Snatching his latest book off of a display, I headed to the back of the store. Dozens of chairs were set up in front of a single podium with every seat occupied. Thankfully, I found an empty spot at the edge of the chairs while I scanned the front of the room. Next to the podium was a table with stacks of books neatly piled on where Derek sat sandwiched between two women, one appearing to be in her late fifties and the other closer to his age. The women were dressed in formal blouses with laptops open in front of them, making me guess they worked with Derek in some capacity.
And Derek was just as mind-blowing in person. I felt my cheeks burn as I stared at him unabashedly. Luckily, he had his attention on something the younger woman was pointing out on the screen to him. He wore a dark green polo with sleeves that strained against his defined arms. His five o’clock shadow was still in place and I wondered if he ever shaved. I hoped not because my fingers longed to touch the roughness of his cheek. His expression was reserved, the serious side I had seen often in his interviews. He never seemed at ease on camera, so different that it was hard to picture him as the same person who made tittle memes for my benefit.
After a couple minutes, the older woman drew herself up and walked over to the podium. While doing a quick mic check, she introduced herself from Derek’s publishing house. “Thank you all for coming today as we introduce the latest chapter in the thrilling New Colony series. The Darkest War sets up the climax between the humans and the people of Sohor. Mr. Walsh plans to conclude the series in book twelve with the last three entries full of shocks that even his biggest fans won’t see coming.” A few snickers in the crowd went over my head. I hadn’t read his books yet, so I had no idea what she was talking about. I read often, but rarely science fiction, so I wasn’t sure if I would like his novels, but I planned to give them a go soon. Maybe his novels could provide invaluable insight into the mind of the author. With a warm smile over to Derek, she said, “I hope you enjoy the reading of the first chapter of The Darkest War.”
The applause sounded thunderous as Derek rose up from his chair and walked to the podium. The crowd edged in and I saw a few camera phones go off as he looked out with a steady gaze into the audience. His fan base was mostly male, but a few women were in attendance too, most holding a copy of his book in their hands.
Before he spoke, I saw Derek take a minute to scan the crowd. I froze. Of course, he had no idea who I was, so I wasn’t sure why I felt so nervous. A neurotic part of my brain thought he would look out and see me and know in an instant who I was. His gaze didn’t linger on anyone and I tried not to feel disappointed. Instead, he took a deep breath and started to read from his book.
He was a good narrator and I hoped he did his own audiobooks. I could definitely get into a sci-fi alien war novel if his sexy voice was reading it to me. He gave the book emotion, which was surprising since he always seemed aloof in interviews. I was entirely focused on him, couldn’t tear my eyes away as he scanned over the pages, his lips reading words that obviously meant a lot to him. I was so enraptured, I failed to notice a heavyset man elbow by me to get a better view. As he pushed around me, I stumbled, losing the grip on my coffee cup and the copy of Derek’s book.
“Shit,” I cursed between clenched teeth as I gave the man’s back a death glare. Irritated, I watched the liquid splatter everywhere, centimeters away from splashing my feet. Luckily, a couple standing next to me, jumped away in time to avoid getting hit. The coffee was half full but enough to soak the carpet and drench Derek’s book. Picking up the book, I grimaced watching the coffee drip down the pages and continue onto the carpet. I had the urge to launch the book at the back of the asshole who now had a prime spot at the front of the room. He never bothered to turn and apologize.
Too late, I noticed a weird quiet around me. My eyes snapped to the front of the room. Derek had stopped reading and was watching me curiously from the podium. Tilting his head, he caught my eye, his forehead wrinkling as if he was trying to figure out what was going on. The rest of the crowd too had noted the scene and was giving me annoyed looks for causing a commotion.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, before turning my head away and giving a vague waving motion to continue. I couldn’t bear to look any longer in his direction, only assuming he was irritated over the disruption. Derek didn’t say anything, but paused for another second. Fuck, I cried silently, what an impression. I had interrupted his reading and annoyed his fans in one fell swoop.
