by C.M. Kars
Ayden’s character is still my favourite on the show, and I’m overly invested in a sci-fi show that is laughable to most, but to me, holds so much heart. I love the show, even though the writers are giving me heart palpitations with what they’ve done with some characters and no matter what I do, Ayden won’t tell me anything, claiming that he doesn’t know since they haven’t started shooting the fifth season yet.
Yeah, Leviathan’s been on hiatus for months, just in time for con season and for some serious downtime for Ayden until production kicks back up at the end of August. I was able to take my vacation at the same time so I could go to cons with him—another fangirl’s dream that’s come true.
The first, obviously, being that I’m now dating the guy who played the character I was in love with for so long. Wow. Just, wow.
“We can head inside now, miss,” the bodyguard says. I don’t even know his name (yet), but I follow along where his arm has swept the air to show me the direction I need to head towards. A set of double doors are open in front of me, a darkened hall through the other side while my eyes adjust to the gloom. I’m motioned toward a seat right at the front of the panel while volunteers and organizers and the moderators are milling around, trying to get everything ready while a trickle of the fandom starts moving towards their seats, talking excitedly.
I had hoped for anonymity, but that doesn’t exist in the world that Ayden lives in, and I find myself waving as I’m waved at, like these people know me. I already know what part of the fandom is like, and I’m sure I’m in for it, being criticized for the way I look or whatever, but I couldn’t care less today.
It takes another thirty minutes before everyone is settled, and the buzz of conversation is hitting me from all sides while I stare up at the panel table, searching for Ayden’s name among the place cards.
When the moderator starts announcing each actor I clap politely, then totally lose my mind when Ayden is announced, whooping and jumping with the rest of them as he comes out on stage, looks out into the crowd and somehow makes me feel like we’re the only two people in this huge hall, without the hundreds of people inside it. He can do that to me, make me believe he’s only ever looking for me and only me.
He looks especially handsome in jeans and a plain, loose, white t-shirt that somehow shows off his muscles underneath. I grin at him when he blows me a kiss, and the crowd loses their Leviathan-loving minds.
The moderator keeps announcing actor after actor, and finally the two writers rounding out the end of the table. The panel starts with the moderator introducing the show in generic terms, then their experience with it, telling us how much she loves it. I watch Ayden fidget with his watch, understanding his nerves underneath all these harsh lights.
Ayden doesn’t like all the scrutiny, the fanfare, the conventions, but it’s one aspect I love about it as a fangirl—I get to meet the characters I’ve fallen in love with, interact with them in a different way, get leaked spoilers for the new season. It all means so much to me.
When Ayden catches my eye while answering a question from the moderator, his eyes light up and he grins at me, like we’re the only two sharing a private joke. I half-cover my face, hoping no one sees my reaction. Great. Now he wants to be sexy in front of the entire fandom. And I can’t do anything about it.
The moderator turns it over to questions from the audience, and I sit up straighter in my seat, craning my neck over to the side, seeing a microphone there, and a short girl no more than thirteen years old trying her best to speak upwards toward the mic that was clearly meant for a Tall Person.
“Hi! My name’s Mandy and I really love Leviathan. My question is for both Mr. Stone and Mr. Gonzalez. I would like to know if you’re friends in real life?”
Well, that was adorable and completely not what the cast or the audience was expecting. It’s no secret that half the fandom ships Chrisander and his best friend Mage, and the other half ships Chrisander and Amy. Then again, this is only the very first question of the Q&A, and I’m waiting for the real bomb to drop later on.
There are questions about costume design and input from the actors. There are questions about the story, subtext that was never meant to be subtext, and underlying foreshadowing that some fans have picked up on and the writers suddenly look really nervous.
I watch and listen for close to two hours, smiling like an idiot every time Ayden answers. I don’t know, I just think he’s adorable and he makes me want to squish him, smother him with affection.
When the panel’s over, I wait by the doors, the last person left in the hall, knowing that Ayden will come and find me after he’s done. There’s another meet and greet later on tonight, so we had plans to go eat and relax before coming back here.
“Hello, darling,” Ayden says, coming through the emergency exit with a bodyguard in tow. He leans down to kiss me on the cheek, his lips warm and soft in the green room that has the A/C cranked all the way up. “I missed you.”
“I was literally sitting in front of you the whole time.” I grin, tilting my head up for a kiss.
“Yes, but I couldn’t do this in front of all those flashing lights, now could I?” he asks, putting both hands on either side of my face and planting a wet one on me with lots of tongue. I forget where we are, just falling into the feel of him, the way he’s taking slow pulls against my mouth, before plunging his tongue inside, giving me his taste, a whimpering moan with his name coming out on a sigh.
“No, no you couldn’t,” I murmur against his mouth, feeling him smile against mine while I try to concentrate and focus on how to become a human being again and not a puddle of fangirl want.
“Should we go and get something to eat? I’m starved.” He threads our fingers together, nodding to the bodyguard that so obviously saw us making out, and I light up like a boiled lobster.
We make our way through the convention center, heads down, but there’s so many people here that we’re hardly recognized, and if we are, there’s nothing more to do than wave and keep on moving. Reminds me of the penguins in Madagascar—smile and wave, boys, just smile and wave.
“Are you kidding me right now? Here?” I ask, laughing, stomach flip-flopping. “You want to eat here where we had our first meal together?”
