There’s so much devastation already in this world. We don’t need people making life harder, especially family; the people who are supposed to protect and love you.
“Don’t cry, Cupcake, this is supposed to be a happy day. I didn’t tell you this to make you sad. It was a long time ago; I’m over it. And my mum is better off now that they aren’t in her life.”
I sniffle, wiping my running nose. “I know, but it’s horrible. And it doesn’t seem right that someone as bright as you had to be around a place so dark. And your mum had to grow up around that too. It’s just so hard to get my head around. You’ve been through so much.”
“Mum always said I was bright,” he says, puffing his chest out, lighting the conversation.
I giggle, taking another sip of my water. “That you are. That. You. Are.”
“That’s better. I don’t like seeing you cry,” he tells me, absently rubbing his chest. He truly is the most caring person I know. He feels everything deeply.
“Want to get double dessert after and ask if we can take it to our room?” I ask, wanting to be alone with him and away from the noise in the restaurant.
He grins wickedly. “Of course.”
A plan in action, we quickly order our food and dessert, explaining we want to take it upstairs and to charge it to our room.
Even though he changes the subject, it’s hard not to think about what he went through. I knew his start in life was bad, but to find out how bad… It’s killing me. No one should have to go through that. And for him to turn out as brilliant as he has, is nothing short of amazing.
Everyone deserves to be surrounded by love, especially an innocent baby.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The day has finally arrived, and I’ve never been more excited in my life. I’m so nervous, my stomach is doing somersaults.
From the road trip, till this very second, it has all been a dream come true for me. I never imagined I would ever get to meet my favourite authors of all time, or get my books signed.
Now the day is starting and I’m charged with pure joy and excitement.
I’m glad I decided to wear tights with the new outfit Willow got me. The red blouse with its cute black bow tie matched well with the black glittered suspenders and black cardigan. It’s one of my favourites outfits yet. Even the black Converse CJ bought me go really well with it. It took me a while to stop staring at the glittered rose on the side when I first put them on this morning. They’re truly beautiful, and the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever worn. And at the end of the day, I’ll be grateful for that. My outfit is the bomb, too. Willow knows my tastes so well.
I love funky outfits like this. Don’t get me wrong, a good pair of leggings or jeans and a T-shirt go a long way, but these clothes… they make me feel like me. I don’t care if people stare at my whacky choice of clothes, or if they think they don’t fit into societal standards. It’s me.
The day didn’t really start off as planned. I was worried about my outfit choice when I looked out our room’s window and noticed it had snowed overnight—was still snowing—but it wasn’t enough to stop us from getting to the venue the signing was held at.
I hate snow. Especially when I’m standing in it for just under an hour. Snow should only come out at Christmas, but since I live in Great Britain, the weather never sticks to its four seasons. It’s frustrating as hell. I have a right mind to get the Christmas tree back out.
Thankfully, as we stepped inside, the heating was on and warmed us up in no time.
The place was packed. Not only was there a signing that had thousands of women waiting excitedly to meet their favourite authors, but also a Comic-Con going on in the same building. You couldn’t move without bumping into someone else. It was great. I didn’t even care I was still a little chilled from waiting in the line outside, or that my legs were already beginning to feel the burn of standing for so long. It would all be worth it when I left at the end of the day with all my pretties signed.
Already I had made some new friends and promised to add them on Facebook once I got signal. There was nothing I loved more than raving about my favourite book to someone else who loved it also. I could rattle on for hours about the latest book I just read, or one of my all-time favourites.
The feeling was bliss.
Willow, even though she was my best friend, was into shoes like I was into books. Half of them she didn’t even wear, but my books… I read each and every one of them. The only thing we have in common when it comes to the two is that we both zone out when the other is talking about it. It’s not like I don’t care about her interests; I do, but I don’t care about what new shoe is out or how her sparkly ones light up. I love my boots, Converse, and sometimes dolly shoes. Anything with a heel is a no go for me.
I still love her though, and one day, I know I’ll be able to win her over and not only get her to start reading but enjoy it too. It’s only of a matter of time.
“I’m still getting stared at,” CJ grumbles from beside me, leaning in closer.
Since arriving, every woman, young or old, has stared at my boyfriend openly. At first, it was a little annoying; I mean, he’s here with his girlfriend. Thankfully, none have come over and flirted with him. I wouldn’t know what to do if that happened. I don’t know if I’d get jealous or not. I guess it depends on who the person is and if it’s teasing or actually trying to get his attention. I’ve never been in a situation like it, so I have no clue. I’m not like most girls who would attack. I’d probably stand there looking special. Would I say something? Ignore it? I don’t know.
He’d smiled at first, loving the attention, but then things became a little awkward when a group of girls slyly took photos, giggling to each other. I have to admit, seeing his taken aback look was worth it. He’s usually all for it. I was surprised he didn’t start posing. He only has to see someone at Whithall taking a photo or selfie and he’s in it, grinning wide.
He pushes my trolley forward in the line, glancing around the room warily. We’re in a small lobby that leads to the main room, and its filled with women with suitcases, trolleys, crates like mine, and other fun things to cart their goods around.
