THIS IS THE LAST TIME I WILL EVER BE Jessica Stone and, starflame, am I going to make it count. The panel is about to begin, and I’m pacing back and forth in the small space behind the curtains that block the audience from our waiting area, chewing on my thumbnail because, screw the rules, I have pink hair. You know, under my wig. Hidden.

It’s still pink, okay?

This is it. Our moment of glory. We’re on the edge of it. Just waiting.

On the other side of the waiting area, Vance Reigns flirts with one of the volunteers, and I restrain myself from losing the fries I ate back at the diner.

I check my phone. Three minutes before the panel. I’m trying not to hardcore freak out but honestly? It’s much harder than I thought it’d be. One, I’m playing with my new friend’s career, and two, I really hope things go according to plan.

I should’ve warned Jess that my plans usually fall spectacularly to pieces.

Nah.

“Something eating you?”

I jump at the voice and look up from my phone. Darien is standing in front of me, all glorious black curls and long eyelashes and warm brown eyes. I wait for my fangirl senses to kick in and freak out but…they don’t. Ethan’s eyelashes are much longer.

What am I doing? This isn’t an eyelash-length competition. Weirdo.

I put my phone away and clear my throat. “Well, um. You know, just the usual.”

He nods. “Uh-huh.”

From across the room, I hear Vance chuckle at something the volunteer says. It’s smooth like honey and makes my entire body go rigid. I can’t believe I fell for that—for him. How naive could I be?

Darien glances over his shoulder at Vance and then back at me. “You know, he disguises himself pretty well for a bag of dicks.”

My eyes widen. “Darien.”

“I can say it,” he replies, and takes a bottle of water offered by a volunteer. “He’s a piece of trash. He shouldn’t have tricked you like that.”

He’s in on the plan, too. After apologizing to Ethan, Jess’s second order of business was to find Darien because we couldn’t pull this off without him. Jess shot him a text, and we reconvened in Jess’s suite so she could freshen my makeup. By the time we made it back to Jess’s suite, Darien and a girl with crimson hair were waiting outside her door.

She had grinned at us—that kind of troublemaking grin I recognized from the gossip news proclaiming her Geekerella—and brandished a box of red hair dye. “So who needs to become a princess?”

And that is how I met Elle Wittimer.