I pour the water into the coffeemaker and turn it on.

“Make yourself at home,” she tells me, but I’m not exactly sure how to do that. I feel like strange sharp edges right now, catching on everything I rub against. So I just sit down at the table that she prepared. “Do you want anything to drink? We have…” She pops open the minifridge and assesses the contents. “Bottled water, sparkling champagne—but oh, you’re underage, aren’t you? Seventeen, right?”

“Nineteen,” I say without thinking, and then bite my lip. I shouldn’t have corrected her. I should’ve just said yes, but…

“Oh!” She laughs and shoots me a look. “Eighteen.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but it’s weird. Since I’m so, you know, internet famous quote-unquote,” she says, “because of my trash Tumblr, everyone expects me to be thirty or something. It’s like we can’t be successful young.”

“Or if we are successful young, it’s through a fluke or luck or happenstance and not hard work—and yeah, some of it is luck or a fluke, but not all of it. You have to have at least a little talent, too.”

“Unless you’re a Kardashian,” Harper deadpans.

I snort, having met the youngest of them. “I’ll have a Diet Coke if you have one?” I say instead.

She hands me one from the minifridge. The coffeemaker begins to hum and drip hot water into the pot. She tears open the noodle cups and picks out chopsticks and a plastic fork from her bag, arranging them on the table in front of me. She’s so thorough. I could watch her for hours.

I pick up a teal teddy bear, one of its eyes missing.

“Oh, that’s November. I never go anywhere without him,” she says. “He’s my travel companion.”

“We always need one of those. Mine’s—” I catch myself before I say Ethan, because Imogen doesn’t have Ethan, Jess has Ethan. “Mine’s a good book,” I finish lamely.

She laughs. “Different ones or the same?”

“Same. It’s my favorite. Dog-eared and spine cracked. What kind of books do you read?”

“Manga mostly, some French comics. There are some great webcomics out there—I’m also a sucker for a fanfic. There’s this one General Sond fanfic that I shouldn’t like but starflame do I ever. The author, ThornyRose, is ridiculously good.”

“I can’t say I read much fanfic.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn you said you read her.”

“I mean, not lately,” I quickly deflect. “I’ve been busy, you know. With the Save Amara stuff. Do you always bring ramen to the con?” I try to change the course of the conversation, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed.