Rey never expected to meet someone as well-known as him. She had encountered a few celebrities in her role as fundraiser for House Sugar, her non-profit organization. But he was different, more famous than the others, a real rising Hollywood movie star. He wandered around the fundraiser with his entourage waiting nearby. He fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable, not talking to many people, a drink clutched in one giant fist.

Rey locked eyes with him for a moment, but he looked away. She kind of wanted to say hello to him, but his demeanor was forbidding and unwelcoming. Best to stay away from those types. She didn't know why he'd attended this event or who he was with.

She lost track of him in the crowd. Many New York-based celebrities floated around the room, attracted to the politically-correct idea of the House Sugar non-profit—the organization granted seed money to women artists, writers, filmmakers, playwrights, etc. They were popular during this "Me, Too" era. That was fine by TJ, Jess, and Rey. They all believed in what they were doing.

Of course, Rey's participation in House Sugar was a bit different than funding women artists—but, tonight, she and her co-founders were focused on raising money for grants. Rey didn't push her own agenda on this crowd.

After making the rounds and shaking innumerable hands, she stepped out on the balcony, even though it was a bit chilly in NYC that evening. It was too warm inside with all the people walking around, breathing, and chatting.

The man she lost track of was there, the most famous New York resident to grace one of these benefits. He turned, surprised by Rey opening the door and stepping outside. No one else was there.

"Excuse me." Rey moved back, not wanting to intrude.

"No, it's fine," he murmured and looked at his phone. It was tiny in his huge hand. He put it in his pocket and surveyed her face for a moment. "Are you one of the co-founders of House Sugar?"

"Yes," she said. "Rey Johnson." She reached out a hand and he took it in his large paw. His hand swallowed hers and she gave him her most professional smile. He frowned instead of returning it, drawing his dark brows together.

"Adam," he said. He understood that she knew who he was. Adam Sackler, of course. Rising star, big dick energy, amazeballs actor. Intense as hell. Sexy as fuck.

"Thank you for coming out tonight," she said, politely, trying not to lose her shit in the face of his raw masculine energy.

He nodded at her once, his expression still grave. "It's all due to Rose, uh, Tico. She wanted Finn, you know, Storm, to be here to show support and…" He rolled his eyes slightly. His face lost its frozen look for a moment.

"And Finn pressed you into service." Rey nodded in sympathy. "Well, your sacrifice is much appreciated."

He looked a little stricken. "That sounded rude. I don't mean that I didn't want to… Well, I didn't. But the cause… you know. It's about women artists and I'm trying… but…" He stopped and pressed his lips together. He touched them with two fingers.

Rey watched in amazement. "Well, you just did a whole little thing all by yourself."

He laughed abruptly and shook his head. A lock of hair fell onto his forehead and he raked it back with one hand. "I… yeah… I did. I'm trying to say that it's a good cause."

"Even if you didn't want to show up."

He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. "Shit. No, no. It's… Well, yeah, that is kind of the truth."

"No problem," Rey said, laughing.

"What's your role?" He gazed into her face, his whole attention suddenly focused.

"Oh, you can stop pretending now. It's okay if you're not interested."

"No, I am. I founded a non-profit for kids who don't have access to theatre programs in their schools. I'm not as directly involved anymore because I'm too busy, but I remember what it was like to have these events and try to fundraise. I fully appreciate the work it takes to pull this off."

Maybe he was genuinely interested.

"I'm in charge of amateur content creators," Rey explained. "And I don't mean that as a slur at all. Some great works come out of the amateur wing of our organization. Our definition of the term covers those creators who are not represented by agents or being paid for their work."

"I understand," he said. "What does the amateur wing consist of?"

Rey warmed to her subject. It was her baby. "It's a server, the Sugar Server, we call it. It's a place where women—or I suppose men, if they so desire—post original or fan works online."

He seemed to ponder that idea for a moment. "Works, like written pieces or artwork?"

"Both. We don't have the capacity at this time to host films. But we can host a lot of fiction, poetry, essay, fanfiction, etc."

"What's fanfiction? I've heard that term before. What exactly is it?"

Rey looked him in the eye. "I'm not sure you want to know."

He stared back. "Why not?"

She sighed and wondered exactly how much to tell him. "How fragile are you?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"I'm speaking of anxiety and the pressures of fame." Rey had seen some awfully jittery Adam Sackler red-carpet strolls, and he had even walked out of a radio interview citing anxiety over interview questions.

"I'm not a fragile movie star," he said sharply, brows drawn together again, lips tight. "I'm able to handle a lot."

She'd heard he didn't like to watch his own films but decided not to say that to him.

Rey held up her palms in a gesture of surrender. "All right, then. Fanfiction involves stories featuring characters from popular films, TV shows, games, or other media. The plots of the stories may follow or diverge from the original work." She rubbed her arms as she talked. Her small black sweater wasn't keeping her especially warm.

He nodded. "I've heard that. What does that have to do with me?" He watched her holding her upper arms. "Do we need to go inside? Are you cold?"

"Sure," she said. She had started shivering a bit.

Adam held the door open for Rey. She noted exactly how tall he was; it was obvious she could almost walk underneath his arm, though she didn't. Once inside, she pointed to a more secluded spot with a cluster of comfortable chairs off to the right of them. He allowed her to lead the way. "I want to hear more about this," he said, taking a seat and resting one long leg on top of his knee.

Rey sat next to him. It was a bit loud inside the room, so she leaned over toward him to be heard. She could smell his expensive cologne and whatever hair products his stylist put on him.

"Fanfiction is not a new phenomenon," she said. "Parodies were often considered a form of fanfiction, as writers chose to take a piece already written and morph it into something else."

She watched a small group gather near Adam's seat—just within earshot. One of the women, with long black hair, was Adam's stylist, if Rey recalled correctly from social media. The woman stood next to two others, presumably his agent and publicist—or his assistant. Rey didn't recognize either of them. A man standing behind the group looked like he might be security. They all glanced over at Adam from time to time.

A blonde woman detached herself from the group for a moment and returned with a drink in her hand. She meandered over to hand it to Adam. "Would you like this?" She shot a worried look at Adam and then at Rey.

"Yes, thank you." He took the drink and smiled at her briefly. He didn't offer an introduction. "I'm fine."

"Okay," she said.

Rey raised her brows at Adam. He set his drink down on the table next to him. "They're checking to see if I need rescuing from you."

The thought of this giant, moody individual needing to be rescued was startling. Rey figured Mr. Tall and Intimidating could take care of himself. His dark stare alone stopped even the most diligent of reporters from asking too many personal questions.

