I told myself that Britain First members wouldn’t want anything to do with Reachers and that people who’d gone to my secondary school couldn’t afford a winning bid. But that opened up another can of worry. Would anyone bid for me at all? If they didn’t, I’d suffer social death live on national television. If they did, the higher the bid, the more I’d be expected to perform.

  We were stopped at the side of the stage, and someone came and applied some makeup to my cheeks and forehead while someone else asked me to thread a microphone through my T-shirt. A few quick technical checks and we were on our way. “Don’t forget to smile,” said Colin as he and I ascended the stairs. I was glad to be in uniform when we stepped out onto the stage. I wear safety boots when I’m doing emergency work and they give me a little bit of extra height. Between that and my hair, I look quite a bit taller than my natural five foot ten. The blue fireman’s jacket has metal plates on the shoulders and broadens me considerably. I didn’t used to be this vain, honestly, but the sudden media attention had underscored all my physical shortcomings.

  There was another, more important angle to all of this, though. My powers seemed to draw their strength from the belief and confidence of others. Kelly always had faith in me, as did my parents, a few friends, and people like Colin. They enabled me to become my best self. But I couldn’t take Kelly with me into dangerous situations, and without her around, I was just an ordinary guy in brightly colored clothes. The more people knew about me and saw me as a hero, the more they trusted me on sight, the more useful I could be. Colin’s plan wasn’t just to raise money for Reachers, but to raise the public awareness of me and enable my ace.

  The stage lights were dazzling. Beyond them, I could just make out rows and rows of red-backed seats. The Troubadour held up to about two thousand people and, by the sounds of things, it was pretty full. A wave of applause washed over us, and with it, a newfound sense of strength. Anxiety settled into mild worry. My breath came that bit easier. Senses sharpened, muscles grew stronger. I could feel that I had a few fans in the crowd, real ones. The wave I gave them was genuine.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentleman,” said Colin. “I think we all know why we’re here tonight.” He gave an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle that got a filthy laugh from the audience. “This is your chance to date an ace. All expenses paid, no matter how long the night goes! And he’s a fine-looking specimen, wouldn’t you agree?”

  There were a few cheers and the odd wolf whistle.

  “Why don’t you give them a twirl, Hero? Let them see what the fuss is about.”

  Because I’d rather die? I didn’t say. I just stapled that smile to my face, opened my arms, and turned for the crowd. Unbelievably, I saw people standing up with their phones to take pictures. It was surreal. Colin kept up the patter throughout.

  “If you want to come face-to-face with McHeroface, you need to act now! Remember that all money bid tonight is going directly to Reachers, which means that whatever happens, you’re all winners in our eyes.”

  Behind us was a large projector screen that showed alternating images of me, a candlelit table for two, and a countdown clock. I did my best not to look at it. Instead, my eyes roamed the crowd. Many of the people here would also be bidding. For every person I saw that seemed okay, there were three or four that really didn’t. A group of particularly rowdy women sat in one of the boxes. A hen party. Loud in the way only drunk people can be. One of them wore a cheap tiara and was blowing kisses in my direction.

  Colin had noticed them, too. He got me to wave at them, and they all laughed hysterically and waved back as a spotlight picked them out. “A special good evening to Tiffany and her angels, who’ve clubbed together to ensure she enjoys the last days of single life as much as possible! If you’d like to support Tiffany’s bid to date our Hero, the number to call is on your screen now. Or you can use the Reachers app.”

  Tiffany leaned over the edge of the box to scream: “I love you, Heroface!”

  I decided in that moment that I’d date anyone Colin threw at me, so long as it wasn’t Tiffany.

  “But what’s this?” said Colin. “I’m just getting word that we’ve got another special guest in the audience.” The spotlight began to race among the rows of seats, dancing over faces too fast for most people to follow. But I could follow it, and I could see the direction it was going, so I was already grinning by the time the light had settled on her face.

  “Stella,” I whispered. There was a mix of surprise and excitement in my voice; amplified as it broadcast through the speakers. My face went tomato red to hear it. The microphone! I’d forgotten I was wearing a microphone. I cleared my throat and tried to deepen my voice. “Hi, Stella.”

  She looked as surprised as I was and mouthed back a hello.

  “Can we get a mic over there?” asked Colin. “I’m sure we’d all like to hear what she’s got to say.”

  Stella

  Here we were in the spotlight together again—although this was way more public than the reading I’d given Stuart. That was a smallish local charity event. This was a televised big deal.

  The cameras on us now were the real kind. Beside me, Vickie fidgeted as if she might jump out of her skin if I misbehaved. It’d been her who’d talked me into showing up for this charity event for Reachers and who’d talked me into a fancier half-sheer version of my regular T-shirt ensemble; I’d refused to budge on the jeans and boots. That and remembering how cozy she and emcee Colin had been at the first event made me wonder how much of this moment had been cooked up by the two of them.

  The speed with which the runner with the microphone appeared at the end of our row and started shimmying in toward me all but confirmed my theory.

