Page 105 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“Put it out there. Ideas are sticky things, but once you get the dumb ones out of the way, the good ones start to flow.” Adam inhales another taco. “Go on. Try it.”
“I thought I’d have better clothes. But my closet is stuffed with pantsuits and sweats.”
“You’re right. That’s stupid.”
I laugh. “I thought I would have friends who keep in touch, and not just when they want free legal advice.”
“Ouch,” Adam says.
Exactly. “I thought I’d be happier. I thought I’d know what I value. What I like. What I find meaningful. I thought that I’d be playing on a winning team. But instead, all I feel is time is slipping away. Who even knows if I’ll be able to…”
“What?” Adam asks.
“Make a difference in this world.”
“Look at that,” Adam says. “Bea wants to make the world a better place.”
I laugh. “One happy FroggoDoggo at a time.” But maybe there’s something here for me to sift through later. “So what’s up with this girl? Your Catstrike, I take it?”
“Her name is Sarah Miller, but yes, she’s my Catstrike. Have you met her?”
“Not yet. Stacey always has me working the front when I pick up shifts. But I’ve seen pictures.”
“She’s a distance runner, a business major at SDSU, and works the most awesome, caring underground preschool at the Fit Gym 24.”
“An underground preschool?”
“She has an entire curriculum for every single kid whose frazzled parent drops them off at the gym for ninety minutes. And she knows her comics, but that’s sorta a sore spot. Cosplay wasn’t all fun and games, and…” Adam groans. “I think I spooked her, and then I got defensive and worried that she was using me.”
“Was she?” I watch him carefully.
Adam laughs. “No. She actually thought I was a player.”
I snort. “You?” I rummage through the takeaway bags for the drinks. “You can totally turn that around.” My mouth is on fire from these chicken wings.
“I’m trying, but it’s a delicate situation.”
“Women are not spun-sugar flowers.” I toss Adam a ginger ale before opening one for myself. “Or chocolate cakes. Have you talked it out?”
“I’m going to talk to her at Homecoming this weekend.”
“Attaboy.” I clink my bottle of ginger ale to Adam’s and take a sip. It really is a fantastic drink. “Let me know how it goes. And throw Mom a bone. She’s having a fit about whether or not you are bringing a plus-one to Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah, well, you aren’t exactly in the clear with her either.”
“Believe me. I know.”
“You work things out with your landlord?”
“You stinker. And yes, we’re friends.” I rise.
Adam does too. He gives me a hug. “Thanks for the tacos and wings.”
“Anytime.”
Chapter 32
I spend so much of my day thinking about how I should talk to Mike. But then I don’t, or I won’t, and so I just feel that much worse about everything. I should have said good morning. I should have found a reason to invite him over for tea. I should. I like Mike. My eyes take pleasure in just his appearance. My neurons light up when I’m close. Talking with him is fun. And, of course, there is the fact that the crush I’ve been nursing for months has grown into something deeper and stronger.