"Do you?" She stared at him. She wondered if his staff was there to keep him from biting someone's head off and causing a PR crisis.

"No," he said with a short chuckle. "Though it's rude that Lily didn't bring you a drink. Would you care for something?"

"No, thanks," Rey replied. "I'm working this event."

"I see." He took a sip from the glass, which looked like it contained whiskey on the rocks. "Continue."

"You asked what fanfic has to do with you. Should I make that connection for you?" She wondered if he really wanted to know.

He gave her an odd look. "Yes, that's why I asked."

"We ask writers to tag their fanfiction to categorize the stories into fandoms. Galactic Battles has a rather large fandom."

Another one of the women stepped forward upon hearing those words. "Miss…" she started to say.

Adam waved her away. "It's okay."

Rey could almost see the wheels turning in Adam's head. His drink was half-way to his plush lips. "Galactic Battles?"

"Yep," she said. "Specifically, the sequels."

"The ones I'm in." He sipped the drink and then twisted the glass in his hand.

"Yes, that is correct."

"The stories are about me." His eyes were serious. He was holding himself still, like he was afraid of the answer.

"No, not about you, per se. About the characters in the sequels. The stories are called Kirlo fanfiction. The people who write them are often called Kirlos, too."

He placed his drink on the table again, sat up, and clasped his hands together. "I've heard of that. I heard that people were… invested in the characters being romantically involved."

"Correct. And many stories have been written to explore that idea."

"I see." He nodded slowly. "I see. Listen, even though the movie's out now, I'm not going to talk about it." He raised his eyes to the woman who tried to stop Rey from speaking.

"I'm not asking you to," Rey assured him, glancing at the entourage, too. "I'm telling you that there is fanfic out there. Galactic Battles, specifically Kirlo, is our biggest fandom at this time."

He looked a bit shocked. "Why?"

"Well, unless you want to get into a discussion about the films…"

He interrupted. "No." He waved at the woman again to stop her from saying something.

"Then, I can't tell you why. I mean, I can, but you probably don't want to hear it."

"No, no. I don't." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "So, the stories feature characters doing different things?"

"Some plots follow storylines laid out in the films. Some diverge quite a bit. It depends on the writer."

"What else is out there? Anything about me as a person?" His gaze held Rey's.

"You don't want to know that, I promise." Rey shook her head.

"That's dangerous," he said. "It's not… not at all good. You have no idea. Tell me the rest. It's better if I know than if I don't know."

"I'm sure your security team and publicist know all this, Adam. They probably don't tell you about it for a good reason," she said in a low voice. She was unwilling to be the one to hand out this information.

He leaned in closer. "I need to know." He enunciated each word clearly. His gaze never wavered. Rey could see how he would be intimidating.

"Fine." She took a deep breath. "There's a thing called Real Person Fiction, and, yes, it is about you as a real person. Hence the name."

He leaned back and blew out a long breath. "Fuck." He darted a look at Rey. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize. It sounds kind of fucked," she agreed. "But, look, writers know the difference between fiction and real life. They write about characters."

"Some write about me, though, like they know me."

"Fame is a bitch," she said. "I'm just guessing, though. I really don't know."

He laughed shortly, sarcastically. "You don't have to tell me that. That stuff is just fucking creepy, you know? Weird. Do you support it?"

She chose her words carefully. "It's not for me to police what people write."

"But do you support it?"

Rey cocked her head to one side and considered her answer. "I support it. The server is part of our mission at House Sugar—so, yes, I believe in fanfiction. It's an outlet for many people. It's a way to be creative."

"Do you think it leads to people becoming obsessed and blurring the line between fantasy and reality?"

She realized suddenly that she was not dealing with a stupid person here—some celebrities didn't have opinions and didn't think for themselves. Not this guy. He was fucking smart, articulate, and well-educated.

She answered carefully. "I don't believe there's a direct correlation between writing a short story and being obsessed with a celebrity. That's too big a leap to make."

"It can happen. It has happened," he stated vehemently.

"I don't doubt it," she replied. "But not everyone travels that path. I understand that it's frightening to think about, but the majority of writers distinguish between reality and fiction—and they don't wish to harm you."

He leaned back and twined his fingers behind his head for a minute—stretching. "How many times do you think I've had to move because some idiot published my address?"

"In how many years?" she asked.

"Say, the last three."

"I don't know," she said.

"Three. Once a year. I've needed—no, that's wrong—I've been forced to move because it was intolerable having fans parked in front of my building. People followed me, took photos, tried to get autographs—all because my address ended up on the internet. I bought a house in upstate New York and the address was published. Now, I have to ramp up security there or dump it. Either way, it's a fucking pain in the ass." His voice began rising above the low hum of chatter.

"Got it," Rey said.

Lily came over upon hearing his monologue. "Adam," she said. He looked at her. "I'm just checking in. I can order the car anytime."

"In a bit," he said. "Thank you."

She nodded.

He looked back at Rey. "Can I read some of this fanfiction?"

"Oh, oh, God, no. You don't want to do that," she said, horrified.

He laughed at her expression. "Yes, I do. I want to find out if it's dangerous."

"You're out of your fucking mind," she gritted out. Then realized who she was talking to. "Oh, sorry. Sorry. I really don't think that's a good idea."

Adam laughed out loud and clapped his hands. "I liked the first answer better. I am out of my fucking mind." From the table, he snagged a copy of the program that Rey's colleague, TJ, had designed for the evening. He wrote on it with a sharpie he pulled from his jacket pocket. "Here's my assistant's email. Send her a couple of stories, and she'll pass them on to me."

Rey gingerly took the program from Adam's hand. "Okay. Are you sure?"

"Yes." He pointed a long finger at her. "Send me a good one—one that wouldn't offend—and a bad one—one that would freak me the fuck out. Send me a real person one."

Rey shook her head. "You really, really, really don't want…"

He placed a hand on her arm. "Yeah, I do."

She tore off part of the program. "I'm going to give you this part back. If you'd like to talk about what you read, my email and phone number are on here. Let me know what you think."

"You want to know if I get freaked out." He smiled, full on, right at her. She caught her breath. He was fucking gorgeous when he smiled—his dimples showed, his eyes crinkled, and his face lit up. No more resting bitch face.

She swallowed hard. "I'd really like to know whether you think it's dangerous."

He took the shred of program between his fingers and waved it at her. "I will."

He stood. "It was nice to meet you, Rey Johnson." He shook her hand again.