  Stuart’s surprise was real, though—just like mine. And I couldn’t leave him hanging, which he clearly half expected. His nerves radiated even through his winsome good-natured indulgence of the spectacle, and I suspected I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the slight stiffening of his posture at the wild bachelorette party’s attention. I hadn’t managed to save him from Hero McHeroface. The least I could do was save him from humiliation and a horrible fate now.

  I’d never admit it, but I’d kept an eye on the news related to Reachers, worrying when I read about them being sent to some far-flung locale to rescue people that I might see Hero McHeroface had been injured. Certainly, I’d never mentioned anything about it to Vickie. But she did like to show me the notifications when the fans who wouldn’t let it go brought up our photos from that first night in England. Her charm offensive was going well, but she’d told me earlier in the week she was determined to take me to the “next level.”

  “I know this was you,” I said under my breath. She put a hand to her chest like, Me? I gave her a look.

  The mic holder finally made their way past the other people and arrived at my seat. Vickie grabbed my arm and urged me to my feet, trapping herself awkwardly beside the smiling volunteer. Better than she deserved, the chirpy (okay, fine, also good at her job) schemer. I smiled back at the volunteer, then at Stuart. Who, to be honest, I could barely see any more with the spotlight shining down on me.

  “Hi there, Stuart,” I said, and paused for effect. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  The crowd loved it to the tune of squeals and laughs and applause. I lifted my hand to shade my eyes so I could catch his reaction.

  He laughed, too, but the nerves weren’t quite gone. “What are the odds?” he asked.

  Good job. We grinned at each other across the way-too-crowded room.

  Vickie lifted her hand to shield her words from the mic and whispered, “Ask him out!”

  There was a tense silence, and I didn’t know what would be worse. I could not say anything else and see what happened or…“Stuart,” I said, “do you think I should bid on you?”

  That the words had come out of my mouth were as much of a shock to me as…anything I’d ever said. I was far too old for him, not only in years but attitude. Vickie practically bounced up and down next to me. She had her hands clasped under her chin like a little girl.

  “It wouldn’t hurt my feelings,” Stuart said with a hint of shyness that made me understand why Vickie might behave this way. He was adorable. If—again—too young for me.

  Colin spoke into the mic then. “It feels like maybe we have a date here that’s meant to be—what do you think out there? Use the number on the screen below now or hit the app if you want to see our own Hero and Stella Sumner out on the town together.”

  I sat down and waited with active tension as the time to choose Stuart’s fate elapsed. He joked with Colin onstage like before. But his posture was looser. He seemed full of confidence, but not in the irritating way. The bachelorettes shouted my name, “Stella!” and gave me giant thumbs-downs and shouted for people to vote for Tiffany instead.

  I shrugged and said, “It’s for a great cause, everyone, vote your consciences!” as loudly as I could make myself.

  My cheeks were burning at the unscheduled performance I’d been asked to give.

  “Three—two—one—” I held my breath when Colin raised his hand and counted the end of the clock as it ran out. “And that’s an end to bidding for our own Hero—let’s see who the lucky lady will be…” Colin paused. “Got any plans for the weekend, Stuart?” he asked, playing at casual.

  Stuart narrowed his eyes at the other man, who was absolutely enjoying himself. I wanted to punch him, too. The waiting was excruciating, even though I told myself I didn’t care about the outcome. This was a ridiculous situation. I just wanted it to resolve.

  Uh-huh, my little stargazer: I could hear my mother. At least she wasn’t here and wouldn’t see the video of this all the way back home. I’d never hear the end of it.

  “Nervous?” Colin asked Stuart along with a raise of his eyebrows.

  “A bit, yes,” Stuart said.

  “How about you, Tiffany?” The spotlight found her and she shrieked.

  The bachelorettes had won, then. They were hometown favorites, I guessed, and I got ready to plaster a huge, gracious smile on.

  “But wait a second. How about you, Stella?” Colin asked, the spotlight swiping back around to me. “Are you nervous? Or do you already know how this is going to turn out?”

  Vickie poked me in the ribs with her elbow. Which really should have been my move. “I’m just happy to be here supporting such a great charity.”

  “Well, we’re grateful to hear that—but of course the public has chosen to send you on a date with our eligible Hero here. We wish you the very best time!”

  The crowd dissolved into applause and I felt way more victorious than I had any right to—very Sally Field, “You like me! You really like me!”—when the obvious answer was they liked Stuart. It was impossible not to.

  “Congratulations, you’ll make a lovely couple,” a woman with enormous earrings leaned forward from the row behind us to tell me.

  Vickie gave me another cheeky nudge as Colin moved on and some of Tiffany’s bachelorette party made that we’re-watching-you motion between their eyes and me. Don’t worry, girls, I’m out of it after that.

  “All in a day’s work?” I asked Vickie.

  “Oh, come on, it’ll be fun,” she said, batting her mink lash extensions.

  “Will it?” I asked.

  She shrugged.

