tucked in my back pocket, the beginnings of answers jotted down in longhand.
I spend the morning pretending I’m at BookCon with Grams. I peruse the stands for all the major publishers and my favorite independent presses, attend ARC drops every hour, buy the newest titles released by Grams’s imprint, and keep my eyes peeled for Nash.
I don’t know which are longer, the signing lines or the free tote bag lines, no joke.
I catch a glimpse of Lola Daniels signing ARCs and I just about pass out because whoa. Authors are everywhere. Industry people too. Like, as I’m scanning the crowds for Nash, I look the other way and make eye contact with Kristen Ellis, an agent I follow on Twitter.
“I think I know you from Twitter,” I say.
Kristen raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I’m Halle,” I hold out my hand. “From One True Pastry. Better known as Kels.”
Recognition flashes in her eyes—thank goodness—and she takes my hand. “Oh! You did Grace Tran’s cover reveal last year. Your cupcake cakes are amazing. It’s so nice to meet you!”
“Thank you,” I say. “Seriously.”
“Can I get a selfie for Instagram?” Kristen asks.
I blink, processing the fact that a literary agent wants to take a photo with me. “Of course.”
Now that Kels has a face, there’s really no point in hiding it. We pose for the photo and Kristen tags me in her Insta story before we part ways. Wow. That was so cool.
I was so cool.
The Javits Center is overflowing with book lovers on a mission to attend their top panels, to meet their favorite authors. Everyone is so hyperfocused on their carefully curated schedules. I continue to explore the show floor as just a teen who loves YA, like everyone else.
But Nash, the boy who is always everywhere, isn’t anywhere.
At noon, I attend the Superheroes in YA panel because I’m certain he’ll attend. The conference room is packed with more than two hundred people—but as far as I can tell, not Nash. I slip out of the room before the panel starts.
I text Sawyer.
He is here, right? This isn’t a joke?
12:05pm
Sawyer Davidson
No but that’s a good idea for next time!
12:07pm
I double back to the Empire Publications booth, since it’s in the center of everything. On one side of me, a large group of hopeful teens and aggressive parents are battling for a box of ARCs. On the other side, people are receiving exclusive tote bags.
It’s chaos.
I am surrounded by chaos.
Breathe.
“… I can’t believe he drew a panel for you!”
“… you better save that for when he’s famous …”
I turn toward a group of tweens squealing at a piece of folded- up notebook paper. The girl holding the paper has long red hair and is in a NIMONA T-shirt. The other two are taller, both in graphic tees featuring their favorite comic book characters.
Red holds the piece of paper to her chest and sighs. “He’s so cool.”
“Chill, Lana. He’s just a blogger.”
Lana’s face turns as red as her hair. “Shut up and be jealous.”
“Hey,” I say, without quite thinking about it too hard. I don’t insert myself into other people’s conversations. But when I see the sketch, I see the swirl signature.
It’s a Nash original.
“Can you tell me where you met him?”
The tweens eye me suspiciously.
“I’m his friend.”
Lana crosses her arms. “Sure.”
If he just did this—Nash could literally be right here.
I need these girls to talk.
“Wait.” Lana’s eyes narrow.
She nudges the blonde girl and they start whispering to each other. Blonde girl pulls out her phone and opens Twitter. She shows the screen to Lana and their eyes widen.
“Kels?”
I smile. Yes. “Hi.”
“OTP totally got me through seventh grade,” Lana says and I die because—well, that matters. Lana points in the general direction Nash went after they’d met. I thank her profusely, for reading, for helping, for all the things. She asks for a selfie and if I can sign one of her bookmarks.
I am somehow a star. It’s so weird. But amazing.
Lana sends me to the back end of the Empire booth, where I see staffers lining people up for the next signing. The queue is long, wrapping around the corner and winding back toward the autographing area where Michael Yoon is. The graphic novelist that Nash came here to see.
Oh my God, Nash is totally in this line. My palms turn slick and all the papers fall out of my hands. Cursing under my breath, I bend over and collect my stuff, shoving all loose papers into one of one my five tote