{"id":3577,"date":"2010-10-08T09:30:47","date_gmt":"2010-10-08T09:30:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.alertnerd.com\/?p=3577"},"modified":"2011-03-29T03:05:44","modified_gmt":"2011-03-29T03:05:44","slug":"with-violet-light-part-i","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.alertnerd.com\/?p=3577","title":{"rendered":"With Violet Light, Part I"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Hello! So before we begin, let me tell you a couple things. This story (a mini-sequel to my geek novella One Con Glory<\/a><\/em>) was totally inspired by…well, many things<\/em>, but most importantly:<\/p>\n

1. An amazing online discussion about “male Star Sapphires.”
\n2. The Grok<\/a> theme “avatar.”
\n3. Karen Healey’s<\/a> desire to see more of the perma-cheerful Layla Lee.<\/p>\n

It ran previously in an issue of Grok (as did an additional mini-sequel, “My Epic Win”<\/a>) and now I’m serializing it here with a few exciting extras. First off, check out that incredible “Jack and Julie do crossplay” illustration by Mr. Paul “Cool Jerk” Horn<\/a>. So pretty. And as you will see, so key to the story.<\/p>\n

Second, I have a little set of Halloween-themed BPAL<\/a> prototype scents (courtesy of our pal Geek Girl Diva<\/a>) that I’d like to give away in honor of the story’s launch here on the newly-redesigned Alert Nerd. The scents represent the spookier side of Julie’s hometown (San Francisco), Jack’s current city (Los Angeles), and a couple places in between. They are, like most BPAL scents, quite delicious. To enter the giveaway, just @ me on Twitter<\/a> with an explanation of your current avatar (yes, in 140 characters or less).<\/p>\n

Okay? Okay! Let’s go.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u201dSarah Kuhn<\/em><\/p>\n

**<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Shit<\/em>.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I know I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m going to fall on my ass a millisecond before it actually happens. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m running, slipping, tripping my way across the apartment when my stupid feet slide out from under me like they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve been dunked in Crisco and suddenly it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s all, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, hi, hardwood floors, nice to fucking meet you.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

A string of muttered profanities later, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m popping back up and skidding over to the door and flinging it open and drinking in the sight of a phenomenally cute boy in a ratty Silver Surfer t-shirt.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Morning, sweetheart,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he says, bright blue eyes dancing with amusement as they take in my beyond-disheveled form. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153What\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6going on here?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I tug the shirt I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve hastily thrown on over my barely-covered backside and make a fruitless attempt to brush the angry snarl of wet hair out of eyes. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I was, um\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6getting out of the shower when you knocked,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I stammer. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I thought you were coming\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6later? Not that I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m not glad you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re here. I just thought I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d have more time to get ready and\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I trail off as a full-on grin overtakes his face and he steps inside, slipping his arms around my waist, pulling my damp, unkempt form into the irresistible warmth of his body. I melt against him, inhaling the scent of soap and sweat-on-skin, fluttery little sensations blooming in my gut.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I especially like the part,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he says, lips brushing my hair, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153where you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re not wearing pants.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

My face flushes and before I can retort, he scoops me off the ground and into his arms and brings his mouth to mine, hot and sweet and delicious enough to scramble my brain for a few dizzying seconds. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Wait\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6Jack<\/em>,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I gasp, desperately trying to maintain coherent thought as my legs wrap around his waist. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m not\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6let me finish getting\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Dressed?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d His mouth finds a particularly sensitive spot on my neck. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I inhale sharply, the fluttery gut sensations morphing into something decidedly more pornographic. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t have a good answer for that.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

He kicks the apartment door shut and stumbles toward the bedroom with me in his arms, our lips locked together the entire way. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Your bag\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I murmur against his mouth. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6mrpmh\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6still in the hall\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t care,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he breathes as we tumble into bed, a muddle of tangled limbs and half-shed clothes.<\/p>\n

I pull back and study him as he makes quick work of the buttons on my shirt. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hey,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I say softly, reaching up to cup his face in my hands. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Slow down for a second.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I brush my thumbs over the deep, dark circles under his eyes, my brows knitting together with concern. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You look exhausted.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Back-to-back 14-hour shooting days.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He undoes the last button and peels off my shirt. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I walked off the set and got in my car and made a break for it.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What<\/em>\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6you drove all the way up here on no sleep?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I place a hand against his chest. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why would you do that?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

He brushes my still-damp hair off my face, blue eyes giving me that oh-so-earnest look that I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m a total fucking sucker for. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I wanted to see you.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

He kisses me again and all errant worries fall out of my head. I yank his shirt off and skate my fingertips over his back\u00e2\u20ac\u201dhis beautiful, naked back\u00e2\u20ac\u201dthen pull him against me, our bodies twining together, all sweat and heat and oh, God, he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s doing that with his tongue that he knows I\u00e2\u20ac\u201d<\/p>\n

