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“Don’t worry,” she snickered. “That’s E’s startled I’m-going-to-kill-you scream.”
As soon as she said that, Liam could be heard gasping for air.
“Liam doesn’t ever breathe when he’s laughing and then he ends up sounding like a wheezing hippo,” I chuckled.
“That, or E socked him in the gut. Maybe we should go check on them,” she suggested good-naturedly.
“And ruin their fun?”
She seemed to consider my question before saying, “We don’t need a real murder to taint this area…”
I rubbed at my chin, thoughtfully amused. “After you.”
Chapter 12
Lucy
Portland
“Lucy! Venti hazelnutlatte!” My name was called raucously over the din from the coffee shop. If I hadn’t been standing so close to the counter, anticipating my drink order, I’d never have heard it. Not with the other orders being placed, called out, the whir from the espresso machine and the dull thuds from coffee grounds being tamped down.
There were also a lot of con-goers that apparently had the same idea as me: caffeine in the late afternoon was a fabulous pick-up.
The rich aroma of freshly ground beans was almost enough to give me a temporary jolt; I wasn’t necessarily tired, but I was somewhere between lagging and lackluster.
I slept well last night. The impromptu excursion had been fun and it was a nice change of pace. The fresh air had done me some good, revitalizing me after being in a hotel all day.
But perhaps it was the company too. Besides Liam and E going at it like cats and dogs, Jake and I talked. Liketalked. And I felt like we shared a moment.
Now that we had gotten the basics about each other out of the way, I could have spent the entirety of the night just conversing with him. There was an ease about him, something in the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle like delicate tissue paper whenever he’d laugh or the way the lighter flecks in his eyes would disappear whenever he was intently listening.
It could’ve been in the way he carried himself, confident but never arrogant. Or the way that his five o’clock shadow added to his already crushing good looks. And anyone with ovaries could see the breadth of his shoulders were every bit as impressive as Jason Mamoa’s.
Jake was incredibly easy to look at. Yes, he was a gorgeous package. But I was learning that whatever was on the inside was just as brilliant as the wrapping, if not better.
My shift had ended a bit ago. E’s panel would be done in a half hour and the plan was to grab something quick to eat before the cosplay competition.
The latté would tide me over and I relished the way the hazelnut flavor lingered long after I had taken a tepid sip.
While waiting, I found myself once again wandering the floor. Knowing there was much more to the convention than what I had seen from my limited bubble thus far, I headed up the escalator to the top floor.
Stepping off behind a group dressed asThe Princess Bridecharacters, there was a sign that readArtist’s Alley.
Having not even made it to the entrance, I got a call from E.
“Hey, I’m starving.”
“Hi to you too,” I patronized good naturedly.
“There’s an Italian restaurant a few blocks down,” she rushed. A muffled voice could be heard and E followed it up with, “Thanks, see ya guys tomorrow.” The full volume of her voice returned. “Sorry, want to meet me at my room and then we’ll go?”
“Sure thing. See you in a few,” I agreed.
After changing her shoes to something much more suitable to walk in, E and I headed out.
Dinner had been a bit of a wait since everyone and their dog seemed to have the same idea of eating at a restaurant and forgoing deli food or scarfing down another Subway sandwich from the bowels of the lobby.
By the time we got back to the hotel, we hoofed it to the fifth floor where the cosplay competition was being held in one of the larger ballrooms.