“Why not?” Ayden grins. “It could become a tradition.”
I laugh, lean up to kiss his cheek and let him tug me inside, securing us the exact table we sat in last year for kicks and giggles.
We eat our meal across from each other, chitchatting over our day. “I’m going to walk around while you do your signing; I’m interested in some of the displayed artwork. Is there something you’d like me to get for you?” I ask, thinking about perusing the comic book shops and asking if they have the newest Leviathan omnibus with untold tales inspired by the show to add to my collection.
Ayden shakes his head, scarfing down his burger and fries. Poor guy hasn’t eaten all day. I know how he gets before cons, nervous as all get out and nauseous, and it looks like he’s making up for it. “I’m all right. I’ll meet up with you after.”
We walk around town after we eat, a complete déjà vu of only one whole year ago, except now we know each other, are now hand in hand, and I know exactly who I’m with. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Sometimes fangirl obsessions have to remain in the realm of fiction—they don’t have a place in the real world where they can interfere with loving a person who is accessible to you. I just never imagined they could be one and the same—the same person, character and actor, despite having vastly different personalities. I look down at our clasped hands, admiring the difference in size. Last year I never would have thought this could happen to me, not ever.
Fangirls excel at falling in love with fictional characters and dealing with the pain of knowing that a relationship could never come to fruition. It’s even more heartbreaking than falling in love with a celebrity—hall pass or not. At least celebrities exist—fictional characters, not so much. And yet, her
e I am, holding the hand of the man of my dreams, walking under the California sun after we’re done eating, smiling at each other, laughing with the man I love.
Crazy thing is? He loves me too.
And that’s a fangirl dream for the books.
I guess fangirl dreams do come true after all.
Fin
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
C.M. Kars lives in Montreal, Quebec, Canada where they speak French and say more than voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir? (I didn’t just ask you that, I was just trying to make a point).
Fangirling Over You is her fifth novel and she really hopes you like it a whole lot.
You know what to do now, right?
Tell a friend!
If you liked this book, please consider leaving a review on Goodreads and/or Amazon.
Nail polish was definitely chipped in the creation of this novel (OPI’s Don’t Bossa Nova Me Around and Holo Taco’s Green Taffy), but that is just the price I gotta pay to write, write, write.
If you would like to keep up with me/ask me questions you can contact me at:
cmk (at) authorcmkars (dot) com, or on Twitter @cmkars, and you can follow me on Bookbub:
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/c-m-kars
You can also check out my website, and consider subscribing to my newsletter for updates on what I’m working on here: authorcmkars.com/contact/
Read on for a sneak peek of Book Two of The Fangirl Chronicles – To All the Footballers I Loved Before!
TO ALL THE FOOTBALLERS I LOVED BEFORE
The very first time I fell in love I was six years old, and I fell in love with one of the greatest football players in the entire world at the time.
I remember sitting in front of the TV, too close to the screen so that the picture was distorted, my dad putting on a game. I remember the bright green of the soccer field may have caused some damage to my eyes.
I was entranced, even back then.
I was mesmerized by the crisp white lines on the pitch, designating the halves, the lines running up and down on either side of the field that keep the ball in play. And then there was the ball, a tiny spherical thing that could be kicked great distances across the field, a tiny speck to the camera in most cases until you got a real close-up of the magic that happened between a talented player’s feet.
Although I didn’t know what the sport was called back then, I knew with the fervent conviction of a six-year-old that I wanted to be a soccer player when I grew up. Or like they call it over here in my new home away from home, a professional footballer in the Women’s Prime League, the female counterpart to the men’s professional football league here in England.
I fell in love with one of the greats back then, an Italian player by the name of Giovanni di Laurentis, who made magic with the ball that no one could touch them. And in my five-year-old mind, that was it, that was love, this admiration I felt, this want to be him, and this started my lifelong journey to make it to the pros even though I was born with ovaries instead of a dick, and women’s football has started making the impact it needs to, finally, where the fans are crazier than the players.
It all started with Giovanni di Laurentis, fifteen years ago, while I stared slack-jawed at the TV screen, watching him use his superpower to fight off the defensive players, line up a pass right into the middle of the penalty box, and his teammate drive it home.
Chaos. Elation. These are the things I felt fifteen years ago, my little arms held up to the sky, mimicking my dad as he shouted “GOOOOOOAAAAAAAAALLLLLLL” for all of the street to hear and then grabbed me up in his arms and proceeded to lift me on his shoulders and run around our living room in a tiny town in Ontario, Canada, where the national sport is lacrosse, and the real kind of football isn’t that important to watch when it’s compared to hockey.
But I knew what I wanted to do back then, and I’ve finally made it this far, the night before my debut on the pitch for the English Women’s Prime League, playing for one of the most renowned all-female professional teams, backed by a hundred years of history: Southgate FC, colloquially known as The Hounds.
It all started with Giovanni di Laurentis.
I’ve loved football players before, of course, and as I grew up, my playing style changed with whoever I was obsessed with at the time, learning speed and accuracy from the greats like Harold Stone, Jonathan Baker, and Fernando de la Vega; I learned tricks from Étienne Houde and Pavel Lucic, and I have given a piece of my heart to every single one of them over the years.
It all started with Giovanni di Laurentis.
But it didn’t end with him, not by a long shot.
To All the Footballers I Loved Before will be released on March 15, 2021.