He looks comical standing next to mine with his tall frame and bulging muscles. He seems so out of his comfort zone it’s hilarious.
I may or may not have gone a tad overboard on books, so he’s lucky I didn’t buy two crates. I didn’t realise I had so many until I unpacked them and stacked them in the trolley, making sure they were in order to grab for the first authors I see.
“They’re probably imagining you as their latest book boyfriend.”
We move up further, getting closer to the registration desk to grab our wristbands. “Book boyfriend?”
I glance at him, smiling as another woman slyly takes a photo of him. “Yeah. It’s what us bookworms call our favourite male characters.”
He seems to think that over, looking deep in thought “Do you have one?” I blush, ducking my head a little. He chuckles, titling my head up to meet his gaze. He kisses me softly, and a loud sigh come from behind us. “Do you?”
I drop my head to his shoulder before glancing back up at him. “I do. I have loads. It’s hard to choose when th8ey’re just that perfect,” I tell him adamantly. My focus wavers a little, thinking of my latest… Chase. God, who knew mafia men who shoot people for fun could be so hot.
An irritated expression flashes through his eyes. “I’m fucking perfect.”
Chuckles come from the lady standing in front of us. “You sure are.”
He grins at her, his chest puffing out. “Thanks.”
I roll my eyes, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. The guy loves being flattered. He gets withdrawal if he doesn’t hear how good-looking he is after so long. “They’re from books. And in the unlikely event that I do ever meet a replica of a book boyfriend, I’d still love you more.”
He looks taken aback. “But you’d still love them?”
I giggle at th
e wounded expression on his face. “They aren’t real!”
A lady behind gasps. “Don’t kill my dream!”
I wince, looking behind me. “Sorry,” I tell her, before turning back to CJ. “Stop being a pain in the arse and move forward. We’re next.”
He kisses me again before pushing the trolley forward. CJ orders our wristbands, while I chat the ear off one of the volunteers, explaining how excited I am. She chuckles, giving me a name badge and a free tote bag.
“Thank you so much,” I tell her, taking it from her. This is so cool. It has the signing logo on it and everything.
“Jesus, come on, you nerd.” CJ chuckles, taking my hand. He goes to lead me to the right of the room, but I gasp, stopping him.
“No, we have to start over there. I want to make sure I see my favourite authors before I see anyone else.”
“How do you know where they are?” he asks, dodging a woman pulling a pushchair piled high with books. He looks down at it with wide eyes. “Where’s the baby?”
I giggle at his expression. “Not there. It’s hard to lug books around, you know. I didn’t think of a pushchair.” Maybe next time. It does look big enough to hold everything I want to get. “And I downloaded a seating plan last night, whilst you were snoring. I figured it would be good to know where to go.”
He smirks, shaking his head at me. “Lead the way then, Cupcake. Oh, and I don’t snore; I’m far too pretty.”
I roll my eyes, giggling. “Trust me, you do. It’s a wonder Cole hasn’t smothered you in your sleep.”
I don’t bother telling him I find the sound comforting. He’d only tease me. The expression on his face is another reason. He looks truly confused and a little embarrassed.
“I don’t.”
“You really do,” I tell him, getting in line.
I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing when he begins to pout. “I don’t,” he grumbles under his breath.
An hour passes and I’ve only managed to see six authors. Finally, the line to see Alanea Alder has died down enough for me to see her. We had to stop by the bar a few times just so CJ could grab a beer. Apparently, there was only so many photos he could pose for.
At first, he enjoyed the compliments he got for being mistaken for a cover model. But the touchier the women got, the more he didn’t like it. I found it amusing and made sure to snap a few myself to send to Cole and Willow.
Juggling three gift bags full of swag, my trolley, a few books that won’t fit into the trolley, and a beer, he moves forward for us to take our turn.
I chat animatedly with Alanea, telling her how much I love her books whilst buying the remainders of the series that I need. I relentlessly ask her questions about what we should expect, while picking everything and anything I can get my hands on that she is giving away on her table.
“Who’s your favourite characters?” she asks, grabbing another book to sign.
I don’t even have to think about it. “Meryn. She’s hilarious; no other character can compete with her. She’s incredible. Although, second is Kendrick Ashwood, then Colton. Although, now they’re in Noctum Falls, I kind of love the twins.”
She looks up, smiling wide. “I’m so glad you like it.”
“I’m pretty sure she just named every single one your characters,” CJ mutters, looking at me in bewilderment.
I roll my eyes. “Trust me, they come nowhere near as close to all of her characters. You’re lucky I love one more than the others, otherwise we would have been here all day with me naming every single one and giving reasons as to why I like them.”
“She has a point.” Alanea giggles, handing over the last of the books.
“This is crazy. It’s just a book.”
A few gasps echo mine. “No, they are not.”
He holds his full hands up, stepping back. “Sorry. I know, it’s life. Your life. Please don’t bust my balls.”