  What was this obsession with fun? It probably meant she’d been put up to this by my mother. I could envision the conversation between them now, with Vickie mentioning the cute hero I’d met that first night and how people loved us together and and and…

  We hung in until the end of the hour and I figured we’d leave and if we went on this date for real the arrangements would be handled via phone calls and texts. But Vickie steered me toward the backstage area. “We should say hello and figure out next steps for you and Stuart.”

  Vickie had the demeanor of a pushover but was really the exact opposite. She could get you to do almost anything. Case in point, this entire evening. “Fine,” I said.

  “Do you want to touch up your lipstick?” she asked.

  Too far, Vickie. “No, thanks,” I chirped back at her. She made a face.

  We reached the wings and a security guard said, “No one allowed back here, miss,” but Vickie was already shouting, “Colin!”

  He made his way over with a huge grin. “That went better than we could’ve imagined,” he said. “Thanks for playing along,” he said to me.

  Stuart walked over, a little hesitant, just in time to hear that. I swear it hit him like a physical blow.

  “Hah,” I said, “you should thank Stuart for playing along. I had no idea. I was just here to support Reachers.”

  “They did this?” he asked and looked between Colin and Vickie. But I noticed his shoulders relaxed at the news I wasn’t in on it.

  “Yes. I’m afraid we’ve been managed by our publicity handlers,” I said. “Sorry about that.”

  “You said yourself it’s a great cause,” Vickie said.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” Stuart said. “Without you, I might be, ah, looking forward to an evening out with someone else out there.”

  The Tiffany brigade, I’m sure we were both thinking. “True. Now you’re stuck with me.”

  “Speaking of that,” Vickie interrupted, “when shall we schedule your big date? I’m thinking this could be a great opportunity to raise even more money…” Vickie and Colin launched into a conversation about us that Stuart and I were obviously completely unnecessary for.

  “Did you think the hero line would be like this?” I asked, taking a step closer.

  He considered. “I thought there would be less bidding on me.”

  “Really?” I asked. “How’s your sister—what was it, Kelly?”

  A real smile then. “She’s doing pretty well.” It faded. “I worry about her sometimes.”

  “Why?”

  A click and a flash cut into what felt like an actual conversation, and a nice one. Of course, it was third wheel Vickie snapping us with her digital camera.

  “We’ll talk soon, I’m sure,” I said, regretting not finding out the answer about his sister.

  But the last thing I needed was to encourage Vickie’s fixation on this. Particularly if my mother was involved. Which I’d be getting to the bottom of as soon as I got back to my apartment here in London.

  “Bye, Stuart,” I added.

  “See you soon, Stella.” I had the feeling he watched us as we walked out of backstage. I would have to be careful not to stomp on the puppy’s heart. Maybe we could be friends.

  Stuart

  “See?” said Colin as he drove me home. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  “No. But it could have been.” I thought about Tiffany and her “angels.” Ugh. Too close.

  “You need to have more faith in me, Hero.”

  “Maybe if you told me what you were up to beforehand instead of springing it on me, I would!”

  “I couldn’t tell you about Stella because it had to feel spontaneous. You’re not exactly the best actor in the world.”

  “Thanks,” I replied with all the sarcasm I could muster.

  “No, I mean that in a good way. People respond to you because you’re genuine. They can see how much you like her and they’re all for it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, come on. You practically glow every time you see her.”

  “I don’t!”

  “Yes you do. It’s adorable.”

  I was glad that it was dark and Colin was looking at the road so he couldn’t see me blushing. “I hardly know her.”

  “That’s what the date is for.”

  I turned toward the window to hide my grin. “Yeah.”

  “Like I said. Adorable.”

  “Shut up.”

  Colin just laughed.

  For the rest of the journey my thoughts drifted through imagined dates with Stella. Nothing very coherent. Just us sitting at a restaurant together, her smiling at me. Me smiling at her. I was just imagining what it might be like if we got close when a nasty thought occurred to me: The word date was awfully vague in the context of a Reachers event.

  “Colin?”

  “Yes?”

  “What is this date going to be exactly?”

  I got a sidelong glance. “That’s up to you, Hero.”

  “Colin! Don’t mess me about. What’s the plan?”

  He sighed. “There’s no grand plan. You’re going to have dinner together and—”

  I cut him off. “Where?”

  “The Ivy.”

  “What’s that like?”

  “It’s in Covent Garden, near the West End. Lots of famous people eat there. It’s the perfect place for a celebrity couple to have a first date.”

  I frowned. It did sound nice. Maybe a little too nice. What was I going to wear? It occurred to me that she’d only ever seen me in the clothes I wore when I represented Reachers. This time I’d be in my own clothes. Stella had style. I didn’t. She was going to realize that the moment she saw me. Shit. I reimagined us meeting for this date. Her looking fabulous and me looking…like me. She wasn’t smiling in this version.

  “We’re going to cover the food and drink,” Colin continued, “so you can be as generous as you like.”

  “How private is it going to be?”

  There was a pause, long enough for me to know I wouldn’t like the answer. “Nothing too invasive. Just a quick interview with each of you beforehand.”