MILO OPENS THE DOOR TO OUR room and leans against the doorframe. “Lost your key, eh, sister dearest?”

I scowl and push inside and he closes the door behind me. I dump the vegan tacos on the desk, put the remaining coffees beside it, and sink down onto one of the queen beds. Bran and Milo have the other one, but I doubt they’ll be sleeping here. They’re already packing for a night out watching Demolition Man. There are entire convention rooms where they play sci-fi and fantasy movies all night long.

Bran, sitting on the edge of the other bed as he scrolls through Twitter, looks up. And blinks. “Mo, what the hell happened to your shirt?”

It’s only then that I realize I’ve got hazelnut latte trailing down my favorite hoodie. My scowl deepens into the bowels of hell. “I ran into this good-looking guy who turned out to be the spawn of Satan.”

“The Hellmouth has opened.” Milo nods solemnly and shoves a taco into his face. It’s there one minute and then gone the next. Like Pac-Man chomping up those little white dots. I don’t even think he tasted it.

“So,” I go on, tearing my eyes away from Milo as he rips into yet another taco, “I accidentally spilled our drinks all over him, and the dude just went off on me. He was so nasty. I honestly felt like, if the last few years hadn’t made me It’s Fine fireproof, then I’d be a roasted main course of Imogen Lovelace.”

Bran sighs and lounges back on the bed. “That’s a pity. Sounds like it would’ve been a pretty memorable meet-cute. I’ve read it on AO3 at least a dozen times.”

“Right?” I echo his wistful sigh. “But alas, true love has eluded me yet again.”

“Oh merciful heavens,” Milo moans from the chair, the wrapper carcasses of five tofu tacos littering the floor around him like tombstones in a graveyard. He leans back, one hand on his stomach. “I have been revived by tofu and fake cheese.”

“I didn’t take that long,” I say, folding my arms over my chest, and my coffee stain, crossly. “Although I don’t know why you wanted vegan tacos.”

Bran rolls his eyes. “Because it’s from the Pumpkin and your brother is extra.”

“Hey, you’re dating him. What’s the Pumpkin?” I ask, handing him a coffee that he didn’t order but I know he wanted. Americano with extra water.

“You are a goddess,” Bran replies. “You know, the Magic Pumpkin?”

My stare must be brilliantly blank because my brother adds, “The food truck Geekerella worked at?”

I give him a surprised look. “That was that food truck?”

They nod in unison.