He strolled out of the room in his expensive suit with his entourage of women, and one lone male security guard, at his heels. His long legs ate up the ground and he left them all in the dust.

Rey told the girls about her encounter the next day at the tiny House Sugar office space downtown. They were debriefing about their event and the money they raised.

TJ and Jess were excited to choose stories for Mr. S, S for Sugar Daddy, as they called him, to read.

Jess was all for choosing as much BDSM as they could throw at him. She kept singing, I will be your Father Figure, put your tiny hand in mine…

Rey told Jess to shut the hell up. TJ patted Rey's arm and said she'd find a good Real Person Fiction for Adam. She and Jess both searched the Sugar Server, while Rey chewed a nail and wondered what the actual fuck she was doing.

They finally decided on a straight-up Kirlo story, a Modern AU, a BDSM version of Kirlo, and an RPF story about Adam Sackler meeting his dog, Marvin, for the first time.

Rey put some metaphorical blinders on her nerves and started crafting an email with a bit of help from the other two. It took an hour to complete because she wanted to be extra careful about what she wrote. Jess danced around the room, posing and singing, I will be your Daddy, until the end of time. Rey wanted to bean her upside her head.

Dear [they debated here and decided to use his first name] Adam,

The women of House Sugar and the Sugar Server have chosen a selection of stories for you to read. [They also debated about whether to tell him what the stories were about. In the end, they decided that knowledge was power, and they should give him summaries.]

Truth Hurts is a story that follows the first sequel movie, asking the question of what would happen if Kira had to rescue Kylo Ren after she wounded him in the forest. She takes him aboard her ship and they have to work together or die.

Friends with the Monster is a modern-day, real-world story about how Kylo Ren helps a group of foster children and meets Kira, their foster mom.

At Your Service: Knights of Ren Escorts is a BDSM story with an emphasis on Daddy Dom / little girl dynamics. In it, Kira employs an escort service to try some different kinks in the bedroom. This is called "Porn Without Plot." [TJ wrote this while Rey freaked out at her desk, thinking about Adam reading it. TJ thought it was better that Adam knew upfront what this story was about. Rey wanted to cut it and was summarily voted down.]

Marvin and You is a Real Person Fiction story written in second person, where the reader is the main character, along with Adam Sackler. It tells the story of how Marvin was adopted and probably bears little resemblance to real life.

Please let us know your thinking about this fanfiction.

Rey, TJ, and Jess

Rey embedded the links, said a tiny prayer, and hit send. The girls made her promise to share details if she heard anything back from Mr. Sugar Daddy.

I will be the one who loves you 'til the end of time…

Jess threatened to add that quotation to the end of the email.

Rey panicked quietly.

Rey's cell phone rang while she was in the middle of grading a student's poetry paper. It was not an especially good discussion of William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow." She grabbed her phone, grateful for the interruption.

A woman's voice came on the line. "Is this Rey Johansson speaking?"

"It's Rey Johnson. Yes?" Rey was used to getting calls from a variety of places—could be a student, a publisher, an editor, someone trying to reach House Sugar.

"I'm sorry. Rey Johnson. This is Lily. I'm Mr. Sackler's secretary. Is this a good time?"

Rey gulped. Holy shit. "Yes."

"Please hold." The phone clicked and another voice came on the line.

"Rey?"

"Hi." Rey stood up and started to pace. Her palms began to sweat, and she thought she might drop her phone.

"It's Adam. I read the stories."

Yes," she said and bit her lip. Oh so erudite.

"May I just say… something?" His voice was rich and deep on the phone.

"Uh, sure," she said.

"Holy fucking shit! What the fuck is this shit? What the fuck?" He was shouting. Rey blinked at the volume of his yell. She swore she could see the paint peeling off her walls.

"I told you, you damn maniac," she shouted back. "I told you it would freak you out."

"He… He… spanks her. Good God, what is this shit?"

Rey swallowed. "Adam, you had a spanking scene in Women's Lives."

"That was acting!" he hollered.

He was so loud that Rey held the phone away from her ear. She took a deep breath and tried to sound reasonable.

"Okay, so it's dangerous, in your opinion."

She heard him breathing like a dragon on the other end of the phone. "What do you think?" he growled.

"All right, calm down," Rey said. "I'll admit. It was hard to think about you reading this stuff. I let the others pick for me because I couldn't quite stomach the idea of you reading any fucking fanfiction, much less..." She couldn't even say it again.

"HA!" he snorted. "HA! See, I'm right. It's too weird—even for you."

"HA!" she yelled back. "Even for me? What does that mean?" He had a point, but she was not willing to concede.

"HA!" he bellowed. "It means, I win. What do I get for winning this argument?"

"What?" The word burst out of her mouth.

"Yeah, I won. What do I get?" He sounded calmer. She could hear some good humor emerging in his voice.

Her mouth dropped open, even though he couldn't see it. "Not one thing, Adam Sackler. For shit's sake, I can't stop fanfiction from being written about you. I'm not… I mean, I can't… Our server is up and running. I'm not in a position to…" This fucker had her speechless—and she suspected he was enjoying her misery.

"What. Do. I. Get?" He started chuckling outright.

"You get to ride this train to glory." She lifted her chin and gritted her teeth.

"What the fuck?"

"I mean, look… I hate to tell you, but… this horse has left the barn. This ship has sailed—and it's got you on it, my friend. Fanfiction, RPF, is a thing. That's what you get."

"Well, that just sucks."

Truer words were never spoken—for him—but not for the fans who enjoyed reading about Kylo Ren and Kira.

"I still win," he said.

"Like I don't know that," Rey replied.

Adam said goodbye and hung up laughing.

Rey had no idea what to make of that conversation.

Rey thought about the phone call and Adam's problem with fanfiction for another day or two. It occurred to her suddenly that a kind of doxxing had happened to her. Oddly enough, she wanted to tell Adam about it. She thought he might understand, perhaps better than anyone else, what she had faced.

She wrote another email just from her this time, carefully worded.

Dear Adam,

Please forgive my further intrusion into your life. I do not want you to think I'm one of those people who takes advantage of a short-term connection. However, I thought of something regarding our conversation. I had an experience in which I was "outed," for lack of a better term, by a writer. It was quite disconcerting. I'd tell you the full story here but don't wish to have it floating around on the internet. If you are interested in discussing the idea of privacy and fiction—or whatever theme we want to call it—please let me know. If not, no hard feelings.

Rey

She sent the missive into outer space, wondering what would come of it. She was sure that Adam had to be extremely careful in his interactions. Reaching out again might raise red flags for a security team. She wondered if she would hear from him again—it might be deemed too risky.

