Chapter 6

Julia

I’d never been much of a fan of awkward silences. In fact, I’d pretty much spent my entire life learning how to avoid them. Queen of the small talk, that was me. Seriously, you should have seen me at my dad’s church after service let out. Nonstop talking. Chatty Cathy had nothing on me. I knew how to break any silence and put everyone at ease…

Except for right now.

Sitting in Matt’s car, stuck in traffic, I’d lost all ability to speak. My every attempt came out stilted and weird. The cars in front of us slowed to a stop once more and I gripped the edges of my seat to keep from screaming.

Surely this was some form of torture. Why had I even thought this would be a good idea in the first place?

I’d gotten a one-day reprieve from school, but was it worth this collision of worlds? Did I really want to go to a comic-con if it meant going with someone from Grover High?

We were currently halfway between Grover and Philadelphia, and I was torn between two identities. I didn’t know how to act. Should I be the me from school or the one he’d surely see over the course of the weekend? Unless I avoided him entirely once we arrived. A flicker of hope broke through the nerve-wracking panic as we drew closer and closer to our destination.

Conventions were big and hectic. I’d just steer clear of the one other Grover High attendee. How hard could that be? Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all. He’d go his way and I’d go mine, and best of all, I’d do it while skipping a dreaded day at Grover High.

My parents had called to tell the school that I was out visiting a sick family member. They knew where I was going, and they were okay with it. Well, not okay with it but they understood my need to retreat and strategize. In fact, I think they were a little relieved that I wouldn’t be around for my mom’s party on Saturday or for church on Sunday. The only people who hated drama more than me were my parents. Since my friends’ parents were also my parents’ friends, there was a potential for things to get strained.

My mother suggested I use the time in a big city to get a nice haircut and do some shopping. She either forgot or was in denial that my whole time there would be spent at the convention. Probably denial. My obsession with comics didn’t exactly mesh well with her vision for me…or with my vision for myself.

“So, did you book a room?” Matt asked. “Or…”

I squinted at his profile, simultaneously horrified and amused that this was how he’d chosen to break the silence. Awkward silence, begone. I’m going to make this an awkward conversation instead.

“Or what?” I asked. “Did you think I was going to ask to crash with you?”

His lips quirked up at the corners and his hands shifted on the wheel. “Just curious where you’re staying. I know the hotels near the convention were booked.”

“They were,” I said. “But the Ashton Hotel had a cancelation, so I was in luck.”

“The Ashton, huh?”

He did not sound pleased. “Let me guess, that’s where you’re staying?”

His answer was to glance over at me out of the corner of his eye.

Once again I was torn between laughter and annoyance. “Don’t worry, Cartwright. I’ll keep my distance.”

He let out a little huff. “It’s not that, it’s just…”

“You think I’m going to cramp your style?” I teased.

“If you cramp my style at a comic-con then I am even worse off than I thought.” His self-deprecating tone made me laugh but I feigned indignation. “Wait a second, are you bashing on the comic-con crowd?”

He widened his eyes. “I would never.”

I turned so I was facing him. “Have you ever been to a comics convention?”

His expression turned sheepish. “Uh…not exactly.”

“That’s a no,” I said, placing my hands in my lap demurely. “There’s nothing like a comics convention so ‘not exactly’ means no. Period.”

He glanced at me with a funny little smile. “And how many have you been to, Supergirl?”

If anyone else had called me that I would have been embarrassed but Matt’s tone was teasing, not mocking. “Um…” I had to use my fingers to count. “Five? I think? No, six.” I could feel his stare as I stared at the road. Finally, I caved. “What?”

“Nothing, just… You’re really into this stuff, huh?”

I let out a snort of amusement. “Are you just now realizing that?” I cast him a bland look. “What gave it away? The photo of me in cosplay or the fact that I’m escaping my life by running away to a comics mecca?”

He grinned and it was the good kind, the smile that made his eyes crinkle up all sexy like. “Okay, okay. Fair enough.”

A silence fell over the car, but I wasn’t about to let us dwell in uncomfortable awkwardness again. This little interaction hadn’t exactly been my normal small-talk genius, but at least I’d been at ease, and he had too if the smiles and laughter were anything to go by.

“So, what’s your angle going to be?” I asked.

He glanced over at me. “Uh…”

I frowned. “You have an angle, right? For your article?”

“Sure. Sure,” he said quickly. “Of course.”

I waited silently, trying not to look too smug as my holier-than-thou driver squirmed in his seat. “I’m, uh, just supposed to be covering the convention at large. You know, from a youth angle.”

“Uh huh.”

He shot me a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shrugged. “You know there are going to be hundreds of workshops and presenters and events, and that’s not including the collectors and the auction and—”

“Okay, okay. I get it.”