When he continued, a middle-aged man in front of me in one of the chairs rose up. He whispered, “Please take my seat, miss.”
“I couldn’t,” I whispered back.
“Please,” he insisted and I decided to take him up on his offer to avoid any further scenes. I slid the now empty coffee cup and book under the seat, hoping the latter would dry out soon. I hadn’t purchased the book and I would now be stuck with an unreadable copy.
While impossible, I tried to relax again as Derek continued to read. I felt like maybe I should abandon whatever this mission was, but I couldn’t walk away. We were in the same room for the first time. And he had looked at me, saw his A Mystery in the flesh.
Of course, he didn’t know who I was yet. Plus, I wasn’t sure how thrilled he would be to realize his A was also the awkward girl who spilled coffee all over the bookstore.
After he finished reading, there was a short question and answer session moderated by his agent, the other woman sitting at the table. She introduced herself as Pamela Chase and had represented Derek since his second release. Unsurprisingly, questions had been pre-selected. The focus of the signing was meant to be on The Darkest War, not morbid curiosity over the death of Emily Hill.
At the conclusion, the crowd was asked to line up for a signed copy of The Darkest War. Frowning down at my book, I couldn’t imagine asking him to autograph my copy now. Although what could I say if I got in line anyway? I recognized his voice right away on television, so there was a good chance he’d know it was me as soon as I opened my mouth. Asking him to autograph his book for A was cringe-inducing.
Instead of getting in line, I started to peruse the shelves around the signing table. I pretended to scan the titles, while keeping an eye on Derek. Every minute or so, I’d check him out, analyze his body language. He didn’t look at ease with his fans, but he seemed kind to them. To both the men and women, he seemed gracious enough and chatted with each person who stayed in line.
The line was long, but I intended to stay until he was nearly finished. I couldn’t leave yet. Although planning to breeze in and out of the store, I’d gotten stuck in his orbit. He was here and my body refused to leave. After spying on him behind a shelf, I moved along to the other side. With my back to him, I studied the titles, wondering how long until he finished signing all of the books.
A cough sounded nearby, startling me enough I jumped. Spinning around, there stood Derek Walsh. Derek who wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Derek who was still supposed to be signing books for fans—not standing two feet in front of me. I bit back a yelp as I gaped at him.
“Hi,” he said, unaffected. His tone was casual, as if he had no idea my whole body reacted to his nearness. He held up a copy of his book, one he must’ve taken from the table. “I saw your book got ruined, so I brought you over a new one.”
I tilted my head in confusion. “What?” I mumbled my response, aware enough I couldn’t simply talk in my normal speaking voice. My eyes were darting everywhere, my rising panic hard to conceal.
“I saw you spilled coffee on yours, so I brought you a replacement. Would you like it signed?” My anxiety quieted a beat. Derek still had no clue about my identity. He had come over as a kind gesture, not to confront me over my deception.
I shook my head. “No, thanks.” Damn, I sounded weird. I was talking like a poor man’s ventriloquist.
“Okay,” he said slowly, as if I surprised him with my answer. He held out the new copy of the book for me to take. My eyes roved over his defined arms, across his broad che
st, and up to his handsome face. My cheeks were burning. He had to realize what kind of effect he had on women.
I backed away a step, shaking my head. “No, I’ll keep mine.”
His expression told me he was questioning my sanity. “Please, take the new copy. No charge.”
I continued to shake my head adamantly. “But what would happen to this one? I don’t feel right about it. What if it’s thrown out? Seems sacrilegious to trash a book.”
His expression turned amused. I stared at the corner of his mouth, not willing to meet his eyes. I was undone, acting like I had lost my mind. I wasn’t even certain what I was mumbling about. As I tore my eyes away from his face, I noticed he still had a line of fans waiting for their signed books. What the hell? Why was he trying to give me the book when he still had singings to do?