Rey continued to walk through her life of writing, teaching, working on the Sugar Server, and doing all the things she normally did. But there was a layer of awareness in her consciousness, a smidgeon of insight that she was waiting to talk to this intriguing individual again. She knew she shouldn't wait—or hope. But she did.

Two days later, an email popped up on Rey's phone while she was teaching a class. She stared at it. It was from Lily, Adam's assistant. She was probably telling Rey to buzz the fuck off.

Rey couldn't read it until she finished talking about yet another great American poem, "This Is Just to Say." And, of course, students picked that day to ask a million questions and stand around wanting to talk after class. She tried not to be short with them. It was just Adam's people telling her to fuck off. Why hurry to read it and feel sad?

Except that it wasn't. It said:

Do you know where Paddy McGee's is? 5 pm. Can you make it tomorrow? A.

She looked up Paddy McGee's on Google and sent a reply immediately.

How in the world could he go to a bar? Rey wondered as she sat in a dark corner, waiting for Adam to show up. No other customers were inside; she was completely alone. The bartender watched the door and looked over at her. He nodded. Adam was on his way in.

He walked in quickly and scanned the room, saw her, and came over. He wore a hoodie on top of a baseball cap. He sat down.

"Hey," he said, softly.

"Hi," she said.

The bartender brought a whiskey on the rocks for Adam, while he dropped his hood and took off his hat. He shook out his hair and nodded his thanks. Rey already had her gin and tonic in front of her.

"So," he said, fiddling with the glass. "That was an interesting email. What's going on?"

Rey blew out a breath. "You're the first person I thought of when I remembered this incident. I wanted to tell you that I was part of a Real Person fictional story. Someone wrote me into a story."

His eyes were bright with interest. "What? What the fuck happened?"

"Ex-boyfriend, a real dick, got the writing bug and wrote a novel. Unfortunately, I was the main character in it."

Adam leaned forward in his chair. "How do you know?"

"He used my name, spelled R. E. Y."

He nodded. "It's an unusual name, that's for sure. Did he use your last name, too?"

"Rey Jackson. A bit of a change, but not that much. Some incidents in the story mirrored events in our relationship."

He closed his eyes. "Shit. You must have felt … Well, I don't know. How did you feel?"

"Horrible," Rey said simply. "Violated."

Adam took a sip of his whiskey. "So…?"

"It wasn't a very pleasant experience. The thing is, he was my first real boyfriend when I was eighteen. I fell in love with him and we had a relationship that lasted about two years."

Adam listened without interruption.

"He wrote a sex scene into the book that was definitely based on our relationship."

He sat back in his chair. "He didn't."

"Pretty much."

"Fuck him." Adam looked into Rey's eyes.

"Yeah, I thought the same thing. The thing is that I felt violated by him and his writing. And it's out there. It's published, and he used my name. It's just like RPF."

"Do you think anyone makes the connection?" He cut himself off with a wave. "Never mind, that's not the fucking point, is it?"

Rey shook her head and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She blinked hard. Dammit, she would not cry in front of this man. She made a fist and squeezed.

Adam reached out and covered her clenched fist with his hand. "That's bullshit. It's so fucked up to betray a person like that. I live in fear that one of my ex-girlfriends will jump out of nowhere and do that to me."

Rey sniffed back her tears. Adam handed her a napkin, and she wiped her eyes. "I just bet you do. Maybe she's vindictive and wants to tell a bunch of lies about how awful you were."

"Yep," he said. "That's exactly it. Or maybe I really was an asshole." He stared into space, lost in a memory. His eyes snapped back to Rey's face and he smiled.

Rey smiled back weakly. "At least fiction is fiction. Fanfiction writers don't know you. The ones who write about characters aren't even writing about you at all."

"True. Those stories were… different but ultimately had no relation to me as a person. I could think about the character as a character, though…" He shook his head. "I want Kylo Ren to remain the creation of the writers of Galactic Battles."

"Well, he's your creation, too," she reminded him. "Your interpretation of that character, which you embody and bring to life. It's not just words on a page, Adam. It's your body, voice, and expressions that breathe life into the character. So, while you do what the directors tell you, they also see what you do and agree to it. In part, you are the creator of Kylo Ren."

He shrugged and gazed around the empty room. "I like to think of myself as a conduit for their vision."

"Fine, but their vision would not exist without you and your choices as an actor."

He met her eyes. "Yeah. It wouldn't."

"Do you feel the need to preserve the character as he is on the screen?"

"Maybe."

They sat in comfortable silence, each thinking about that idea. Adam took a swallow of his drink. Rey did the same.

"It seems to me," she offered, "that writers, real fanfic writers, are exploring the character further. That's all."

"Is that what your ex was doing? Exploring your character further?"

"No, he was obsessed with me."

Adam swirled his drink. "I understand why."

"Why?"

He placed the glass on the table. "You're smart and beautiful. He probably never got over it when you dumped him."

Rey couldn't look at him. "Thank you. I appreciate it." She couldn't believe he had just complimented her. She took a deep breath. "How did you know I dumped him?"

Adam pressed his lips together briefly while thinking about the question. "He wouldn't have written the book if he wasn't working out some issue. What else could it be?"

She hadn't thought about that before. "I don't know what his motivation was in writing that damn book, but it was distressing."

"So is fanfiction. At least it is to me."

Rey understood his point of view. "My only defense is that fanfiction has no impact on you unless you let it. You shouldn't read it."

"Your ex's book can be the same. Don't read it."

"I only read it once to see what was there. I wish I hadn't. I'm over it now, though."

"Well," Adam said. "There are people who act creepy no matter what. Those individuals will find a way to enact their fantasies on me whether they write fanfiction or follow me around town. Clearly, I can't stop it. I just wish…" He paused.

"It didn't exist?"

"Maybe. Or that I wasn't famous." He stopped and ran his hand down over his mustache and beard. "Fuck. You didn't hear me say that."

"I would never repeat anything you said to anyone."

"Not even your friends or co-workers?" He raised his brows.

"Not if you tell me something in confidence. Is it all in confidence?"

He rolled his eyes. "My whole life is in confidence. I don't like to tell anyone anything about me or my life. I don't even know why I'm risking this conversation with you. You're not in Hollywood."

Rey shrugged. "I've met famous people before. Not that impressed, to tell you the truth. I might have been a bit starry-eyed at first, but, now, not so much."

"Any particular reason?" He grinned at her. "Off the record, of course."

"There is no record, on or off," she said. "Some celebs are not that bright. Present company excluded, of course."

