The Geek's Guide to Unrequited Love (21 page)

As Brandon is finishing up illustrating his point to Roxana, Morgan's phone buzzes and his screen lights up. “Whoops, sorry about that!” he says, and immediately hits a key to shut it down. But not before I catch a glimpse of his wallpaper.

It's an enormous horned demon standing in a room full of treasure, looking furious and imposing. I recognize it instantly because I've spent the past five years searching eagerly for it on the Z-men forums. It's the same image as copper670's avatar, the user I was convinced was Zinc in disguise.

I gape at the blank screen where the image appeared, and when Morgan asks if we have any questions, I just know I have to speak up. “Yes. This is a weird one, but . . .” I stare up at him. “Are you copper670? On the Z-men message boards?”

Shock crosses his face, followed by a surprised grin, neither of which he can hide fast enough. Which I guess he realizes, because after a moment he says, “Oh, man . . . you found me out.”

“Oh my God!” Roxy squeals, and we stare at each other, aware that we've just solved an enduring mystery.

“We just really love your fan fic on there,” I immediately gush. “It's our favorite.”

Roxana nods. “In fact, Graham has been swearing up and down that copper670 is really Zinc. Incognito.”

Morgan laughs. “I wish!”

“It's just that good. Seriously!” I defend my assumption. “Though, of course, you are a professional writer. So that makes sense.” I look over a bit smugly at Roxy. Like I was a little right.

She laughs and gives me a small nod of acknowledgment.

“I hate to break up the sleuthing party, much as I'm enjoying this,” Brandon says, “but I'm afraid our time is up.”

“Oh,” I say as I stand. “Thank you so much. You guys were so helpful.”

“Yes,” Roxana says. “We really appreciate it.” We shake their hands, and Roxana grabs our panels as we leave the table.

Heading out of the room, she turns to me. “How did you—”

“I saw the wallpaper on his phone!” I burst out. “It was his avatar.”

She laughs. “Nice work, Sherlock.” The highest of compliments.

“Thank you, John.” I give a little bow.

“So I guess we're not killing off Slammerghini,” she teases. Oh, right. The bet.

“Right,” I say slowly. “I guess you win. But I forgot what you asked for, actually.”

“I'm not sure I had decided yet. . . .” Roxy's voice trails off, and
she's staring into the distance. I wonder if she's remembering it too, the moment I almost kissed her. Maybe now, after everything that's happened, she's seeing it in a different light.

Devin is waiting for us right outside the room. “How did the critique go?” He pounces as soon as he sees us.

I leave Roxana to answer him however she sees fit.

WE EACH END UP AT
different lines at the food court—I'm feeling like a gyro today—but manage to snag two tables near each other. Felicia, Casey, and I sit at one and Roxana, Devin, and Samira at the other.

There isn't too much time before Samira's fan fiction panel, which Roxana says she wants to take her to, so the other group is wolfing down their food. I'm wondering if I should go with them, especially once Devin reveals he has other plans for the afternoon.

“You don't remember what's happening at two thirty?” Casey asks me when I mention this.

“No idea,” I say.

He stares at me, incredulous. “Um, the toy reveal? For
Star Wars
?”

Oh, right. This is a big deal because they're going to reveal one of the brand-new characters in the latest movie via its action figure. Which, of course, I am hereditarily obligated to be very interested in.

After making sure that Samira doesn't particularly care whether I accompany them to her panel or not, I agree to check out the toy reveal. Felicia opts to go with us but asks if we can make a quick detour to the bathroom.

While Casey and I wait for her outside, I see my opportunity and ask about the two of them hanging out so much today.

“I've been trying to find out her weak point all day!” he says, clearly frustrated. “I thought there had to be something I could exploit for my own GPA gain. But there's nothing. She really is damn perfect.”

I laugh. “Oh, is that what you've been doing all day?” I ask, and then, in a burst of inspiration, add, “You know she told me on Friday how funny she thinks you are?”

