I wasn't supposed to be there at the festival. After dinner with Brad my mom banned me from leaving the house. She even called Devon's mom to make her send me home. But following rules wasn't my strong suit.

What I wasn't expecting was Mom and Brad coming down there to look for me. Honestly, it was overkill. I left a note saying when I'd be back. Didn't know why she was making such a big deal about it.

What was supposed to be a stress free day turned into a game of hide-n-seek. Thankfully these book festivals were always packed, making blending in with the crowd easy.

The downside was that it also made my mom and Brad harder to spot. At any moment they could just appear and I'd be dragged home by my neck.

"Are you a criminal on the run?"

I turned my attention back to the light skinned girl I ran over earlier. We were still in line waiting for some author to sign her book. I probably should've left her alone, but she was a Sasha Keaton fan. Those were hard to come by these days.

Sasha Keaton hadn't published a book in three years and before that she never did in person promotion for her books-no book signings or school visits or a single social media page. No one even knew what she looked like.

She was one of those low-key authors who just published her books and kept to herself. Because of her silence over the years her popularity had declined. She still remained one of favorites, though. And that girl seemed to share my opinion.

Now, she looked up at me expectantly through her purple rimmed glasses that matched her sneakers. She kept having to brush her thick curls out her face every time a breeze blew through.

I jokingly narrowed my eyes at her. "First I can't read, now I'm a criminal? I'm starting to feel like you're profiling me for being Black."

"I'm also Black," she said, making a face.

I shrugged. "All my skinfolk ain't kinfolk."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head, but I could tell she was holding back a smile.

"I only asked because you look paranoid," she explained.

"Well, I-" I looked over my shoulder again. That time I saw them. Buff Brad and my mom scanning the crowd. I noticed mom had a tote bag from a publisher and wondered if chasing me down there was a ploy to get to the festival while keeping her image intact.

I ducked down, pretending to tie my shoe. The girl looked even more concerned. Either that or I was starting to scare her. I had to tell her something, just not that I was hiding from my mom. My dignity was at risk.

"I'm not a criminal." I told the girl, looking up at her. "You see that muscled out dude with the woman in green dress?"

She looked up, nodding when she spotted them. "Who are they?"

"I think the dude is experiencing roid rage," I lied. "I bumped into him, scuffing up his kicks and now he wants to beat my ass."

"Wow, you're just running into everyone today," she said, smirking a bit. "You can get up now, though. They went the other way."

I stood, double checking that the cost was clear. My shoulders relaxed.

"You know, you could tell security or something," she suggested. "They could remove him. Then you wouldn't have to hide behind me."

"Nah, it's not that serious." We were inching closer to the front of the line when something occurred to me. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" Her brown eyes doubled in size behind her glasses. She cleared her throat looking down at the book hugged to her chest. "I mean, I don't mind the company. Also, I've never met a Sasha Keaton fan. Especially not one who's a-"

"Illiterate criminal?"

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope."

"Anyways," she said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I meant a boy. I don't know any guy who reads romance."

A short girl with rainbow hair walked over, handing the girl I was talking to a sticky note and a pen. She instructed her to write her name on it and stick it inside the book. To speed up the signing process I guessed.

I watched as the girl wrote down her name then hand the pen back.

"Waverly?" I said once the rainbow haired girl walked away.

She let out a small gasp. "You really can read."

"You're starting to hurt my feelings," I laughed. "I'm Stephen, by the way."

"Stephen," she said, testing it out. "I guess I can stop calling you Tall Dude in my head."

I cocked my head to the side. "What exactly have I been doing in your head?"

Her eyes widened slightly. She averted her gaze just as she was called up to meet the author, whose name was Jenn Bennett. Waverly gushed about some character named Porter as she got her books signed.

We waited in line for fifteen minutes for an interaction that seemed to be over in mere seconds. Waverly seemed happy about it though, as she stared at the name scribbled in gold sharpie. She was grinning. Hard. It was cute.

"So, what's next?" I asked her. "Need another book signed?"

"No, Jenn Bennett was the last author here I wanted to meet," she said, squinting up at me. "I have a dozen new books and autographs from some of my favorite authors. I've done everything I came to do, so I'm thinking of calling it a day."

I wasn't ready for her to leave yet. I was usually at this event on my own, it was nice having someone to talk to. Besides, we haven't even talked about Sasha Keaton.

Instead of voicing any of that, I dumbly said, "Oh." The hell did that even mean?

She didn't move. Just stared up at me, chewing her lower lip like she wanted to say something. Did she want to stay? Did she want me to ask her to stay?

I was doing a lot of thinking. Over analyzing. That didn't normally happen. Most girls I found myself around were easy to read. Zero thought required.

