The Boy Who Has No Belief - Victoria Quinn Page 0,20

and a short message. Here’s an example—Thanks for being a cosmic fan…” He looked back at me again, like that line was absolute garbage.

“I know it’s corny, but it would be nice to write something besides their name. Can you think of something?”

He considered the question for a moment before he uncapped his pen, smoothed the page, and wrote something down. Emerson, thanks for sticking with these characters to the edge of the galaxy and back. Then he added his signature.

“Good,” I said with a nod. “Think of a couple more. That way, every single book doesn’t have the same message.”

He didn’t complain before he slid the book back to me.

“Thank you.” I took the book and set it in the crook of my arm.

He stared again.

“Look at the list.”

He glanced at it before he turned back to me. “Thank you for coming.”

I waved before I walked away. “Okay, let’s try that again. And just some constructive feedback, don’t look like you’re miserable to be there. That’s not a good vibe you want to give. And…maybe smile?”

His stare was ice cold.

“Derek, that’s all you have to do, and people will be happy.”

“What if they ask me something weird?”

“They won’t.”

“People ask me weird shit all the time.”

“Well, I’ll be there, and I can step in if necessary. But people are excited to see you. They aren’t going to do something to make you uncomfortable.”

“What if they want to take a picture with me?”

“Would that make you uncomfortable?”

He shrugged. “I’m not photogenic.”

“Not true. You have a beautiful smile.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I think you’ll loosen up when you stop stressing—and actually have a good time.”

He stared down at the list before he folded it into quarters and slid it into his pocket.

“Be you…and people will love you.”

“Most people don’t love me.”

“Well, I do,” I said immediately. “And if you share that piece of you with others, they’ll love you too.”

He stared at me for several seconds, like he was affected by the words I’d so casually said. He probably didn’t take them literally because it was a figure of speech.

But I meant them literally.

“And when are you going to sign my books?”

He leaned forward over the dining table and rested his arms on the surface. “I’ll get around to it…”

“Because I’m your biggest fan, you know. Would love to display those proudly in my apartment.”

He looked away and rubbed his jawline. “That’s not pressure at all…”

“You work under pressure all the time. And as a result, you shine like a diamond.”

We got to the bookstore early, before it even opened.

And there was a line down the block and around the corner.

Derek turned in his seat as we drove to the entrance, watching the line of people trail into the distance, wearing warm clothes to battle the fall chill as they waited for hours to see him. He faced forward again and released a deep sigh. “Jesus fucking Christ…”

“It’s flattering.”

“It’s daunting, that’s what it is.”

“How many authors would be over the moon if they saw a line like that?”

“If they were a normal person and not an asshole, I imagine they’d be thrilled.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are not an asshole, Derek.”

As if he didn’t believe me, he just shook his head.

Ronnie pulled over to the curb, and we got out. I carried my essentials inside, and when Derek passed the people in line at the door, they immediately started to scream when they saw him.

Derek ignored them and kept walking.

I came closer to him and spoke so only he could hear. “Smile and wave. Now.”

He did as I asked, being quick about it before he darted inside.

The door was locked behind us, and we met the manager of the bookstore before we were guided to the table waiting for us, stacks and stacks of books on the tables behind him and team members from the publisher there too. The book wouldn’t release officially for a few weeks, so that made this signing even more exclusive.

“See? Was that bad?”

Derek shrugged.

His mom and dad were already there, sitting at the table talking as they enjoyed their coffee. When Deacon noticed his son, the affection in his eyes was unmistakable, the same look I gave Lizzie when all she did was smile. He rose from his chair and opened his arms to embrace his son. “Little man…” He hugged his son hard before he pulled away. “You look unhappy.”

Derek shrugged. “It’s just…a lot.”

Deacon patted him on the shoulder and gave a nod. “Yeah, I understand. Your