“Funny?” he says, blinking. “Oh, like, weird.”

“No, dude. Funny. As in humorous and amusing.”

His eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “Really?”

“Really. I think you've managed to charm her.” I refrain from adding the
somehow
, but then the skeptical look on his face prompts me to ask, “What's the matter, Case? You were all gung ho about Callie, and I think we both know that would have gone down in flames before it even started. Felicia is amazing, actually knows you exist . . . and seems to like you.”

Casey frowns and fidgets. “I don't think that can possibly be true,” he mutters.

He looks so uncomfortable that it finally hits me. Of course, Callie is totally unattainable and he knows that—in fact, that's probably her appeal. Someone he can safely worship from afar. The thought of Felicia in front of him is terrifying. A real girl who might like him back? A real opportunity for romance? That's something he can't at all control.

A very small part of me wonders if I haven't been doing the same thing with Roxy. If I haven't always known she wouldn't return my romantic feelings. Did I make her the subject of my fantasies on purpose? But then again, so much about it seemed right and perfect. Like we fit so well as friends that it shouldn't have been this difficult to take it to the next level, just like Samira mentioned. I feel like this really was a story with an ending I could not have predicted—still can't predict.

Felicia comes out of the bathroom. “Ready?” she asks us, throwing a smile in Casey's direction. He nods and then starts to briskly walk away, only Felicia keeps up with him. I watch her lean in to ask him to explain the significance of the toy reveal to her, and I have to smile as I hear his rushed response.

So maybe some nerd really
will
find love at Comic Con . . . it just won't happen to be me.

My phone buzzes and I take it out to read a text from Amelia.
Did you hear about the Zinc make-good?!

I text her back a question mark and she sends me a link.

A dedicated page on the New York Comic Con website explains that to apologize for the mishap at the line for Friday's Zinc event, the NYCC organizers and the film studio are offering a make-good. There will be a special screening of the first twenty minutes of the upcoming
The Chronicles of Althena
movie, followed by a Q&A with director Solomon Pierce-Johnson. Tickets will be given away via a raffle starting at two o'clock. Everyone who shows up in person at the studio's booth will get one raffle ticket. Unless you have a log-in to z-men.net with a history of having posted on there for the past three months. Then they will give you two raffle tickets.

Holy shit.

“Halt!” I yell out to Casey and Felicia immediately, and then explain to them what I've just read. “I think this calls for an emergency schedule switch,” I say to Casey, whose expression looks like he's really grappling with the idea.

But after a moment, he seems to pull himself together. “Yes, I think you're right,” he says. We change course to head over to the studio's booth. On the way, I text Roxy to tell her what's happened, though I don't think she'll be getting out of Samira's panel until three.

When we get there, there's a line snaking around the booth, but it seems to be moving pretty fast, and I notice that an extraordinary number of both studio employees and NYCC staffers are manning this thing. Clearly, they're not taking any chances this time.

The registration process involves using the booth's iPads to log into a
Z-men account, if you have one, and they really do seem to be checking to make sure you're an active member and not someone who just signed up ten minutes ago. Then they scan ID badges to make sure there aren't people trying to scam the system by getting on line multiple times, and they give you one or two raffle tickets, depending on your qualifications. “Be in Room 1C04 at three p.m.,” the girl who gives me the tickets says. “If your number is called, you have to be there in person to get a ticket for the screening.”

I hold on as tight to my two tickets as Charlie Bucket, and then wait while Casey gets two and Felicia gets one. If I knew Roxy's Z-men password, I would have had Felicia log in as her, but, alas, I do not.

“If I win, I'll give mine to Roxana,” Felicia tells me as soon as she gets off the line.

“Thanks,” I tell her.

She looks like she's about to say something but then just shakes her head and smiles instead. “Proxy you're welcome,” she finally responds.

Casey glances at his watch. “I think there might be time to see at least a little bit of the toy reveal,” he says.

But I'm not taking any chances this time. “You go ahead,” I tell him. “I think I want to head over to the raffle room. Just to be safe.”

“I think I'll go with Graham,” Felicia responds, and I'm genuinely surprised she's not going to leave with Casey. But then again, maybe I shouldn't be. Maybe I should give up trying to figure anything out in the romance department, for myself or anyone else. Perhaps there's
something to be said for just sticking with what I know.

As the two of us start to walk toward Room 1C04, I'm suddenly struck by an unpleasant thought. But it's important enough to voice it.

“Hey, Felicia. Can you do me a favor?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can you text Roxy the info about the raffle? Just in case she's blocked my number or something and doesn't get my text?” I vaguely look in the direction of my phone.

“Graham,” Felicia says gently, “she didn't block your number.”

“I know it's not likely,” I concede, “but I just want to make sure she gets this message. You know, things are so weird between us.”

She takes out her phone then and sends a message. “It's just for your peace of mind. But honestly, I know she wouldn't do that.” She hesitates for a moment, choosing her words. “Everything will be okay. I think she's just in shock.”

“Yeah,” I say. This was exactly what Samira said. “I just wish it wasn't so shocking to have someone like me love her.”

“But, Graham, this isn't about someone
like
you. This is about
you.
Like, you, her very best friend,” Felicia protests. “You guys have been a particular unit for a long time, and that's something that's really special to her. And yes, I admit, you've probably been put in a compartment. But it's an important compartment. And now you want to go somewhere else and . . . well, that's hard.”

I think about what she's saying, as objectively as I possibly can. And I
can see her point. If Roxana really had no idea how I felt and I blindsided her—then maybe shock wouldn't be too far a leap as a reaction.

“So do you really think we can be friends again? Like before?”

Felicia mulls this over. “Well, yes. And no. I think your friendship will survive. But I don't know if everything is going to be
exactly
like it was before. But come on, Graham—when is that ever true? We're all constantly changing and evolving and growing up. You're a writer. You should get that more than anyone.”

I nod, letting the wisdom of her words sink in and settle. It's not like they're a cure-all salve, because it's not like I can just shut off my feelings for Roxy. But it's something to chew on anyway.

“Damn, Felicia,” I finally say to her with a small laugh. “You have everything figured out. You really are perfect.”

I expect her to shrug or smile or say something else profound, but she immediately frowns. “Who told you that?” she asks.

I laugh again. “Casey. Me. Um, everyone, actually.”

But Felicia isn't laughing. “Casey, too?” She lets out a puff of air. “I'm
not
perfect,” she says sharply.

Oh, crap, I've clearly said the wrong thing. “I'm sorry . . . ,” I start.

But Felicia sighs. “It's just . . . I've heard that before, and I know it's meant to be a compliment or something, but actually it's a huge burden. It's like setting me up to fail.”

“Felicia, have you ever failed at anything in your life?”

“Of course I have!” she replies. “Maybe not like tests, but I've had
friends who've dumped me, and sports I've been terrible at, and crushes who didn't like me back. . . .”

“You have?” I ask, and I'm truly surprised. Which crush would not like Felicia back?

Felicia shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “No one can live up to perfect, Graham. Not me. Not Roxana. Seriously, you guys need to stop this nonsense. Maybe if you let yourself see us as we really are—you know, human—you wouldn't let yourself get so intimidated. You wouldn't be setting
yourself
up to fail.”

Yikes! I decide not to mention to her that Felicia Obayashi giving me a lecture is, by its very nature, intimidating. But she might also have a point.

We've reached the raffle room, which must be one of the Javits's biggest conference rooms. There are no chairs set up here, just a stage with a podium, and the empty space makes the room look particularly massive. There are already a couple hundred people congregating, and I immediately recognize one very unwelcome Papa Smurf hat among them. “Let's be honest. Friday's panel didn't inspire much confidence in this movie, did it?” the owner of the hat is droning loudly to his friend.