Blake didn't know if he was going to faint, pee himself, or scream like a girl.
Maybe he'd go for the gold and do all three. Yeah, that was one way to make a memorable impression. But, who could blame him? He was in the same building as Deke Masters! The Deke Masters who starred in Zombie Drive, which was not only ashow on TV, but a damn good comic, too.
Blake scanned the busy, crowded convention hall, desperate to get a glimpse of Deke. He knew that it would be easy to miss the guy. According to his stats on the internet, he was only five-foot-eight inches. Plus, he had short dark hair, which tended to make it hard to distinguish him in a group of people.
Blake ran a self-conscious hand through his own blond hair. Just that morning it had seemed like a great idea to spike it up and put red and black streaks through it. Now Blake found himself regretting the decision. Not only did it make him look like he was desperate for attention, but he found that countless other guys were sporting the same style and they were all younger than Blake's twenty-five years.
But he wasn't just another fanboy—at least not this year. Blake reached over to the table by his side and ran his fingers lovingly over the cover of his comic. Sure, it might be a small indie-press and he might only have a handful of followers, but he was finally starting to get noticed. Shoot, if even one person asked for an autograph over the week, Blake would do a happy dance to celebrate the moment. Especially since the last thing he'd signed was the court order that evicted him from his home.
He took in another breath, his gaze flicking over to the large display that Zombie Drive had up front. While various other cast members were mulling about, Deke had yet to make an appearance and Blake was getting nervous.
The program had explicitly said that Deke was going to be there, but what if something had changed at the last minute? Panic began to bubble inside Blake. Shit, he'd wasted the last of his money to come here and it might have been a waste of time.
Of course it was a waste of time! Even if he did get to talk to Deke, there was no way in hell the guy would give a loser like Blake a second glance. The man was a TV star for frick's sake—whereas Blake shared his mother's basement with her five, grumpy, ugly, smelly cats.
"Wow, Star Cats! I love this comic," a voice called.
Blake was so caught up in his musings that he almost missed the comment. Great! This was probably his one and only fan in the place and he'd almost blown it. He threw a smile on his face and turned around, only to be stunned right down to the tips of his bright red Nike high-tops, to find himself staring at none other than Deke himself.
Aw, damn, if he wasn't just as hot as he appeared on the show and all the interviews, too. With short, brown hair, big chocolate eyes and pale skin, he was thin and boyish at the same time. Most of all, he didn't tower over Blake, which had to be a first. In fact, they were about the same height.
"You actually read my comic?" Blake asked, his question ending with an embarrassing squeak.
Deke flashed him a smile, the one that had always made Blake want to melt into a puddle of goo. Sweet, with just a hint of dimple and showing off perfectly white teeth, it was better than anything Blake had seen a professional model sporting.
"Sure, I read it. I've been following it since you first started posting weekly pages up on your website," Deke said.
Blake felt like he'd won a million dollar lottery and an Olympic gold medal on the same day. He even took his dorkiness a step further by bouncing a bit on his feet, probably coming off as some excited school girl.
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