"Why, thank you for the backhanded compliment. I will cherish it." He dipped his head regally.

"Shut the hell up," she said.

Then he laughed, a lot. It made her day.

Adam received a phone call and spoke briefly. He apologized profusely and said he had to leave for another engagement.

They both stood up and Adam reached for her hand. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek quickly. "Good to see you again, Rey," he said. He brushed the other cheek as well.

"Good to see you," she stammered, taken aback by the kisses.

Adam stuck his hat on his head, pulled up his hoodie, and pressed a button on his phone. He nodded at the bartender, then started speaking into the phone. He turned and waved a big mitt as he walked out.

Rey stared into space for a minute, wondering what just happened. The whole thing felt a little surreal.

The bartender asked if she wanted anything else.

"No," she replied. "How much do I owe you for the drink?" She walked up to the bar.

"Nothing," he said. "Adam took care of it already."

Rey felt horrible. She hadn't even thanked Adam for inviting her or for the drink or anything. Her brain apparently shut down in his presence.

When she searched for pictures of Adam with fans on the internet, she saw a particular look in the fans' eyes. Stunned. Amazed. Speechless. Adoring, even. Was that what she looked like to him?

Shit.

Back to the email Rey went. This time, she felt really crazy emailing again, but she needed to say thank you. She wrote to Lily and asked her to please thank Adam for the invitation and the drink.

Rey received a text message from Private Caller an hour later.

Youre welcm had fun A

She wondered if that account was really Lily's email—or a puppet account for Adam. No way to know. Anyway, she was grateful that she could thank him.

Rey tried hitting reply to the text, but it bounced back. Just as well that she didn't have more access to him. She would be tempted to send him updates or find some other excuse to reach out.

Another text message popped up two days later.

Hv thgts on fics meet?

Shit u cnt answr sry I call

Rey's phone rang. She heard a deep voice say, "Shit, shit, fuck, hang on." Scrabbling sounds and more swearing.

"Adam?" she said into the phone.

"Yeah, I dropped my fucking phone on the floor of the car. Sorry."

She had to laugh, imagining him digging around trying to grab his tiny phone. "Got it?"

"Yeah. I have thoughts on the fanfics. Can we talk?"

"Sure. I wasn't entirely sure what your message said."

"Yeah," he sighed. "My texting sucks."

"Your phone is perhaps a bit small for your hands."

"Huh," he said. "Probably. Like breakfast? I'm on a fucking diet again, but I can drink coffee and eat some peanut butter on oatmeal."

"Sounds… uh, delicious." She wrinkled her nose at the thought.

He laughed. "No, it sounds awful—because it is. We have to meet early or else I get mobbed."

Rey clutched the phone. "How early?"

"Rusty will open for me at 5:30."

"AM?" Rey was never up that early.

"Yeah. Wanna talk fanfiction at five in the morning?" He chuckled.

"Oh sure, why the fuck not." She doubted she could be coherent at the ass-crack of dawn, but she'd give it a try.

He laughed. "Sorry."

"What's the name of the place."

"Uh, Rusty's."

"Oh," Rey said. She heard more snickering. "Dude, now you're just pissing me off."

"Yeah, I have that effect on people. All right." She heard him clicking his tongue in the background. "Day after tomorrow."

"See you there. Can I buy this time?"

"Aw, fuck no, you can't. Bye."

He hung up on her. Unreal.

Adam was late and texted Rey the letters, l8 sry. He rolled in with his hat and hoodie on again, his hair damp. He leaned in to say hi, pulling off his hat, and giving Rey a little squeeze on the shoulder and a kiss on the cheek. He smelled like shampoo. He plopped his big self into a too-small chair and tried to arrange his massive feet somewhere under the table.

Rusty, a red-haired individual with a big mustache and bigger belly, ambled up to the table. Rey ordered oatmeal. Adam looked aghast.

"No, no. You don't want that here. Rusty's omelets are the best. Bring Rey your special veggie one." He leaned over the table and tapped his fingers in front of her. "You should try it. So good."

"Okay." Rey was a little taken aback by Adam's enthusiasm.

Rusty grunted and left to get coffee.

Rey put cream in hers while Adam took a sip of his.

"So," she started. "You have thoughts?"

Adam wiped his mustache. "Yes. After my initial freak-out about the stories, I have been thinking about them. I read them again, trying to divorce myself from the … character or context or whatever."

"All right," she said. "Tell me."

"The Marvin story—about how I supposedly adopted my dog—makes some sense, even though that's not at all what happened. I can see how someone would want to…" He stopped and stared off into space. "No, never mind. I don't get it at all. Or, well, I didn't get it. I kind of get it now. Maybe."

Rey had a bit of trouble following that logic, so she took another sip of coffee and waited for Adam to collect his thoughts.

In the meantime, Rusty wandered up carrying a plate for Rey and a bowl for Adam and plopped them down.

Adam pointed at her eggs with his spoon. "Tell me what you think."

She took a bite. He was right. It was an amazing omelet. She told him so and he smiled so broadly that his dimples showed.

"Didn't I tell you?" He made a face at his oatmeal. "This stuff is fucking sludge."

"Want a bite of mine?"

He lifted his head and stared at her. "Yes," he said, softly. Then he shook his head. "No, no. Trying to be good."

"One bite is not going to throw you off your diet." Rey raised her brows and waved a piece of omelet at him before shoving it into her own mouth.

"Fuck." He stared at her plate.

"I won't tell."

"You're a bad influence." He picked up a fork and cut off a bite of omelet. He ate it and got this look on his face like he was in heaven. She wondered if that's what he looked like… Never mind that. She pulled back from that thought so fast that she got brain whiplash.

"Good?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "So good."

"Why the worries about your diet?" Rey asked before she could stop herself. She didn't mean to pry into his private life.

He stared at her for a minute. She was about to take it back.

Then he said, "I bulk up for certain roles and then have to drop weight for other roles. The camera adds pounds. My weight depends on what's required."

He returned to eating his oatmeal—she to her omelet.

After he finished the bowl and slurped some more coffee, Adam said, "This fanfiction writing is a way for fans to speculate on what it would be like if they were my …" He swallowed hard. "I can't even fucking say it."

"Girlfriends?" Rey supplied.

He stroked his beard. "I guess." He was clearly uncomfortable. He shifted his feet under the table. She moved her own feet back under her chair to make more room for him.

"Yeah, maybe. Hard to say," she said softly.

"Fuck. It creeps me out."

"I understand."

