I slam the door behind me, leaving like a companion from the Tardis, because the doors close exactly the same, abandoning me in the universe.

Alone.

DAY THREE

SATURDAY

“You were warned about me, ah’blen.”

—Princess Amara, Episode 54, “Nox and Forever”

Jess

I PULL MY—WELL, IMOGEN’S—BADGE OVER my head as I hop on the escalator and head up to ExcelsiCon. The showroom floor doesn’t open for another ten minutes, so that means I have time to grab coffee from the hotel café and find Harper’s—and my? Imogen’s?—booth. My cheekbone is still a little sore, but concealer has covered up most of the gross bruising. My face should hurt more and I should feel much sleepier than I do, but honestly bliss is the best pain reliever.

The last few hours feel like a waltz across the stars. I never want to come back down.

Harper and I stargazed until just after midnight, when she had to go check on the Stellar Party, and I ended up falling asleep in her bed before she returned. This morning, I woke up to her in bed with me, looking at me from where she lay on her pillow, the distance between us like one star to the next—lightyears traveled in a single breath. She smiled and I burrowed my head into the covers and tried to stop my heart from beating so fast.

Harper’s room was not quite as stocked as my suite—they didn’t even have coffee filters—and so she tasked me with a coffee run while she began setting up the booth.

That gave me time to hurry up to my suite in the other hotel and grab an extra pair of clothes; I didn’t want to wear Imogen’s again. I found Ethan asleep on the couch, his phone on the floor. I picked it up and put it on the coffee table and covered him up with a blanket.

Imogen probably stayed in her room for the night. If I’d been in her shoes, I would’ve too.

Without waking Ethan, I took a quick shower and slipped into a pair of jeans and a black hoodie I’d reserved for the plane ride home; I put on a pair of comfortable flats and tucked my hair into my SPACE QUEEN beanie. As I quietly left the suite, I slid Ethan’s glasses back on, the feeling of anonymity settling over me like a soothing balm. No one looked twice at me in the lobby; the morning was cool, the convention halls empty.

Maybe I don’t hate ExcelsiCon as much as I thought.

I decide to take a shortcut across the showroom to the café, thinking that I haven’t even gotten a call from Ethan yet, which is glorious. The Twitter leaker hasn’t posted again either. Everything is so calm.

And I am so, so happy.