BOOM-BOOM<\/em>.<\/p>\n

We freeze, mid-makeout. I frown in the direction of the front door, which seems to be on the receiving end of a rather thunderous knock. He follows my gaze. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you expecting\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Shhh.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I press a finger to his lips. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Maybe they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll go away.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

BOOM. BOOM-BOOM. BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!!!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Or not,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I growl through gritted teeth. I reluctantly untangle myself from him, throwing on my discarded shirt and a random pair of shorts.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Tell them you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re in the middle of\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6doing something.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Jack grins lazily and leans back against the pillows, hands clasped behind his head, mouth-watering chest on full display. I hear myself whimper a little.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t move,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I command, stomping into the living room.<\/p>\n

I throw open the door and am greeted by the sight of a morose figure clad in a flannel shirt mis-buttoned over a coffee-stained tank. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I haven\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t had sex in three days,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she blurts out, her delicate features twisting into a mask of from-the-gut distress. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Um, also\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6did someone lose a bag?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She proffers Jack\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s abandoned duffle.<\/p>\n

I let out a slow, supposed-to-be-calming breath. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Layla. You have no idea how not sympathetic<\/em> I am to you right now.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Her big, doe eyes fill with tears. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Can I come in? Please<\/em>?!?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I snatch the duffle from her and open the door a little wider. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Fine. But this better be seriously epic. Like, Tigh-finds-out-he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s-a-Cylon epic.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

She sweeps in, all long limbs and balletic grace, her off-kilter elegance somehow enhanced by her messy appearance. Then she whirls around, hands shooting out to lock my shoulders in a death grip. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You<\/em>,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she breathes, still-teary eyes narrowing suspiciously. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You<\/em> had sex recently.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Her head twists as she wildly scans the room, evoking unpleasant Exorcist<\/em>-type imagery. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Is Jack here?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153First of all: ow,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I say, batting ineffectually at her claw-like fingers. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Your Hulk-on-fucking-steroids strength never ceases to amaze me. Second of all: Yes, he is. And I would be having probably amazing sex right now if you hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t interrupted. So if you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re making it some kind of bizarre mission to perceive when people last copulated\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6well, your sexdar is broken.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I call it my \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcsex sense,\u00e2\u20ac\u2122\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she says sagely.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I like \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcsexdar\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 better. Now what, exactly, is so damn important? Because three days isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t that long for most people and isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t Mitch out of town for the weekend anyway?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Auuuuugggggggh.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d With that anguished cry, Layla pirouettes herself onto my rickety couch and slumps over in defeat, deflating like a sad little balloon.<\/p>\n

I try for another long, calming breath. Really not working, especially since all I can think of is Jack\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hand stroking its way down my\u00e2\u20ac\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What the frak<\/em> is wrong with me?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she moans, raking her fingers through her birds\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 nest of hair.<\/p>\n

I goggle at her. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Excuse me, but did the queen of pop cultural ignorance just correctly use \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcfrak\u00e2\u20ac\u2122?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I think I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve managed to absorb a fair amount of Bubblestar Galactica<\/em> terminology from you guys,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she says, eyes focusing and unfocusing as her gaze wanders distractedly around the apartment. She leans back in her seat, looking utterly lost.<\/p>\n

And also like she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not going anywhere anytime soon.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hold on,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I mutter, shuffling back to the bedroom. Jack\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s flopped on his side, comforter pulled around him like a makeshift cocoon, his breathing soft and even.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, no\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6nononono.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I crouch down next to the bed and he makes a valiant effort to open his droopy eyes a little wider. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Layla with some sort of universe-shattering emergency\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6but I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m getting rid of her!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I insist, my voice twisting into a cartoon character-like squeak. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t fall asleep! We can still\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mmmm.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d His eyes drift closed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Totally\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6awake\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

His breathing morphs into soft little snores.<\/p>\n

I heave the mightiest of sighs. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Forget universe-shattering,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I say, pressing a gentle kiss to his slumbering brow. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153This \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcemergency\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 better rock my fuckin\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 multiverse.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

**<\/p>\n

Layla\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s problem comes out in a torrent of sighs and stream-of-consciousness monologuing. But it basically boils down to a single word.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Braidbeard,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she sighs, her leggy form curled into a little ball next to my coffee table. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Ever since me and Mitch moved in together, he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s over constantly<\/em>. All hours of the day. And, well\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6the night. He even has his own toothbrush in our bathroom.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153That does\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6suck,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I murmur, casting furtive, longing looks toward the bedroom.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I love living with Mitch,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she continues. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153But I didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t realize they were, you know\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6a package deal.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She uncurls herself and sits up, then flops her head onto the coffee table with a dull thunk<\/em>. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153And his presence keeps us from being\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6intimate. Instead of sex, it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s, like, round-the-clock Braidbeard commentary on why such-and-such \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcpwns\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 and why so-and-so \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcsuxxors\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 and I never know what he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s talking about and when I try to ask, he interrupts me and\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Kinda like you just interrupted me<\/em>?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I mutter, drumming my fingers on the coffee tabletop.<\/p>\n