Derek didn’t follow my gaze, evidently unconcerned over his lack of tact. I bit back a smile because the moment felt like signature D. Derek was still talking to me, although I couldn’t focus, only able to remind myself to breathe in his presence. “Did you read it yet?”
“Huh?”
“My book, have you read it yet? If you have, I guess it doesn’t matter if the pages are stained.”
“Umm…no, but it sounds really good.” I inched closer, ruled by instinct. I inhaled, relishing in his scent because he smelled like a freaking Christmas tree. I tried to not be obvious as I breathed him in again. He looked expectant, so I added, “I hope the humans head back to earth.”
He laughed. “You never read any of my books, have you?”
“No, but I like the sound of this one.”
His brow furrowed at my response. “You should probably start with the first in the series. This one may not make much sense otherwise.”
Straightening up, I finally locked eyes with him. I felt like the room disappeared and it was just us for the moment. How easy it would be to reach out and actually touch him, feel his skin on mine, get lost in his embrace. But this moment wasn’t A meeting D. The moment was Derek being nice to a fan who was obviously in the throes of a mental breakdown.
“Your fans await,” I mumbled as I stepped back. The sense of loss was instantaneous—the loss of his nearness, his scent, the warmth of his gaze.
He nodded, glancing back at the line. His agent was motioning in earnest, sending him exasperated looks. I guessed she hadn’t been thrilled with his idea to replace my book. It was good PR, though. He seemed pretty chivalrous by trying to trade out my dingy copy with a new one. Too bad I was a complete weirdo and wouldn’t accept the gesture.
He started to walk away before turning back. “If you change your mind, come and get a new copy from me.”
I let out the breath I had been holding as he retreated. My throat felt dry and I almost felt dizzy from the encounter. Seeing him online wasn’t half as intoxicating, half as powerful. He was close enough to touch. And definitely close enough to open my mouth and admit who I was to him.
Ducking back behind the shelves, I shook my head at my stupidity. What was I doing? What kind of game was I playing? I had come here to scope him out, but to what end? Was I supposed to keep up the phone game with him, pretending I didn’t know he was Derek Walsh? It was unfair. He had been nothing but kind and open with me and I pretty much resorted to stalking.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled out my phone. Of course, he was busy, so it wasn’t likely he’d reply, but still I had to come clean. Did you really want to meet?
I checked through the spaces between the bookshelves to watch Derek. The line was dwindling, but he still had about twenty people waiting to meet him. After he signed a teenager’s book, he picked up his phone on the table. He mouthed an apology as he held up his finger to the next fan. I watched his expression as he scanned the message, trying to read him. He was unreadable as ever, his features not giving anything away.
I watched him type out a reply before turning his attention back to the fans. My phone dinged and I smiled as I saw what he wrote. Of course, I do.
He had stopped a signing to give me a reassurance, when I had done everything in my power to keep him at arm’s length. What was the problem? I was important to him and he was important to me. For the first time, I believed him about us being friends no matter what. He was a good guy, the kind of person who was even nice to a strange girl who ruined his book. And there was an attraction on my side, a very strong attraction to him, but I didn’t want to lose him if he didn’t feel the same way toward me. I’d hold onto the friendship because that was better than not having him at all.
I’m here at the bookstore. It’s a long story, but maybe you could meet me afterward? There’s a coffee bar at the front.
Before I could change my mind, I marched away from the signing, heading to pay for Derek’s book before lingering at the coffee bar. I would leave it up to him if he wanted to meet me. After putting him off for weeks, I just showed up without an invitation. Only he seemed to understand what a mess I was and accepted me anyway.
