Fanemies {Coming... Later?}

2 || Fanning the Flames

At the sniffle she fakes following that, I roll my eyes, but my chest feels lighter. I grin. The conversation continues like that. Easy, light. I relax, fall into my old skin as Tristen Kelley, best friend of Vivian Ross. We're second-cousins as well, but that has always felt too distant a term. My life has been a mess of activity primarily over the last few months, but still, I've missed this.

All too soon, it has to end. The office door pushes open further, and the weathered-faced, salt-and-pepper-haired owner of the smile smiles warmly in at us.

"I hope my room has given you the space you needed?"

Her appearance here has me looking at the clock. It is five minutes until three. I swallow down the deep sigh building in my chest. It is time.

"Yeah. Thank you very much, Mrs. Schneider. For hosting this and for giving me some peace first," I say.

She waves a hand. "I would have been driven crazy if I opened early. I'd have had so many people milling inside my shop or trying to search through it for you. Really, it was more for my benefit than yours." She looks me over, a sparkle in her eyes. "And it is the least I could do for my favorite little boy who used to always sit in here after school and read my books for free."

I blush at that. Mrs. Schneider has long held a sense of pride, happy that allowing me to 'mooch' from her by reading her books in the store had helped foster my love for all things fiction. She was also the first one to sell The Heartsworn Saga.

I don't know why the things those from my hometown do continue to surprise me, but every day in Fairsky continues to blow my mind.

The three of us walk out of the office together. My photo is displayed on the back flap of my books, and I've been to a few interviews, but my face has never been all that known. Still, a cheer goes up from the crowd, meaning that my face is more widespread or that those outside are making a pretty sound educated guess that the only young guy they've seen in the shop that day is Tristen Kelley.

My agent sits beside the signing table. Jada Powell is an intimidating middle-aged woman in her prim black blazer, crimson undershirt, and high heels sharp enough to poke your eyes out. Her curly black hair fans out around her, with red lipstick as bright as her shirt standing out beautifully from her dark brown skin. She'd been scrolling through her phone, but at our approach, she beams, and that scary appearance fades.

The wonderful, caring lady who has helped my dream come true appears from the mask built to make it in the publishing world.

"You ready for your fans, Tristen? Oh, don't give me that look." She rolls her eyes even as she continues to smile.

I avert my gaze. "What look?"

"The uneasy one you get every time I say fans." She waves her phone in the direction of the window. "Even after everything, even with that out there, can you still argue with me?"

Mentally, I do argue, but aloud I sigh and say, "I'm as ready as I'm going to get."

I know she doesn't miss my evasion of her question, but she sits back in her seat anyways. "Alright then. The throne is yours, Mister Popularity."

My "throne" is a normal chair, but the area around it is decked out in Heartsworn merchandise. A brilliant red and gold flag hangs behind it, then a cutout of Garret and Zekel stand on the right, weapons drawn, while Alysia stands downcast on the other side, the Daeyas Lord hanging over her in his cloaked form. The cut-outs symbolize things to come in the next book.

A mountain of books piles high on the side of the desk closest to Garrett while the other features a couple of funko pops and a few pieces of small, propped-up laminated fanart. I run my hands over the books—The Heartsworn Oath, where the saga began, featuring three brand new shorts in the back dedicated to each main character and a cover exclusive to this event.