"I think it could lead to an obsession. Someone writes a story and then decides to come find me. Like it's for real." He rubbed his eyes—he looked tired.

"It could lead there, I suppose," she replied. "But the act of writing the fantasy out doesn't necessarily lead to acting on it. It could, instead, meet the need."

He looked intrigued by that idea. "I guess," he mused. "One writer wrote the 'you' character as a fellow actor, which was supposed to get me interested."

"Would it?"

"I don't know. In theory. But that's not how I ask…" He stopped and pressed his lips together again.

He didn't want to reveal anything about his private life. Rey was amazed he was talking to her at all, so she said nothing. She kept her face as impassive as possible.

"Did you have any thoughts on the other stories?"

His eyes shifted back to her. "They're really not about me. I don't recognize much in them that has any connection to my life, other than the name of a character I played."

"Did you like the stories?"

He showed no expression whatsoever. "I'm not going to judge the stories. They're not to my taste."

Rey laughed. "They're not written for you anyway."

Rusty strolled by and refilled their coffee cups.

After he left, Adam settled back in his seat. "Who are they for?"

"Fans—as readers. But I think they're also important for the writers. Fans are creative. They're interacting with the stories and characters in creative ways. They're making their own artworks—written or visual."

Adam shook his head. "I don't know. I still wonder if it doesn't foster a climate that is dangerous to actors who play these roles. I'm not convinced that everyone has your grip on the difference between fiction and real life."

"Well, you shouldn't use me as a gauge of that," Rey replied. "I'm not a fan."

He rolled his eyes and laid one big hand on the table. "Now you tell me." Then he winked at her.

She almost fell out of her chair. "I don't mean it like that," she said. "You know what I mean." She felt her face redden.

He grinned. "No, I don't. Explain it to me."

"Just because I curate fanfic doesn't mean I write it."

Adam digested that idea. "I see. Well, could you? Are you a writer?"

She nodded. "I am. I write other kinds of fiction, but my main focus is on writing poetry. That's my area of expertise."

He shook his head slowly. "Fuck, you would be a poet, wouldn't you?"

"What does that mean?"

He waved his hand at her clothing. "You look like one. Long hair in that half-up ponytail. Those little hippie tops in winter."

"Huh. I didn't realize there was a poet outfit. Maybe I should dress as a bus driver instead." Rey tilted her chin up and looked down her nose at Adam.

He hid his smile behind his fingers. "I'm imagining that right now." He raised his eyebrows, squinted, and then looked her up and down.

She stuck her tongue out at him and produced another round of laughter.

"I guess you saw Williamstown, then." Adam gazed at her, amusement crinkling his eyes.

"I did. I enjoyed it—it is a poet's film. I had to see what it was about."

"Poe… uh… Dameron, the director, tried for a poetic feel to the movie. He showcases a worker-poet, much like Williams, the bus-driver character I play."

"It worked. I could see the influence of William Carlos Williams in the storyline and character. Williams was a doctor by trade who wrote poetry, including a poem called Williamstown about a fictional New Jersey town. I read that Dameron made the movie as an homage."

Adam's mouth dropped open. "You sound exactly like a professor.

Rey laughed. "I teach poetry as well as write it. I'm deep into a unit on Williams right now."

"Huh," Adam said. "I learned about Williams and his poetry when I studied for the part. I didn't know a whole lot about American poetry until I took the role."

"I guess you learn a lot from your roles," Rey said.

"Yes, I'm always ready to learn something new. Now, I know about fanfiction, which seems to be a real genre." Adam paused. "Hey, why don't you write something?"

"About what?"

He shrugged. "Battles, I guess. Or whatever."

She shook her head. "I don't know enough about the plots and characters to do that."

"Neither do some of these writers. Kylo Ren adopts kids? That's not even in the Battles universe."

"It doesn't have to be," she replied. "It's a Modern Alternate Universe story. Or something like that. The fanfic world has its own terminology."

"Why not just write original characters? Why Kylo Ren in Manhattan?" Adam genuinely wanted to know.

Rey took a fortifying sip of coffee. How was she the explainer of all things fanfiction when she didn't even write it?

"I have a couple of theories."

He raised his brows and leaned forward. He looked so eager that she almost laughed. Why was he so interested in this?

"One theory is that writers find it easier to work with familiar characters. They have parameters to guide them and don't have to create as much context or characterization. Another is that they like to play with these characters." Rey started warming to this topic. "And maybe they enjoy sharing their love of characters with others who appreciate reading about Kylo Ren in Manhattan. Maybe it's a game to see how such a character would deal with adopting kids with a woman like Kira."

Adam paused. She watched him process what she'd just said. "It's a protected community of like-minded people, like theatre. Actors and directors mess around with characters and put them into situations and see what happens."

"Yep," she replied.

"We do it physically, while writers do it in writing." He stared off into space.

"Do you borrow characters to see what would happen if they were in a different environment or storyline?" Rey asked.

He nodded slowly. "Yes. Absolutely. Hamlet goes to Manhattan. It's usually done as improv."

"There you go," she said. "Same thing."

"But," he pointed a finger at her. "Hamlet's not real."

"Ha," she replied, pointing back. "Neither is Kylo Ren."

"Fuck." He crossed his arms. "Fuck."

"What do I get for being right?" Rey smiled at him.

"We're not done with the debate yet." He took a sip of coffee and thunked his cup down on the table.

"Whatever. I won this round." Rey stuck her nose in the air and gave him the side-eye.

He watched with a smirk forming on his lips. "Write me a story."

"Oh, hells no. That would mean you won. You write me a story."

He shifted around in his chair. "I'm not a writer. I have no idea how to write a fucking story."

"It would be interesting. The Kylo Ren Diaries by Adam Sackler."

He put his head down on the table and banged his fist. "No, no. Stop the nightmare. Disney would kill me."

Rey almost fell off her chair laughing at him. He tried to look mean but ended up chuckling along with her.

Soon thereafter, Adam checked his watch and said he had to go. He texted someone and stood to leave.

"Can I pay?" Rey stood and looked around for Rusty.

"I already said no. Your money's no good here." He leaned in for a kiss. The man was all about those cheek kisses. Both sides.

"Hmm," she said, making a kissy noise near his ear.

He looked at her. "Well, all right. Do it, then." He touched his cheek. Rey had to tiptoe up and he had to bend down. "You are so fucking small," he remarked as she pressed a quick kiss on one cheek. He turned his head and pointed to the other side. "Here, too." She kissed him on the other side, too.

"Thank you. See, I remembered this time," she said.

He shook his head, not saying a word, just giving her a narrow-eyed look. He turned to leave, said goodbye to Rusty and called behind him. "Write me a fucking story, Rey."

"No," Rey called after him.

She heard him laughing as he left the diner.

Later in the evening, Rey got a text. Write me a fucking story. See, I spelled it all out. I hate this phone.

Of course, she couldn't reply by text. The fiend had not given her his real number, so she couldn't respond.

She wrote an email to Lily.

Please inform Mr. Sackler that I may be able to accomplish the task he set for me. I have an idea. Maybe. Will be in touch.

The next day, another text message. Good. KR in Manhattan = theme.

Rey sat down as soon as she could, cracked her knuckles, and wrote the story. She gave Kylo Ren what she thought would be a typical day in Manhattan. She used every Galactic Battles reference and character she could think of to make old Kylo's day full of surprises.

She sent it attached to an email and wrote, Here ya go. She remembered she might be writing to Lily, so she added, Thanks, Lily, for passing this along.

Two days later, Rey got a text message. Not complete no love story more.

Rey sat back and stared at her screen. The man was giving her notes. He who was freaked out about fanfiction was giving her fucking revision notes.

Rey gritted her teeth and wrote, Fine, in an email, deciding to forget about Lily entirely. She was pretty convinced the email address was a puppet account for Adam anyway. She pulled up the story on her laptop and revised it to add a meet-cute date with Kira at the end of the story. Then, she decided she couldn't just tack a fucking meet-cute on, so she rewrote the whole thing to include Kira as a love interest from the beginning.

She sent it again and wrote, You asked for it. She didn't add, motherfucker, though she kind of wanted to. He was making her nuts.

She waited, knowing he was going to say something else. Just waited. He sat on it for three days while she stewed.

The next message popped up while Rey was in class, teaching. Sex scene?

She lost her train of thought with her students, who watched her glance at her phone repeatedly.

She seriously wanted to call and yell at Adam. She jumped on email when she finished up her class: OMG, you crazy man, you don't want to read a fucking sex scene in this!

An email popped up an hour later. Lily thinks you are a stalker. LOL. Sex scene or else! Not a real fanfiction story. Make it good. Lots of giggling, dancing emojis followed.

Then he texted eggplant and peach emojis from his phone with a big LOL.

Rey added the most ridiculously explicit sex scene she could write, with dicks, cunts, and clits everywhere, and sent it via email with gritted teeth emojis.

Another email came through two days later: Very dirty writing, could have written sex scenes for Women's Lives, wtf? Now, who's getting spanked? Ren or Kira?

Rey did not know how to reply to that question. She pondered the answer for a day. Fuck. How could she write a spanking scene into this idiot fiction that this crazy fucker was making her do? She was shaking her head over the whole thing. And worse yet, she couldn't tell anyone. He'd made her promise at Paddy McGee's.

A text message followed the email. Yes? Who?

She sent an email. You, if you don't shut the fuck up.

Five minutes later, her phone rang. Private caller. Now she was going to yell at him. She answered and heard snorts of laughter on the other end.

"Me?" he gasped. "You… you…" He was hee-hawing like crazy. "You're what, five feet tall, 100 pounds, maybe? I could put you in my shirt pocket and carry you around all day. I haven't laughed this fucking hard in years. So much fun picking on you."

"Clearly," Rey said. She groaned. "I'm so going to kill you. This is not at all amusing."

"Yes, it is. I know you're laughing."

"I'm not laughing." Rey bit back a smile. "Though you're clearly enjoying yourself."

"And you're not? Yes, you are. I can hear a smile in your voice."

"All right," she huffed. "You caught me."

There was a long silence. "That's what friends are for," he said, softly.

"Are you my friend?" she asked.

"Nope." He chuckled again. "Maybe. I don't know."

But, oddly enough, he was.

Rey didn't hear from Adam again for a couple of weeks. She felt a little sad because she had enjoyed talking to him. Fanfiction must have drifted out of his consciousness as he went on with his life. The whole thing had been a momentary diversion. Rey still checked her email and sighed when nothing from the puppet account popped up again.

One afternoon while hanging out at the House Sugar office, Rey got a phone call from a number she didn't recognize. She answered.

The caller mumbled, "We've got your boyfriend's address. Check out what we did. You will be next." She hung up.

The photo that came through Rey's message app was of a house with slurs painted on it. They were odd slurs, though, calling someone a racist and an Islamophobe. She didn't know what was going on, didn't know whose house she was looking at.

As she stared at the photo, she received another text message saying that she would be next. That's when Rey began to grow frightened.

TJ was in the office with her. "Holy shit. Did you see this?" TJ shoved away from the desk and turned her laptop around

"I just got a weird phone call." Rey held her phone up.

"What?"

Rey looked at the laptop and saw the same house with the same slurs. "What is that?"

"That's apparently Adam Sackler's upstate house. Somebody broke through the security systems and spray-painted this shit on the outside."

"Holy fuck. Holy fuck." Rey was horror-struck. "Someone called and threatened me."

"Oh, shit."

She showed TJ the photos and the text.

TJ called the police.

With shaking hands, Rey emailed the puppet account, though she didn't think it would do any good. They were probably on total lockdown.

The police arrived and Rey showed them everything. They said there wasn't much they could do. They seemed unconvinced that she knew Adam Sackler. She was afraid they might take her into custody as a crazy fan who might be—at worst—responsible for this graffiti, or—at best—taking advantage of this situation.

Jess rolled into the office and TJ brought her up to speed on recent events. "I would lock down your account, Rey. Maybe change your number," Jess offered. She put her arm around Rey.

Rey sat in a stupor. It was way too weird.

Her phone rang again, another number she didn't recognize. She stared at it, wondering what to do.

Then she answered it.

"Thank fuck," Adam said. "I've got her. Rey, are you all right? Where are you?"

"At the office."

"Okay, sending security there now. Write these phone numbers down." He barked out orders like he was in the military. Rey wrote the numbers down with numb fingers.

"The first one is security. My team. The second—take me off speaker."

"You're not on."

"The second is my number. I'm not supposed to… Yeah, I know that…" he sounded irritated. "But she's… they named her. No, fuck, no, she's not… Because I know."

"They think I'm involved."

He sighed. "Yeah. Everybody's losing it. Including me."

"Adam, this isn't due to fanfiction."

He blew out a breath. "I know it's not. Look, when the team gets there, would you be willing to go with them?"

She paused. "Where?"

"Here."