With other girls I just acted. I didn't wonder if asking for their number was the wrong move or if they'd think it was corny of me to say I was having fun and didn't want it to end.

Exactly, I thought. I didn't have to think about my approach to girls. What made this one any different?

"Do you have to?" I said before talking myself out of it. "Leave, I mean."

She pulled her phone out to check the time. "The festival doesn't end for another two hours. I guess I can hangout until then."

"Cool." I strained to keep my face neutral.

"Since you're the expert here, what do you suggest we do next?"

I gave it some thought. She clearly didn't need any more books. Maybe there were some booths giving out merch. As a reader you could never have too many bookmarks.

"Or we could leave."

My gaze snapped back to her. My mind went places at her suggestion. Places like an empty classroom or car. "Leave?"

"For food," she added quickly. Ducking her head, probably realizing how suggestive she sounded. "There's a pizza place up the street. We should go."

She was walking away before I could reply. Falling into step beside her, I asked her the question that had been burning at the back of my mind.

"What are your top three Sasha Keaton's?"

Her face lit up. "Well, obviously, number one is Some Hearts Lie."

• • •

Talking to someone about a shared interest was like having a glass of water after wondering a desert for hours. The conversation flowed from books to movie adaptations of those books to how the world needed more Black authors like Sasha Keaton publishing books about Black Joy.

Outside of Devon, I couldn't remember the last time I had a conversation with someone and not wanted to zone out.

Everything Waverly said I was interested in. Even when she said Foolish Summer was her least favorite Sasha Keaton book I listened to her very wrong reasoning.

"Why are you making that face?" She asked, picking a pineapple from her pizza and popping in her mouth.

"I'm just trying to figure out if we read the same Foolish Summer."

"I'm sorry, but Kev was a boring love interest," she said. "It ruined the whole book. Bad boys are more interesting."

The noise from the busy pizza place dulled as I gazed at her from across the table. That girl was full of surprises.

"What now?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. "Your staring is hard to decipher."

"I just didn't peg you as someone who liked the whole Bad Boy thing." I sipped my soda. In all honesty, from the glasses, to the unruly hair, to the bags of books, she looked like the textbook definition of a nerd. A good girl who wanted a good boy.

Someone who was the complete opposite of me.

She shrugged. "I like the angst. You know, that unspoken tension between two characters? Where, instead of the guy telling the girl how he feels, he does something stupid to sabotage himself because his feelings for her scare him."

Her eyes fluttered shut like she was remembering one of her favorite scenes from a certain book. Her head was tilted slightly up at the ceiling, a small smile on her lips. She looked completely in her element.

Would it be weird to take a picture? I wondered to myself.

"And then that first kiss happens," she continued, eyes still closed."Then..." Her eyes popped open. Panicked. Like she just remembered we were in a crowded restaurant. "Well, you get the point. Foolish Summer was missing that."

"I get that," I said. "I mean, you're definitely still wrong about Foolish Summer, but I can see how you came to have such a wrong opinion."

She shook her head. "Have you checked the Goodreads? I wasn't the only one who thought that."

"Goodreads is full of miserable people who would leave a one star review on every story just because." Seriously, I hated that site.

"I don't know what to tell you," she said, finishing off her pizza. "That book was so boring and forgettable. I can't even remember their first kiss. And my brain is like a kissing index."

I snorted. "Weird thing to brag about."

"You know what I meant." Her cheeks turned red. When she suddenly stood, my amusement stopped. "I'll be right back."

After she left out of the restaurant I was worried she was ditching me. Then I remembered that she left all her books.

Some Hearts Lie stuck out from one of the totes. How could she pick that book over Foolish Summer? I remembered that kiss scene and all the dates and moments that lead up to it. Sure, the book had a lot less drama, but it was still a good book.

A light bulb went off over my head. It was a stupid idea. Waverly claimed to have read all of Sasha Keaton's books at least twice, it wouldn't work. But she did say she couldn't remember anything that happened in Foolish Summer...

What if I recreated all the scenes from the book? What if I showed her that a nice guy could be even better than an emotionally immature bad boy? What if-

Tap! Tap! Tap!

I looked out the window to my left. Waverly was crouched down in the bushes, motioning for me to come out. Weird.

I grabbed her books and met her on the side of the building. "What happened?"

"What? Nothing? It was crowded in there and we were taking up a table," she reasoned. It still didn't explain why she chose to hide in the bushes instead of coming inside to tell me that. "What do you want to do now?"

That single question solidified my decision. I was going to give her the real life Foolish Summer experience. "Do you want to see a movie?"

//

Hi! Hello! Have I mentioned how much I'm enjoying writing this??

How do you think Stephen's plan is going to play out?

Waverly was acting a little weird at the end there, why do you think that is?