Derek didn’t respond back, but I still decided to wait a while for him. I ordered two coffees and remembered he drank his black. To distract myself, I opened his book and started to read. The middle pages had gotten the worst of the coffee, so the first few chapters were pretty clean. He was right, I had no idea what was going on, but I did like the story anyway. He was a good writer, starting off with a lot of action and minimizing the fluff. The humans and aliens were in the middle of the Five Hundred Echoes War, which was apparently a long, drawn-out fight for control of Sohor. As I was just about to move onto the second chapter, my heart stopped as I looked up from the book. Because he had come. Derek was walking to the coffee bar and by the way he was staring at me, I knew he had figured out I was A.
I stood up quickly, almost knocking back my chair in my haste. “Hi.” I took a breath before adding, “Well, hi again.”
He didn’t respond, only gaped at me with bewilderment. “A?”
“Yes,” I managed. I cleared my throat, dropping the mumbling tone I had used to conceal my voice earlier. “Well, no, it’s actually Alyssa.” I held out my hand to shake, which he looked down at in bafflement. I hadn’t been sure what else to do. I wanted to hug him, but the move seemed too forward. I drew back my hand as I realized he had no intention of touching me.
“You knew who I was?” His voice was strangled with his dark eyes looking at me in trepidation. The friendly author from earlier had fled the building.
I sank back down into my chair. “Please sit, let me explain.”
He sat down although I could tell he was unsure if he should bolt. “What’s going on?” I hadn’t heard him angry in ages, not since our first actual phone conversation when he realized I had read his messages to Emily. But he was practically livid now, his expression not bothering to conceal his rage. His jaw was locked in anger, like he was forcing himself not to scream at me.
I breathed in to steady myself before I spoke. I wouldn’t fall apart, not when he deserved the truth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who you were at first, I promise. I was working a couple weeks ago and your interview came on TV. I recognized your voice.”
The strain didn’t leave his eyes. He was quiet for a long minute, his head wrapping around my confession. Finally, he asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I should’ve sooner, I’m sorry. When I learned who you were, I freaked out.”
Freaked was putting my reaction mildly, but he knew me. He knew me in the most intimate ways. He understood my propensity to shut down when life became hard.
I watched him study me, take in my appearance fully. I hadn’t dressed up or dressed down because I felt authenticity was important for the occasion. Despite my inhibitions, I wasn’t going to pretend anymore, I had done that for too long with Jake. However, sitting before him made me feel more vulnerable than I wanted. I didn’t want to give a shit about what he thought about me, but I did. And it wasn’t because he was good-looking, it was because he was
D.
Eventually he nodded, as if it was perfectly normal to have an overreaction. “So, you knew of me then?”
I shook my head. “No, but I was filled in quick. I live a few towns over from you and I guess you’re pretty well-known there.”
“You still should’ve told me.”
“I know, but you know how I am. I analyze everything over and over again and need to have a few meltdowns before I can make a rational decision.”
He smirked and I could tell his anger was abating. “This is you being rational?”
“Yes. I had no plans to cause a rumpus at your signing, but I guess I was a tinge bit nervous.” I held up my thumb and forefinger to emphasize.
“I’m glad to see you can speak again. You seemed rather terrified of me earlier.”
I almost burst out in laughter. I hadn’t been terrified, but filled with lust. “You’re a little intimidating, that’s all. When we talked, I didn’t imagine…” I stumbled, trying to figure out the right words. I wasn’t about to admit I didn’t imagine him to be an absolutely gorgeous world-famous author. “I didn’t picture your life to look like this.”
“I could see why you would be put off.” He looked uncertain for a second, the first time I saw his confidence waver. “I was never recognized before…before Emily,” he finished, biting down on his lip. I could tell he wanted to say more, but stopped, looking as if he was considering his next words carefully. Actually, I really didn’t want to talk about Emily, so I was relieved when a man in his late twenties approached our table.
“Hey, man, you’re Derek Walsh, right?” The guy adjusted his black glasses as he spoke, looking slightly unsure if he was overstepping by interrupting our conversation. Derek gave a slight nod, before the man added, “I wanted to buy a signed copy of your book, but I left my wallet at home.”
The Despair of Strangers Page 10