“She’s not wrong,” Darien adds, giving me another unreadable look. “And I’m here because I’m the only one of us who actually watches the show, but apparently…”

“Oh no, I haven’t watched it,” I quickly lie. “I read the Wikipedia.”

“Ah.”

Calvin slaps him on the shoulder. “Thanks for taking one for the team, buddy!”

Our moderator—a chipper older woman with pastel rainbow hair—calls us over, telling us that we can make our way onto the stage. Calvin goes first, and I begin to follow, but then I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I jump.

It’s Amon Wilkins.

He grins, all Hollywood-white teeth and dashing surfer-bro swagger, looking like he could be in the next remake of Point Break. “So, how’re you enjoying the con so far?” he asks, putting his phone into his back pocket. The moment he does, it dings with a notification.

Then again, and again—and a shadow of annoyance crosses his eyes, until he decides to ignore it. His gaze settles on me, prompting me to answer.

I snap out of my stupor. “Um—yeah—great! Much great. Very fine. Wow.”

Oh, starflame, I’m supposed to be acting like Jessica Stone, not Doge.

Amon laughs and squeezes my shoulder, and a weird feeling reverberates through me as his phone lets out another series of dings. He is going to silence that before the panel, right? No one likes those people. “Hope the reading material was to your liking. I have a feeling today is going to be great. I’ve got a killer surprise,” he adds, and follows Calvin up the stairs to the stage.

Reading material? Was Jess—I mean me—supposed to read something for this panel?

Darien lingers on the steps, waiting for me. I quickly put my hands on my hips, elbows out, praying that he doesn’t notice how badly I’m sweating and that this is just…a pose I struck. Just to strike it. Because Jessica Stone doesn’t sweat. She barely breathes.

Oh starflame. My cover is so blown.

But as I make my way up the stairs, he does the weirdest thing—Darien Freeman loops his arm through one of mine. “You’ll be fine,” he whispers, and leads me onto the stage like…

Like we’re friends.

I know a lot about Darien Freeman and Jessica Stone and Calvin Rolfe. I follow the gossip blogs and watch TMZ. But somehow it never crossed my mind that Darien and Jessica could be friends. Well, that anyone could be Jessica’s friend. Not because she’s mean or curt or aloof (though she is kind of all of those things, but who can blame her?) but because…

I don’t know.

Of course they’d be friends.

And for a moment I feel like an imposter again—someone who’s stepped into someone else’s life undeserving.

Why am I so nervous?