Her brow crinkles. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Julie,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she says, ultra-serious, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153this isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t a very good pep talk.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153And\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6since when have I ever claimed to have a talent for at such things?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I narrow my eyes suspiciously. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you trying to have\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6what are you trying to have? Girl talk?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

She lifts her head from the table, her mouth quirking into a hopeful half-smile. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why not? I mean, usually when we hang out, it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s with the group\u00e2\u20ac\u201dwith boys<\/em>. And in that crowd, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m mostly just \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcMitch\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Girlfriend.\u00e2\u20ac\u2122\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think of you that way,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I lie.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Actually, you do,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she says matter-of-factly. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Y\u00e2\u20ac\u2122all are heavy on the comics and action movie \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcbiff pow\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 talk. Not a lot of, like, sharing.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t help but roll my eyes. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153So it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s time for us to conform to our socially accepted stereotype? Would you like a drink with a little umbrella in it?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Her smile upgrades to a full-on beam. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oooooh! Like that show with all the brunch and blowjobs!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6Sex and the City<\/em>?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She claps her hands together. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Let\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s please share like we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re on Sex and the City<\/em>! I mean, Jules, I know you and Mitch are best friends cause you can blab about Iron Mans and Cyclones\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Cylons,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I mutter.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u2122til the cows come home, but don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t you ever just want to talk about relationships and cute dresses and the size of Jack\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Layla<\/em>.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I shake my head at her, trying to tamp down on my shock. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153No. And\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6I have to say, I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think any of that is exactly your thing either? Aren\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t you usually more interested in, I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know, the latest advances in yoga posing?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

She bites her lip. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I just want to\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6try it. The girl talk thing.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She cocks her head to the side, doe eyes widening. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Do you have any umbrella drinks?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6gah.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I throw up my hands. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Fine. Let\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s girl talk and get it over with.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I stalk into my miniscule kitchenette and snag a carton of nearly-expired orange juice, a dusty bottle of vodka, and a pair of plastic cups.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Here,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I say, marching back into the living room and plunking everything in front of her. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Will this do? I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t have any umbrellas.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

She holds up a pair of umbrella-like shapes that appear to be constructed from origami paper and twisty pipe-cleaners. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Done,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she says, smiling beatifically.<\/p>\n

I can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t help but soften in the face of her impromptu crafting. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Do you just carry that stuff around with you at all times?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I ask, settling in next to her.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You never know when you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re gonna have a crafts-related emergency,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she says, pouring us both heavy-on-the-vodka drinks.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Okay,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I say, trying to focus on the task at hand. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153So what exactly can we do to get you back on the sex train? Designated date nights? Slutty outfits? Murder?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

She takes a healthy slug of her drink, then reaches over and gently slides my laptop across the coffee table. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I have a plan<\/em>,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she says, just a bit too enthusiastically. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153With your computer savvy and my sex sense, we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll be unstoppable!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I think you need to decide which sex powers this \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcsense\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 of yours actually encompasses,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I say, flipping open the computer.<\/p>\n

She flaps her hand at the glowing screen. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Log on to Friendspace\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Facebook?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153And go through all your geeky friends and find Braidbeard a girlfriend. A perfect match. Someone else<\/em> he can spend all his time with.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I gape at her. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re kidding, right? Are we still talking about Braidbeard<\/em>? The guy who won\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t let anyone else get a fucking word in edgewise? Can we revisit my \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcmurder\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 idea?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

One claw-hand locks onto my right shoulder, ruthless and death grippy. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Julie. Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t you believe in love now? Love for all? Love for even the most anti-social of\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She jabs her particularly pointy index finger into my arm, emphasizing each syllable. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mis. An. Thropes<\/em>.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Ow<\/em>. Fine,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I grumble, typing my way over to Facebook. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll play along, but I resent the implication. Braidbeard\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the extreme end of the spectrum: I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m a moderately<\/em> anti-social misanthrope.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

She peers over my shoulder, guzzling her cocktail as I click through long-forgotten high school friends who won\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t leave me alone about their fucking Farm\/Mafia\/Quiz Where They\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve Learned They Are This One Kind of Snack Food.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153A certain sweet boy brought you down to \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcmoderate,\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 love,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she says, some of the usual zen-master calm creeping back into her voice. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Speaking of which: is he here for the whole weekend?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yeah,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I say absently, deleting a request to join someone\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s zombie horde. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Or at least until tomorrow afternoon.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Mmmm. Kind of a drag, that long distance thing.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153More than kind of\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6goddammit, why does Kirstie keep \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcsuggesting\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 I become a \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcfan\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 of Red Lobster?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I mime little air-quotes.<\/p>\n

