Page 63 of My Cosplay Escape
The fairies ate my sandwichis printed on the front of his shirt, and my eyes linger. “I’ve always thought about it after my half marathons. It smells so good when I run by. Every good con begins with food, right?”
The Green Flash is the type of place my mother would come to with her buddies for brunch. But this early, it is decidedly more chill.
Adam folds his arms on our table and leans forward. “So this was entirely about breakfast and had nothing to do with not wanting to tell me where you live?”
“Because I’m homeless,” I say, smiling over my orange juice.
“Because you don’t sleep but run all night like a little hamster.”
“The gym makes me pay rent.” I catch his eyes sparkling.
The waiter appears, brandishing a pot of fresh, pungent joe. “Coffee?”
Adam glances up politely. “Always.”
The waiter sets extra napkins and cutlery on the table. “Your orders are going to be out in just a few.”
Adam raises his eyebrows. “You ordered for me?”
I tug the sleeves up on my hoodie. “You were late. I was hungry.”
The waiter returns with chorizo breakfast omelets piled high with guacamole, bacon, and stuffed with spinach, mushrooms, and cheese. “Apparently,” Adam says.
“I’m not rude.” Unlike some people, who push women off of them and toss them out of cars… But the memory of Adam’s hand gently tracing the lines of my mask surfaces, and I know I’m being unfair. He did kinda come to my rescue minutes before I jumped him. I shrug. “So I ordered for you too.”
Adam grins. “You should order all my meals. Save me from egg whites and sliced tomatoes.”
As if.
“What’s up with your shirt?” I ask between bites of chorizo.
“The hungry fairies? It’s my favoriteDr. Letoepisode.”
“Why?”
Adam pauses and then thoughtfully sips his coffee. “No. No, I’m not ruining some of the greatest forty minutes of television for you.”
“You’re a Letovian?”
“You’re not?” Another man—Daniel, for instance—would have spoken the words with irritation. Adam sounds intrigued.
“I know there’s a scarf or a fez or something. I think my roommate at one point was into it.” Mom loves BBC. Once, she had her book club gals over for the series premiere of the latest period drama starring hottie actors in tights. That was… memorable. A few of her friends came dressed as other notable leading BBC men (hence my knowledge of the scarf or fez), and I’m pretty sure they were all drunk and making out with each other by the end of the party.
“We can watch it together. I’m not a Letovian,” Adam explains. “I mean, I am. It’s a lot of fun, especially with the right crowd. But it isn’t my bread-and-butter fandom. No, we’re headed to Leto Con strictly for business.” He flashes a vendor badge from the breast pocket of his jacket.
“Oh, that’s right. Your Nightbat escape room.” I purposefully busy myself with my knife and fork. Eye contact always gets me in trouble. “You doing a demo at the convention?” Oh goldfish. Am I going to have to pretend I’ve never met everyone but Stace?
“No, just escape boxes. Although a full-scale demo isn’t a bad idea.” He leans back in his café chair. “I’m trying to find a buyer.”
“What?” My fork slips and clatters on my plate.
“I franchised it. My business model is good. Especially with the tweaks my cast has made.”
“They must be really talented,” I say, spearing a piece of spinach.
“Yeah, I got lucky. Anyway, the setup is easy. It’s mostly light and animations.”
“So did you get me a vendor badge too?”
