Page 18 of The Fangirl Project
“You guys take your grilled cheese the same, though. Ugh! With pickle! Grim.” He fake-gags again, and I’d find it funny, except having something in common with Max stings. Like it’sanotherthing he’s taken from me, and I know it’s ridiculous but I have the sudden urge to find a new favorite type of grilled cheese, just to separate us.
It’s just notfair.I’ve known Jake for five years. Max has barely known him for five minutes!
I take my plate with a mumbled “Cheers,” and return to my perch on the edge of Jake’s bed. He sets his stuff on the nightstand before flopping down, sitting up against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him.
Should I go sit next to him? Does it even matter now, with Max-the-third-wheel here?
I stay put.
Jake turns the TV on, finding the streaming service withOf Wrath and Runeand calling up episode three. After his commentin the Discord about not meeting some fan-favorite characters until around this point in the show, I’d kind of wanted to share that experience with him.
I hope we still get to have that. I hope Max doesn’t spoil it.
I also suddenly hope that Téiglin the stag-guy doesn’t die. I’m not sure I’m prepared for that, and I don’t need Max scorning me if I dare to sniffle about it.
As soon as the title sequence starts up, though, both boys are consumed by the show, and it’s like I’m not even there. The theme music is heavy on the strings—Jake sings that part, and Max joins in with the trumpets later, both of them bopping along in place to the bad graphics on the screen rolling through different scenes and overlaid with the cast.
It’s hard to concentrate on the show when I’m so conscious of my every reaction and whether Jake is watching. Worse, whetherMaxis watching, and judging me for being too disinterested or too fake or not getting something.
My right leg starts to get pins and needles where I’ve tucked it underneath me, and I’m hyperaware of how every time I shift on the bed to try to get more comfortable,I am on Jake’s bed, and Jake is right there.I’ve also got Daphne’s voice in my head saying that I don’t want to do a Cher fromClueless,so I’m too scared to move much at all, terrified I’ll somehow slip and fall right onto the floor.
So I end up staying still, suffering through my numb leg and a plot-heavy show with cheaply done CGI sets of fantasy cities and intense conversations full of subtext between characters whose names I can’t quite remember.
Every so often one of the boys will say something like “Oh man, remember this?” or “The costume department’s comesofar, dude.” And sometimes, Jake will give me a gentle poke in the hip with his foot and say, “Watch this, Cer. This scene isso good.Did you notice the stag beetle in the background?”
My mind drifts as we watch. I’m paying more attention to the makeup and set design than what characters are saying, or thinking about the map in the front of the book and trying to pair it up with whatever land is onscreen now.
Finally, though, something nabs my attention.
The scene is in a bedroom—a “bedchamber,” really, with a huge four-poster draped in velvet hangings, and a vanity with an ornate gold mirror—and a pointy-eared woman who just snuck in through her window sighs when she sees a (normal-eared) man in leather standing there, arms folded. He looks distinctly unimpressed.
I glance at Max, biting the inside of my cheek, wondering if he recognizes that kind of judgy look.
So far in the story, all I’ve learned is that she’s a noblewoman who sneaks off to…fight? Adventure?Quest?Generally get in trouble, and do it with a righteous attitude, leading a double life as a demure lady by day.
The elvish woman hisses,“Devon, if you say a word—”
“My lady, you cannot keep…”He trails off as she steps into the lamplight, holding her arm awkwardly. There’s blood shining red on her fingers, and he moves closer. I’m leaning forward on Jake’s bed, the scene sucking me in.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Who—”
“You told me once not to tell you anything that would risk your position in my father’s guard, that you owe him too much to betray his trust; I would advise you now—do not ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Devon.”
The soldier, Devon, sighs heavily. He closes the distance between them and pushes her cloak aside to reveal a wound he helps her clean and bandage, all in total silence, and the tension is so palpable that when she catches her breath, I do, too. The way he’s looking at her is so intense, I feel almost like I’m intruding, even though it’s just a TV show.
“This will be the final time,”he says, his voice low.
“You do not order me about in my own home, sir. Do you forget that I am the future Lady diSilver? The fate of these lands, these people, rests on my shoulders. I do not answer to a common soldier who—”
“Who will saddle a horse, and leave with you at midnight.”He straightens up, levels her with another weighted look. I think I gasp out loud at the turn in the story.“This cannot continue, my lady; they will find you out, and your quest will take you far beyond the towns surrounding your father’s keep. Honor compels me that I cannot let you go alone.”
“You’ll…come with me?”
“I will,”he responds, and as grim as he makes the promise sound, he hasn’t taken his eyes off hers.“Until the end.”
