had already escaped.

Mr. Aldrich—Roger—was definitely not panicking anymore. No, he was just staring at her like she’d grown two heads or declared that the prequel trilogy was the superior of the two
Star Wars
trilogies.

“I’m sorry. It’s Jack and being here and this is a dream job and—”

“Jack had nothing to do with it,” he said. “He was just as surprised as you. I chose you, because I wanted to capitalize on your fandom cred.” He shrugged. “If you like what we’re doing with
GoldStar
then we’ll get less heat from the hardcore fans.”

“That’s all? I’m just here to get on the good side of the Gold Standard crowd?”

“That’s all. Heck, I didn’t even you were a Yooper until Jack told me.” He shrugged again, trying to retain his calm façade. “Well, let me know if you see him. I’ll be over by Nat’s hoard.”

Turning, we both saw her surrounded by a large crowd of adoring men.

“Is it always like that?”

“Pretty much.” He sighed. “Nat…Miss Blum is gorgeous. Her face is plastered everywhere, and when she focuses on you… it’s intoxicating and addicting and—” The poor man blew out a long, frustrated breath through his clenched teeth. His jaw, his whole body was tense. With a soft, self-deprecating chuckle, he stood there: his arms akimbo with his tuxedo jacket flaring open and tousled hair, looking every bit the lovesick underdog.

Gently, Willow touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

“No, but” —he flashed her a megawatt smile— “we’ve been getting some great buzz. I’ve already booked Jack a few on-camera interviews. And everyone wants a piece of Natalie Blum.”

Especially you, she thought.

“Roger, dear.”

Speaking of the starlet, she’d somehow disentangled herself from her admires and slipped her arm into Mr. Aldrich’s and held him tight.

“Miss Blum.” His jawline was still tense. It was as if his whole face took on the persona of marble statue. Frozen and emotionless.

“I am just having a marvelous time,” se announced gaily. As she gestured around the various gold and brightly colored bangles and jewelry she wore jangled and clinked.

From across the room she’d looked like a queen who relished in the attention. Up close, her makeup and costume were flawless. She didn’t merely look like Cleopatra. She looked like an Egyptian goddess who demanded the attention and adoration as her offering. Natalie Blum dazzled.

And that was the crux of it, she realized. Jack was starting his movie career. He will live and work amongst the beautiful Hollywood elite and he belonged with them. There was not a single cell in her body that didn’t believe he would be successful. He was charming and funny and talented. He was the boy-net-door who could kiss like a wicked midnight fantasy, and she loved him.

Willow Wisp loved Jack Kendrick.

“Willow?”

Lost in thought, she hadn’t realized the music had stopped and everyone had turned to stare at something behind her on the stage.

The air felt heavy, weighted with some unknown importance as if this was one of those moments that changed everything. Roger and Natalie were both staring too, a bit wide-eyed with alarm.

“What the hell is he doing?” Roger asked.

“Willow Wisp?” The voice was loud—amplified—but still carried his tenor as he said her name in a sing-song croon.

Damn his voice. It made her shiver by itself. Taking a deep breath, the closing her eyes, she turned. Slowly. Whatever Jack was doing on stage had the whole room silent, but she knew it just might make her cry. And Willow wasn’t a pretty crier or a particularly quiet one.

Another deep breath then she opened her eyes and gasped. Jack stood on stage with a spotlight highlighting him, making his blond hair look golden and his tan skin look velvety. He was dressed like an English lord circa 1800’s: tight tan buckskin breeches, emerald green waistcoat, and a rich, warm bark brown coat with a perfectly knotted cravat. She smiled. He must be wearing his Bingley costume from the
Pride and Prejudice
musical. With his hair disheveled, he looked a bit rakish and endearing; and in his hand was something colorful. She was too far to see what it was.

When he spotted her he smiled, it seemed to reach his eyes and make his green eyes glow. “Hey, Cabbage.”

She blushed pink and wavered awkwardly like a spaz. How did she stop waving?

“I love you, Willow.”

That did it.

Dropping her hand, she felt herself turn crimson. This was it. Oh God, she was about to have one of those big moments and all she could feel was dizziness with darkness edging around her vision.

“Willow!” His shout seemed far away. So far and— “Look at me Will. I’m right here.”

She blinked once. Then once again. Jack was standing in front of her, his large hands cradling her head.

“Jack?”

“Right here, babe.”

His thumb stroked her cheek with a featherlight touch. “Jack, what are you doing?”

“Giving you your moment.” He smiled. “You’re my best friend. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to call you or text you about everything. No matter how crazy my life is or even gets I know that without a doubt I need you in it. I know I messed up before. I did. But I’m older now, and when I saw you again, I realized how stupid I’d been. All the time we’ve wasted. It took me ten years to know that you’re the one. You’re the one I’ve measured everyone to. You’re the standard to which I’ve found every other woman lacking. You deserve a grand gesture.”

He paused and kissed her, hard and passionate and all too brief. “You are the kindest, most loyal person I know. I love you. And if you give me a chance, I’ll love you every single day and show you that you deserve grand gestures and big moments. So—”

He lowered himself and took a knee in front of her. She didn’t know what he was about to ask, but suddenly she saw the changes. He moved himself with more flair, his whole being seemingly coming into possession of a whole boatload of showman’s charm. And his voice.

It was loud and deeper. It reverberated, but was not thunderous.

It carried. He was using his theatre training to make sure his voice carried in the ballroom.

“Miss Wisp, will you do me the great honor of being my date to the
GoldStar
premiere?”

Her hand was snug in his. She’d always thought she had large, mannish hands, but with him, it made sense because her hand fit his.

“Isn’t the premiere next year?”

Smiling, he said, “Sixteen months to be exact.”