“I’m just saying that if you try to cover everything, you might not cover anything.”

He glanced over at me. “You sound like an expert. Does reading about Clark Kent make you an expert on reporting?”

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread over my face. As much as I’d been mocked this week, there were some nice parts of having my secret out in the open. Namely, the fact that I could honestly have a conversation about this stuff without judgment.

Well, no outward judgment, at least.

“I’m an expert because I read about Lois Lane,” I said with a faux haughty stare. “Everyone knows she’s the better reporter.”

He laughed. “Okay, my wise Lois Lane. What do you suggest for an angle?”

I stared at him for a moment to see if he was serious.

He was.

The great snobby king geek himself was actually asking for my input, and I honestly got a little nervous that I’d let him down. I was hardly an expert on pop culture journalism seeing as I’d never written an article of any kind.

But I’d read a ton. In fact, I’d read a ton about this particular topic. “A lot of people are going to be focused on the cast and crew of the new Marvel movie,” I started.

“Yeah.” He visibly perked up with enthusiasm as he glanced over at me. “I was thinking of trying to cover that too.”

I nodded. “You could, but you’ll only end up repeating what everyone else is saying.”

He shot me another one of those funny looks, like he wasn’t sure what to make of me. “Maybe everyone’s talking about it because it’s of interest to the most people.”

“It definitely has mass appeal,” I agreed. “But if your readership is a bunch of nerds—”

“Geeks, thank you very much,” he muttered, but he tempered it with a smile.

“Fine. If you want to appeal to the people who are actually interested in comics, I’d focus on Les Corning.”

He stared at me for so long I had to nod toward the road to let him know that the car in front of us had moved.

“Who’s Les Corning?” He didn’t ask rudely or anything but everything in him was rigid. The fact that he had to ask was clearly killing him. Once again, I tried not to be too smug.

Pretty sure I failed. “Les Corning is the new up-and-coming star of the comics world. He’s basically, like, Brian K. Vaughan and Brian Michael Bendis rolled up in one.” I forgot all about not being smug because I couldn’t hold back my excitement. “He’s supposed to be announcing a new series at the convention and I can’t wait to see what it’s going to be.”

“Who’s Brian K. Vaughn?”

I was dimly aware of the question, but I ignored it. I could fill him in on the genius that was Saga at another time. Right now? Well, I was psyched, and for the first time ever it didn’t matter who knew it. “Some people are saying that he’s going to reboot an old series, but I don’t think so. Reboots aren’t really his thing…” And, I was off. I would have felt bad about monopolizing the conversation if he wasn’t so darn curious. I’d have to guess it was the reporter in him that kept asking questions, encouraging my nonstop monologue that kept us occupied until we parked in the hotel’s underground lot.

“Sorry,” I said with a sheepish smile as he helped me unload my overnight bag from the trunk.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t normally talk that much. I totally monopolized the conversation.”

“Are you kidding? I learned more from listening to you talk than I did during all my research this past week.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder and led the way toward the elevator banks. “You did research?”

He scoffed. “Of course. I’m here on business, remember?”

I laughed a bit at the thought. “Business? Dude, this is a comics convention. It should be fun.”

“Is that why you go?”

His question sounded casual, but it was almost too casual. Like he was trying to mask the fact that it was an intensely personal question.

And it was.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been, but I could feel my shoulders tensing and the words that had been bubbling out of my mouth for the past hour disappeared again. I had a mental image of words being sucked up into the air and vanishing into the ether, popping like bubbles as the cartoon version of me tried to catch them and shove them back in her mouth.

“What’s that smile about?” Matt asked.

I hadn’t realized he’d come up alongside me and my smile faded fast. “What? Nothing. I just…” I cleared my throat and the truth came out. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”

“Asked you what? Why you’re smiling?”

I let out a huff of exasperation. “No one’s ever asked me why I like to go to comics conventions.”

I felt his eyes on the side of my face. “Seriously?”

I shrugged. “Granted, up until this past week, very few people even knew that I was going to these so…” But my parents knew. My friends from comic-con knew. More importantly, I knew. And truth be told, I’d never even tried to figure out for myself why I loved these conventions so much, let alone why I loved comics so much.

“So?” Matt prodded. “What’s the answer?”

We’d reached the elevators and the doors closed behind us. I pasted a smile on my face as I shrugged. “It’s just fun, I guess.”

I saw his disappointment immediately and something inside of me fell as that warmth in his eyes vanished and was replaced by the look of judgmental scorn I knew so well.

I turned back to the elevator buttons with a sigh.

“We’re here,” he said a minute later as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened with a ding.

Yup. Here we were.

Right back where we started.