Page 40 of The Fangirl Project
I just wish he’drealize.
Short of outright declaring my feelings for him by singing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” as I dance down some bleachers,10Things I Hate About You–style, I just don’t know what else to do to make him see it.
—
By midafternoon, we still haven’tfound Max, and Jake insists on getting out of the crowds to text him and try to track him down.
But we were having such a good time without our third wheel…
“I thought you wanted to try and beat the line to see that guy from theLord of the Ringsshow?” I say.
Jake winces. “Isildur will have to wait.”
“But you said you wouldn’t have time to see himandget a picture with Daxys.” It’s not that I don’t want to find Max, but…I mean, he’s seventeen, he’s a big boy, he can look after himself, and it’s only some hall full of nerds.
Jake, though, shakes his head. “It’s okay. I already got him to sign my poster at the last one. I just didn’t get a photo with him…But we should really find Max, it’s been ages. And this sort of thing is way more fun with others than by yourself.”
I barely hide my flinch, realizing that the tables have turned: here,Iam the third wheel, I am the one who’s gotten in between them and spoiled their day together, sharing in something they love and have been looking forward to for months.
I am the one who was pointedly not invited to evenings spent building cosplay wings together.
So I wait patiently as Jake tries phoning (it goes to voicemail) and then sends a couple of texts. It is good of him to check in on his friend, I suppose, and it does feel like maybe it’s my fault that Max has gone AWOL…
I’m sure he has no such conscience whenhe’sthe one interfering.
Jake looks agitated, gripping his phone in both hands and staring at the screen as if he can will Max to reply. I put my hand on his arm, my fingers curling around lightly, ready to pull him along.
“Shall we do a loop of the hall?” I suggest. “He’ll be here somewhere. And he should be easy to spot, especially with his wig.”
“Between the Legolas, Daemon Targaryen, and Witcher cosplays that are here, I wouldn’t be so sure…”
Of course he’s right; I quickly realize there are an unprecedented amount of guys in long white-blond wigs. But we do a circuit of the hall anyway, eyes raking over queues for autographs and the crowds around lightsaber displays, until there’s a cry not far off, several voices in unison yelling,Be Ye a Rascal, Roach?and descending into cheers and laughter.
I cut Jake a look, finding he’s brightened considerably. “Do you think that’ll be him?”
He laughs, and starts off at a jog toward the group ofOWARfans behind a row of merch stalls. There are two girls in Lady diSilver cosplay, though both wear her usual armor rather than the green dress; a guy with a very impressive set of huge, leather-look mechanical wings as Daxys; two more less-impressive Moonwalkers; and a few other miscellaneous character cosplays—including a guy with a Minotaur head tucked under his arm.
In the midst of them all, in his wig and pauldrons, is Max,and—
“Holy shit,” Jake breathes, now that I’ve caught him up. He grasps my arm tight, though his eyes are wide and fixed ahead. “Holy shit.Cerys, is that…is that…? That’s…”
It’s Daxys. Well, the actor who plays him.
And he’s got his arm slung around Max like they’re good buddies. He’s such a huge man—easily six and a half feet, barrel-chested, and bald, with a smile that crinkles his eyes—that he practically dwarfs Max by comparison.
The group of fans gathered around them are reacting to his presence much the same way as Jake: eyes bugging wide and hardlyblinking, mouths fallen open in glee, their entire bodies positively vibrating with excitement at this unfiltered, unguarded interaction with a favorite character and beloved actor.
Max, for his part, has on his usual cool, borderline-bored expression, as if he could not care less that he is currently being embraced by Jake’s idol. Daxys (whatisthe actor’s name? For all Jake’s talked about him, my brain blanks now. Bryan? Bernard?) is chatting affably with Max and the group.
“Go over there!” I whisper to Jake. “Go say hi.”
“Are you crazy? I can’t!”
“You already met him. You were literally going to pay thirty quid to get a selfie with him.”
“Yeah, but—but—”
He’s totally starstruck, and I can’t blame him. This guy is his Anne Hathaway, his Joey King, his Zoey Deutch.
