Page 14 of The Law of Attraction
He was staring at her like she’d suddenly sprouted a second set of eyebrows, and she helped herself to one of his fries as a reward for pegging him accurately. “Yes.”
Instead of objecting to her fry theft, he pushed them closer to her. “And you walk around in public like that?” He sounded more surprised than anything. She assumed the judgment would come after he’d gotten over the shock.
“Not like all the time or anything. I only do it at cons, when I’m surrounded by other people in costume too. That’s sort of the point of going, to be around people who share your interests.”
“What kind of costumes do you wear?” The way his eyes traveled up and down her body, she could only assume he was trying to imagine her in some sort of super skimpy, sexy outfit.
She pointed a fry at him accusingly. “Not the sort you’re thinking of, gutter brain.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Because you’ve got that same lecherous look all guys get when they hear I’m a cosplayer and their dirty minds immediately start picturing a slave Leia gold bikini.”
“I was actually thinking more along the lines of chain mail and swords. Or maybe Daenerys Targaryen. You could pull that off without a wig.”
Okay, fine, so he watched Game of Thrones. So did everyone with HBO. It didn’t make him a geek. “Everybody does Daenerys,” she said. “I like to be a little more creative. My specialty is mashups and twists on existing characters.”
“Like what?” He seemed genuinely interested rather than scornful.
“A few years ago I went as a female Fourth Doctor from Doctor Who—before there actually was a female Doctor.”
“That’s the one with the scarf, right?”
“Yeah,” she said, impressed that he knew which Doctor wore the scarf. Could it be—was Adam Cortinas actually a nerd?
Dammit, that was going to make it harder to hate him.
He nodded at the knitting she’d set aside. “Did you knit the scarf yourself?”
She grimaced at the memory. “I did. It was my very first knitting project. Damned thing took me forever.”
“I feel like most people would start out with a pot holder or something simple.”
“Not me. I started with a twenty-five-foot scarf. I do not recommend it.”
It was so strange to be talking to him like this. To have him actually seem interested in what she had to say. Usually, when she talked to him, his face was a mask of boredom and impatience. Like he was waiting for her to finish and go away again.
“What other costumes have you made?”
She described her steampunk Miss Marple costume from last year, and the post-apocalyptic Ruth Bader Ginsberg costume she’d made the year before that, and he seemed almost—impressed? Was that possible?
“So you sew all the clothes and everything yourself from scratch?” He peeled the lid off his soft drink and tipped some ice into his mouth.
“Mostly.” She dug through her purse for a napkin, because he hadn’t brought any with their food. “If I can repurpose an existing garment I will, but usually it’s easier to just make it myself.”
“What are you wearing this year?”
“It’s a mashup of Rosie the Riveter and Ash from Evil Dead.” She’d been working on it for three months, which was why she was so behind on Penny’s birthday present.
“Holy shit,” Adam said. “That’s really cool.”
Olivia had always been a glutton for praise. Growing up as the unexceptional middle child between two overachievers had left her a little recognition-starved, so she couldn’t help glowing at Adam’s approval.
She reached for her knitting in an attempt to hide the color in her cheeks, unable to believe he’d just paid her a compliment—on her super nerdy hobby, no less. Who was this guy and what had he done with the Adam Cortinas she knew and disliked?
“You done?” he asked, waving at what was left of his fries.
She nodded, and he gathered up their trash and carried it to the nearest garbage can. “Scoot over,” he said when he came back.