Shaking my head, I turn to Alanea. “Men.” She nods, agreeing, her smile infectious. “Can I have a photo?”
“Of course.” She smiles, standing up.
Her accent is incredible. She sounds like she could lull a baby to sleep by reading a bedtime story with a voice like hers.
I throw my phone in CJ’s direction, and with his hands full, he drops most of the items on the floor before catching it. Just as I’m about to step forward, I trip over my own feet, nearly falling over her table.
Well, crap.
“Are you okay?” she asks, looking concerned. Probably for my mental stability.
My face is no doubt beet red because it feels like it’s on fire. “Yep, I’m good,” I tell her, shaking it off.
“Come on, let’s take a few funny photos and then a nice one.”
I beam, loving this woman even more. She’s amazing and really flipping sweet.
CJ is still pouting over the mess on the floor, the camera ready in his hand. We start goofing around, both of us laughing at his expression as we take the last of our photos.
“Thank you for coming to see me,” she tells me in that accent of hers, giving me one last hug.
“It’s my pleasure. Thank you for being awesome. I’m looking forward to your next release.”
I grab my pretties before moving over to CJ, helping him pick up my stuff before getting out of the way of the line.
“Can we sit down? My feet are killing.”
I give him an ‘are you kidding’ look. “We only get five hours, CJ. Every second is precious. We can’t waste time sitting down. Sitting down is for quitters.”
He takes a step back from my outburst before nodding. “Okay, it was only a suggestion.”
We move on to the next table and the author starts laughing. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
I look up from my browsing to see that her question isn’t directed at me but at CJ.
He chuckles, struggling to manoeuvre the bags into a more comfortable position. “Apparently I’m only here to carry the goods. She won’t even let me take a break. I’m starving.”
The woman looks flabbergasted but doesn’t look at me disapprovingly. If anything, she looks amused.
I growl under my breath and turn to CJ. “You have a stash of stuff in my trolley, which is why you’re carrying four of my books. And you ate a Burger King half an hour ago when you left to ‘take a phone call’.”
“I’m a growing boy.” His reply is always the same. I swear, he uses the excuse for everything.
The author laughs. “I have some spare room under my table if you’d like to store some of it until you leave?”
CJ is about to accept, but I hold my hand up to stop him. “That’s really kind of you, but he’ll only annoy me if he has nothing to do.”
She laughs, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Enjoy the rest of your visit.”
“I will.” I smile, handing her the money for a book that caught my eye. The cover is pink with sparkly writing all over it. I don’t even know what it’s about, but I can’t wait to see what it looks like on my shelf.
As we move away, CJ sidles up close to me, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “I didn’t know you get this heated over books. It’s like you’re a different person.”
“I’m not,” I lie. I totally am. I’m like a kangaroo on speed, wanting to jump from one table to the next. I can’t help it; I want to make sure I get to see everyone. And then there’s the people I talk to in the lines. I can’t exactly blank them. We’re like family in the book community; we share everything and anything.
“Cupcake, you nearly took out that woman who was browsing over the table. She wasn’t even waiting to see the author and you got all crazy-eyed.”
“I did not.”
“You did,” he argues, silently laughing at me. “She looked seconds away from either pissing herself or ramming her cart into your legs.”
I scoff. “She shouldn’t have pushed in. We were in that queue ten minutes.”
“She picked up a pen. I noticed she had a bagful, so she must
have been collecting from each author.”
“Whatever.”
“And don’t get me started on how many times you’ve spoken so fast no one has understood a word you’ve said. That one author just nodded and smiled,” he says, laughing.
“I was nervous,” I tell him, blushing a little. I tend to get carried away when I speak about something that means so much to me.
“And the nearly falling over your feet to get to authors?”
I send him a mock glare, but I can’t really be mad when he’s one hundred percent right. I have tripped more than once. At one author’s table, I knocked over her display. It was embarrassing. She took it like a champ, though. Even offered me a chair and a bottle of water.
Bless her heart.
“We’ve got half an hour to go and I don’t have much money left.”
He snorts, smiling at me. “That’s because you’ve bought at least one book from every author you’ve seen.”
“I might not ever see them again.”
He laughs while looking around the room. “I’m going to head back to the bar for a drink. I’m getting thirsty. I swear, people have done nothing but talk my ear off since we walked in. My throat is parched. If I wasn’t so fond of the sound of my own voice, I’d be sick of it by now.”
I don’t bother telling him that it was him talking to every Tom, Dick and Harry and their family. It’s just who is he. Then again, I’ve been the same, which is unlike me. There’s just something about a fellow book nerd that makes me relax enough to speak.
“Okay. I’m going to head on over there and try to make my way down the line of authors. I’ve seen everyone I desperately wanted to, so who I see now is a bonus.”
He nods, leaning down to kiss me. “I’ll take these with me. See you in a few.”
I watch him go for a second, giggling when I notice a group of old ladies swooning over him. The second he’s out of sight, I make my way over to the last row of authors and begin my march down the aisle. I’m determined to see every single one of them.
Game Over (Whithall University Book 2) Page 8
