Page 103 of My Cosplay Escape
“And my mom got a cat. Try to keep up.” I pull up my mom’s feed of Sir Bartholomew Fluffy Pants while Gwen squeals. She has every right too. The black furball is just as adorable as my mom’s smitten smile.
“So why do you have to go to homecoming as three different women?”
“Because what I have to work out is, does Adam like me for me? Or me for Catstrike?”
Gwen grabs the sides of her treadmill and groans. “Oh, you are such an idiot. You’re the same woman!”
“Okay, you’re right. I am the same woman, and he clearly likes both of me. But what if…” I can’t quite find the words to tell her exactly what scares the Shirley Temples out of me. What if once I tell Adam the truth, he walks away and never looks back? How would I recover from that? I’m not even sure I could. I’ve fallen hard for him, and the thought of losing him…
“What if what?” Gwen prompts.
I can’t put it out there, not yet. It’s too dear. “I was thinking if I get the right dress, I could wear my suit under—”
Gwen slams her treadmill down to a slower speed. “You march your sorry butt right over to that escape room and tell him the truth.”
“I’ve played this out in my head a dozen times. The only way this works is if I am in literally the best dress in the world—has to be floor length to hide my Catstrike boots. There’s loud music, the crowd parts, and all that atmosphere finally descends on him, and he realizes it has been me all along.”
Gwen looks at me with eyes that say,Get real, girl, please. “What movie did you see this in? Because you did see this in a movie. This is not a real-life thing that can happen.”
“Just come dress shopping with me. There has to be some way to pull this off. I could maybe—”
Gwen is glowing with sweat and panting. “Tell that poor boy tonight. Do the right thing. Give him a chance to save face.” She jams the speed button down on her treadmill. “And I have the perfect dress for you.”
I slow down the speed of my treadmill. “What are you talking about?”
“An LBD. Too small for me. Perfect for you,” Gwen huffs and puffs.
“No. The save-face thing.”
“It’s not always the big fairy-tale ending in real life,” Gwen says. “Sometimes you have to work up to it.”
Panic burns inside me. “You mean what if he doesn’t want me once he knows?”
Gwen groans. “I mean what if he needs a chance to cycle through a lot of emotions before he lands on the fact that he’s always hoped, always wanted, etc., etc., etc.”
I should have this conversation with Gwen when she isn’t out of breath and hurting from forty minutes of cardio. Even without hashing out the etc., etc., etc. territory, I know Gwen is right. I know I have to tell Adam tonight at the escape room.
I text him when I get back home.
Sabine Kennedy: Can you come early tonight? We need to talk.
Adam: I’ll try. Have a meeting with some investors. Going to be tight.
Adam: You found a dress for homecoming?
Sabine Kennedy: A little black one. See you tonight.
“Is Adam here?” I ask upon arriving at the escape room.
“Not yet,” Stacey says. “Nice costume.”
An evolution in my Catstrike cosplay seemed appropriate for tonight, and while never represented on the big screen, Daphne Cooke’s Catstrike is still iconic and easily recognizable—athletic-cut leather catsuit, boots without the fudge-me heels, circular zipper pull reminiscent of a cat collar, and, most notably, goggles. She was a reimagining of the character from a caricature to a real woman back in the early 2000s. She is just as sexy, just as dangerous, as the other incarnations, but more joyful and real. Needless to say, this cosplay is way more comfortable than my other costumes, and much more… me.
“Felt like I needed a little more authenticity tonight,” I say, adjusting my mirrored goggles on top of my cowl.
“Right. And still very comic bookish. So have you told him?” Stacey asks.
“He was supposed to come early.” I scan the guest list. “Half my gym is coming tonight. I need to tell him before they tell him for me.”
