Page 13 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“Sure.” My head is reeling. “Is uh… Is Mike, okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. He said he was expecting a phone call.”
And clearly had no intention of getting my number. I pull out my phone and check my company email, then toggle over to my personal email. “I’m turning into a pumpkin. We good here? I swear, if you take another picture, I’m liable to break your camera.”
“Yeah, we’re good.” He swipes through some of the shots on his phone. “What do you think of Mike?”
“Talented.” Intriguing. Handsome. Deeply tempting, especially since I would have sworn there was a connection, but I don’t have the time or the energy to chase unavailable men or unstable actor types. “Do you think the 5’s cleared up by now?”
“Are you kidding? You’re better off going up past Soledad to Torrey Pines. Why don’t you stick around? There’s this ice cream shop a couple of blocks from here. We could get some after I get this uploaded. You could crash at my place. Geek out overMississippi Bake-Off.”
“Pass.”
“You want to see the videos, make sure I got your good side?”
“They’re all my good side.” I’m not Molly McKinney’s daughter for nothing. “I’m gonna get going. I have a deposition tomorrow morning. Bright and early.”
“And that rebuttal.” He hands me an envelope. “Thanks for saving my neck.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“Complimentary passes to the escape room when we open in two weeks,” he explains.
“Sweet.”
“You get it, right?” He shifts the weight on the balls of his feet. “I know you’re not a nerd like me, but—”
“You’d have to be comatose not to get it. It’s amazing. Even with the boxes and half-painted mural.”
“Thanks, Bea. I owe you one.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
Chapter 4
I am not a psycho who fell for a man in clown makeup and caught feelings in the subsequent twenty-minute exchange. Despite my limited experience with romance (one lukewarm boyfriend in law school and a few dates as an undergrad), I do have better taste and judgment when it comes to men than to fall for jerkfaces. Before I let any inner judge, jury, or critic deliberate over my verdict, I have more evidence to wade through when it comes to Mike Benedick. So I’m going to revisit that evening last April.
I’m leaving my brother’s escape room, and I have every intention of getting in my car and schlepping it back to Del Mar.But then I see Mike standing on the corner of Garnet Avenue and Cass Street. He’s got one hand in his hair, the other pressing his phone to his ear.
I feel a wave of unexpected relief realizing he actually did have a phone call he had to take. That’s the reason I spend a beat taking in the sight of him on the corner. Laughing, chatting, doing all the things normal people do. So why am I so transfixed?
I think it’s his shoulders. They should be bunched, conveying the ubiquitous tension that comes to eat all our lunches because of modern life. Instead, they’re relaxed, down and back. He’s talking with passion, his hand conjuring success and every other good thing out of the ether.
It’s attractive. He’s attractive. Yes, he’s talented and has wildly convincing intensity when he’s in cosplay, but when we were chatting for the photos, he was playful and so wonderfully aware. He was going to ask me out before he took that phone call. He flirted with me. And I didn’t even get a chance to flirt back.
I came all this way. I may as well walk to the pier. Who knows, I might even kick off my shoes and stick my feet in the water. And yes, heading to Crystal Pier means I’ll have a reason to walk right past Mike. Won’t that feel nice?
I smile and politely, if coyly, wave as I saunter past him. I was expecting a return smile. I was not expecting Mike to fall into step beside me.
“Fantastic,” he says, still on the phone. “Yeah, we can touch base next week after I’ve scheduled rehearsals. Cheers.” He hangs up and beams at me. “You walk fast.”
“I’m in a hurry.”
“If it’s in hopes of getting us a table before the dinner rush, I’m afraid we’re a little late. We could try—”
“I’m headed to the pier.” I have my standards when it comes to actual dates, and Mike will have to work harder if he wants the pleasure of my company for a meal.
“What a coincidence, so am I.” His lips press into a quiet smile while his eyebrows draw upward.