She rests her head against my shoulder. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Have you guys discussed\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6you know, the next step?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You mean the one where I block her ass for trying to forcibly induct me into the cult of Cheddar Bay biscuits?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I mean the \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcyou guys\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 that involves the cute boy.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I scroll back through the middle section of my friends list. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It hasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t come up. Wait a second\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 That just might work,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I murmur, lingering on a particular profile.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What do you mean by \u00e2\u20ac\u02dchasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t come up\u00e2\u20ac\u2122?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I tear my eyes away from the screen and frown at her. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Is this also part of the girl talk deal?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

She drains her glass. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Fine,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I say crossly. I take a deep breath, and toss back a hefty portion of my own drink, gasping a little as the booze burns through my gut.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153\u00e2\u20ac\u02dcHasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t come up\u00e2\u20ac\u2122\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6means \u00e2\u20ac\u02dchasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t come up,\u00e2\u20ac\u2122\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I say slowly, sounding the words out. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It means we spend every second we can together, but never talk about how it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a lot of work, given that we live in different cities. It means I try not to think about the fact that he can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t move because of work and the fact that I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve lived here all my life and am not exactly a creature of change. And it especially<\/em> means that I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m doing my damndest to resist every single neurotic tendency in my being, because God knows there are a whole hell of a lot of them.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Layla pours herself another round. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Maybe this is something you guys should, like\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6talk about?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I shake my head vehemently. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s so\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6easygoing. Sweet, like you said. And I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m always the one who freaks out about the stupidest little relationship whatevers and I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m just trying to be\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6you know, normal. A nice, non-freaking-out girlfriend. Besides, I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t really think of any of that stuff until he has to leave.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I stir my drink with my pipe-cleaner umbrella, suddenly mesmerized by the bright orange liquid. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153When he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s here, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m just, um\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6happy.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Layla gives me a mushy-faced \u00e2\u20ac\u0153awwww\u00e2\u20ac\u009d look, then chugs the rest of her second drink. I swivel back to my computer, all business. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Anyway. You might wanna slow down a little. Even Sex and the City<\/em> girls aren\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t much for getting tanked before noon.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Which Sex and the City<\/em> person am I?!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she squeaks. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve never actually seen an episode.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Uh, well I guess Charlotte is the most cheerful? The most\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6idealistic?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oooooh! So I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m a Charlotte<\/em>.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I give her slovenly, now-slightly-tipsy form a once-over. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Actually, you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6none of them. And I think you should keep it that way.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I scoot to the side so she can get a better view of the laptop screen. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153So here\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s our best Braidbeard date candidate, in my opinion. Jill Sloan. Assistant manager at Comics Bee on Divisadero. Obsessive, cranky, not terribly good at\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6interacting. With people. In other words, sort of a female Braidbeard?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Ah.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Layla squints at the screen, then gestures to Jill\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Facebook icon. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153What\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s this picture?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153That,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I say proudly, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153is what cinches it. Jill\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s current avatar is Jessica Jones from New Avengers. And then we have Braidbeard\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I click over to Braidbeard\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s profile and point to his avatar.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Um?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She frowns, a vision of bewilderment. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6a drawing of\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6a very muscular African-American gentleman? Who looks nothing like Braidbeard?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Luke Cage!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I shriek, punching the air triumphantly. She gives me a blank stare. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Dammit, I need Mitch here to translate. Luke Cage and Jessica Jones are one of the coolest couples in the current Marvelverse. A One True Pairing if ever there was one.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153So\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6Braidbeard and this random girl are perfect for each other because of the not-quite-accurate way they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve chosen to represent themselves online?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I roll my eyes. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153If you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve got any better ideas, please share. If not, we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re taking a little field trip down to Comics Bee.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hmmm,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she says. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I suppose it could work.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She gives me another moony, mushy-faced gaze, a tiny hiccup escaping her lips. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153True love does bloom in the strangest places. As you<\/em> know.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

I throw her a look that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s half exasperation, half affection. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153No need to lay it on so thick, Drunky. Let\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s go do some recon.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Read Part II<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Hello! So before we begin, let me tell you a couple things. This story (a mini-sequel to my geek novella One Con Glory) was totally inspired by…well, many things, but most importantly: 1. An amazing online discussion about “male Star Sapphires.” 2. The Grok theme “avatar.” 3. Karen Healey’s desire to see more of the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[403],"class_list":["post-3577","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-with-violet-light"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.alertnerd.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3577","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.alertnerd.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.alertnerd.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.alertnerd.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.alertnerd.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3577"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.alertnerd.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3577\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.alertnerd.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3577"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.alertnerd.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3577"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.alertnerd.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3577"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}