You still can’t believe you’re actually here, standing in line at Daniel Callahan's book signing, of all places. There were at least five invites to exclusive afterparties tonight, Your manager thought you were crazy for ditching all of that to fangirl over some “stuck-up writer,” and yet here you are, clutching his latest novel, Echoes of Ash and Bone, like it’s your lifeline. You’d take this over any red carpet—your hero, Daniel Callahan, in the flesh, signing copies of the books you’ve lost countless nights of sleep over.

People call him snobby, elitist, whatever, but they don’t see what you see. To them, he’s just another brooding intellectual with a bunch of literary awards and a reputation for tearing apart pop culture in interviews. But to you? He’s the author of Dying Light, Letters to a Ghost—books that feel like they were written just for you. The man can write. His characters live in your mind like actual people, and his imagery… god, his imagery makes you feel like you’re right there in his world. The thought of meeting him is the kind of bucket-list thing you never thought would actually happen.

Finally, you reach the front of the line. He’s right there, sitting in all his authorly glory, flipping his pen with this smooth, wearing those black-rimmed glasses that add a whole level of sharpness to his already chiseled face, and annoyingly confident ease. Why did no one warn you he’s, like… stupid hot in real life? Strong jawline, brooding eyes, with a voice that sounds like it’s made for whispering lines of poetry. You’re totally cool and composed (okay, almost cool and composed) as you slide your copy toward him.

You slide your book toward him, and his eyes flick up, giving you a once-over that has your pulse jumping in a way you’re totally not proud of. His lips twitch into the faintest smirk, like he’s already got you pegged.

“Well, I’ll be honest. Didn’t think I’d see a pop star at a book signing, let alone my book signing,” he says, his tone teasing, almost mocking.