“Hey,” he said as soon as I approached him.
“Hey.” I did my best to lean against the railing, careful to keep enough distance between us that it could seem like an accident if someone snapped a picture that BamBam happened to see. I waited for Ethan to say something, but instead he just looked around as if the parking lot of a fun complex in the middle of a Vegas strip mall was the most fascinating place on earth. Finally, I broke down and asked, “Before we officially do this, something’s been bugging me. Why did you offer to work with me?”
“I think you’re cute.”
My brain malfunctioned a bit before I came to my senses. I snorted. “Sure. What’s the real reason?”
Ethan took in a sharp breath, then exhaled slowly. The expression on his face said he hoped I’d be distracted by that joke, even as he prepared to answer the question. Checking over his shoulder, he turned his attention back to me. “I don’t really wantto hang out with the group I used to go to these things with. You and your friends aren’t close to my old circle.”
He paused, moving his head from side to side as if debating how much more he should share. If what Gabby and Nittha said about his breakup was true, it made a lot more sense that he was hanging around us. “You need help, and I need new friends.”
I nodded, deciding not to pry any further. “So, we’re a match made in desperate-people heaven?”
“Pretty much.” Half of Ethan’s mouth turned up in an ironic smile.
I sighed. “So, how do you want to do this?”
“Do what?”
“Make our video.”
“I guess we should figure out our idea before we do anything else.” Ethan’s forehead wrinkled as if he was surprised that I hadn’t tried to backtrack on our agreement. “How do you usually work with people? Any deal-breakers?”
My brain went fuzzy with nerves as Ethan kept asking questions. I had absolutely no experience directing anyone other than myself and BamBam. Worse, I didn’t know if I could describe what I did to anyone else. For someone who wanted to be a director, this seemed like a massive oversight.
“Truthfully? I have no idea how I like to collaborate. The only person I’ve ever worked with is BamBam.” Ethan’s eyebrows disappeared underneath his hair, and heat flooded my cheeks. “Don’t judge. I don’t have my own social media, remember?”
“Not judging.” Ethan held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. “Just surprised. At the pool, you seemed so serious aboutediting that I assumed you had a bunch of partnerships and projects going.”
“I wish. I want to study to be a director someday.” I watched him for a moment, trying to decide if he was being sincere. Nothing about his expression felt like he was waiting to spring a mean joke on me. “Anyway. I don’t actually know what I’m doing—I mean, I know what I’m doing with a camera, but not with other people and…” I paused as Ethan’s expression shifted from surprised to confused. Taking a steadying breath, I tried again. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m new to working with people, so you might have to tell me stuff sometimes.”
“Communication. Got it.” The corner of Ethan’s mouth twisted into a small smile. “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t done much collaboration either. We can teach each other.”
“Thanks.” For a minute, we stared at each other, an unspoken understanding passing between us. I wasn’t sure how or when, but something had changed. Ethan’s eye contact felt more deliberate as our quiet understanding turned into a low hum of electricity. Ethan licked his lips and narrowed his eyes at me. My pulse sped up. The urge to reach out and trace the skin along the hem of his tank top crossed my mind, and I was suddenly very grateful for the space between us.
The screech of tires on cement disrupted whatever was happening to us. Ethan blinked and cleared his throat. I pushed my sudden and inexplicable interest in his collarbone out of my mind and continued. “So, I was thinking, and you can say no, but I did some internet sleuthing, and Kelly Sparkles is fromLas Vegas. It’s why he has at least one big event here every year. What if we made the theme of our video a love letter to Las Vegas?”
“Okay.” Ethan nodded slowly, his face drawn in concentration. “Tell me more.”
“Like, we’ll take all the establishing shots of TrendCon, smiling, happy people, flashy product demos, and all that, but then we can film you doing Vegas-y stuff—not only the tourist activities, but some things off the beaten path, too.”
“Make all of Vegas the star of the show since Sparkles loves it. I like it.” Ethan smiled briefly. Then his expression changed. “Wait. Why wouldn’t we film you, too?”
“Because I don’t have a social media account or any kind of following.” I shrugged.
Skepticism was written all over his face. “But you are here at the con and working on the video. It’ll be weird if it’s only me.”
“It’ll be even weirder if I suddenly appear out of nowhere.” I furrowed my brow at Ethan.
“But you’re not out of nowhere. You’re the creative behind one of the most popular influencers over sixty.”
“People will know it’s me behind the camera if they read the credits. I don’t need to be a director who makes cameos.”
“Why not? The most famous directors in the world do that.” Ethan narrowed his eyes at me. “Plus, I’m not an actor or a tour guide. I explain car trouble on the internet.”
He did have a point about the director-cameo thing. But I wasn’t going to give up years of anonymity and the ability to avoid an additional metric ton of parental scrutiny, not tomention the option to bury imperfect work, that easily. If my face was in it, there was no taking it back. The internet is forever. I’d be defined by this video. If we lost, it’d be a humiliating mark on my digital résumé and further proof to my parents that I should be an accountant or something. If we won, then I’d include my name in the credits.
I shook my head. “It won’t be weird, and you won’t have to become an actor overnight. We’ll use cuts and music to make it interesting.” Ethan sucked in a breath as if he wanted to argue some more, and I rushed to add, “It’ll be great, I promise. I’ll even do the editing to prove it to you.”