Adam said he wanted security to talk to Rey to make sure she was safe. She agreed and found herself in a black, nondescript SUV with a driver and another gentleman in the front seat. They said their names, but she couldn't remember them.

They drove around the back of a building and the driver opened a garage door with a remote. They parked and all three got out of the car and onto a freight elevator. One gentleman used a card to swipe a small pad before he was able to press the button. The elevator rose to the top floor and he swiped again to release the doors.

They emerged into a hallway that resembled a hotel. They headed to a door and knocked. Lily opened it, and they all entered a plain white hallway. Rey heard a dog woof in the background and Adam's voice shushing Marvin.

Rey walked down the hall into the apartment itself. It was palatial with a huge open space and a large island in the middle. Sunken seating areas were clustered around big picture windows with stunning views of the cityscape. Rey sucked in a breath, not believing her eyes.

Adam rose from the bar stool he'd been perched on at the island. Marvin, who lay underneath the chair, raised his head. He wagged his tail and began to rise.

"Leave it," Adam said, softly. Marvin settled back down with a soft groan.

Adam's face was drawn and tense. He looked tired but permitted himself a small smile when he saw her. He took her hands in his and searched her face.

"You okay?"

Rey nodded and felt tears start in her eyes. She blinked hard.

"Aw, shit." He tugged her into an embrace. "I'm sorry about all this." He hugged her tight, with her nose squashed against his chest. One big hand stroked her hair.

"Adam." Rey heard someone behind her.

He let her go. "Oh, for fuck's sake. She's crying. Give me a break. And give her a fucking tissue."

Lily got up and grabbed a box of Kleenex. She handed it to Rey.

Adam still looked annoyed. He barked at the team of people around him. "It's not her. You checked her out." He gave Rey an apologetic look. "Sorry, we had to do it."

Rey waved her hand. "I get it. You guys don't really know me from…" she stopped.

"Adam?" he finished.

"Just an expression," she muttered. "Not trying to joke here."

His lips twitched with a tiny smile that reached his tired eyes for a second.

Then, the team got down to business. They made many recommendations and gave Rey handouts to read. Adam got her a bottle of water and cracked one open for himself. Marvin emerged from under the chair to put his nose in Rey's hand to check her out. She stroked his head and received a doggie lick. Adam caught her eye.

"He likes you," he whispered.

The main security guard stopped talking. "Excuse me?"

"My dog likes Rey," Adam said with a smile.

"Oh."

Adam and Rey exchanged glances. He rolled his eyes and she tried not to laugh. Marvin settled down in the space between their two stools.

The final recommendation was for Rey to stay with a friend that night—or better yet, a hotel. She was reeling with information, so she said she'd have to think about it.

Adam shooed everyone out. He and Marvin walked them all to the door. "Let Rey have some time to think. You guys go finish meeting downstairs. Call me if you have updates."

She stared at her phone. "I can call TJ and stay with her."

"Yeah, okay." He perched on his stool. "Is she the red-haired one or the dark-haired one?"

"Red-head."

He nodded and they sat in silence.

"I'm sorry," Rey murmured. "I feel like this is my fault somehow."

He shook his head. "Pure coincidence. It's the work of an obsessed … I don't know if fan is the right term. But… they are crazy. It's not about fanfiction at all."

"Maybe there is a connection between people indulging in fantasy and slipping over the border into obsession." She looked at him.

"Could be. The team thinks they're just crazy people looking for attention." He reached out and took her hand in his. He squeezed it. "I'm not supposed to do this. They're having a fit because…" He looked away and gave a short laugh. "I want to ask you out."

She raised her eyebrows. "Out? Like out on a date?"

"Yeah." His eyes met Rey's. "I like you. But I've been advised against it."

She stared at him. "Advised against…? Oh, be still my heart." She pulled her hand out of his.

He scratched his nose. "I'm not good at this."

"Ha," she said. "That's true."

"You don't have to agree so quickly," he huffed. "Anyway, in doing some research, I found out some things about you. I'd like to, uh, go out. Whatever that means. I guess, well, try to see if we could… you know, date. Each other. You're not in my world of famous... You know. I kind of like that."

"Okay, what do you know about me?" She gave him her hand and he clasped it tightly in his.

"You're from the Midwest, like me."

"Yeah, Michigan."

He rubbed his thumb on her hand. "Indiana, near the border."

"Yeah, I know."

"Your dad was a minister?" he asked, though Rey was sure he already knew the answer. "Mine, too. I grew up going to church…"

"Singing in the choir, acting in the holiday plays, learning to play piano…"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Yeah. How'd you know? I don't remember telling anyone…"

"I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about me," she interrupted.

"I was in a lot of school plays, too." He smiled.

"Youth theater workshop every summer. I suck at acting, though, so I ended up singing in choruses. I'm a horrible actor, and I have a minor in theater."

Adam laughed out loud. "You do not!"

"I absolutely do. I'd show it to you, but it's back at my house. My minor is in teaching theater at the secondary level, not performing."

"Directing?" He was almost chortling.

"Yep. I suck at that, too. So, I behave myself and teach. And write poetry."

He stood up and tugged at her hand. "And fanfiction."

Rey hopped off her chair. "I don't write fanfiction; I curate it. What're we doing?"

"Going over here to the comfy seats," he said, dropping a long arm around her shoulder. "God, you're tiny. I can't date you. You're too fucking small. I'll accidentally break you in half or something. Step on you because I can't see you."

Marvin followed and plopped on a bed in the corner with a great big doggie sigh.

Adam sat down on the sectional and pulled Rey with him. He put his arm around her and snuggled her close. He kissed her temple.

"You know what really got me, though? The real reason I want to date you?" He looked down, lips twitching.

"Yeah?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "What is it? Our common background?"

"Nope." His eyes roamed over her face. "It's because we share a birthday, and I won't have to work too hard to remember yours."

"That's what did it, huh? And here I thought it was my spectacular fanfiction." She smiled up at him and touched his cheek.

"That, too." He dipped his head down and stopped just next to her lips. "Kiss?"

Rey nodded. He touched his lips to hers, and she looped her arms around his neck.

Rey didn't stay with TJ that night—or any other night. She didn't even stay at her apartment again—due to Adam's ongoing security concerns. She let her lease go.

Adam declared that it didn't matter anyway since it was Rey's duty to wander the fucking globe with him. He suggested she write a series while they were traveling.

She gave him her usual side-eye, while he struggled to keep a straight face.

"What series?" she asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

"Kylo Ren in France. Kylo Ren films a movie…"

"Oh, fuck," she said.

"Don't forget the sex scenes," he added with grin.

He is so not funny.