Grams looked at me. “I think you’d be an amazing editor, Hal. But the way you talk about books, you’re already a publicist.”
I dropped my spatula, contemplating. “Publicist?”
I had never even thought about it, but I liked the way the word sounded on my lips. Talking about books was the only time I felt like my words fit together.
“You should start a blog. See if it’s a good fit,” she said, wiping her hair out of her warm eyes, looking at me like she could see right through me.
I laughed. I loved reading book blogs—I got so many great recs from my favorite YA bloggers. But writing one? I was fourteen. Who would even listen? But … maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe if Grams thought it was a good idea, my dream wasn’t completely crazy.
“I could call it One True Pastry.” I laughed at my own silliness as a splatter of purple buttercream landed on the counter instead of in the bag. “Like One True Pairing. OTP.”
I thought of all my favorite forums filled with passionate debates re: OTPs and every combination of characters who were just meant to end up together.
Grams stopped mixing and faced me. There was a speck of frosting smudged on her nose and I’ll never forget the smile that burst onto her face.
“Hal, that’s perfect. There’s your hook. Cupcakes and books. What’s better than that?”
I’ve been Kels from One True Pastry ever since.
Creating a profile meant crafting an identity. It wasn’t that I couldn’t be Halle Levitt—I didn’t want to be. If I used my real name online, I wouldn’t be Halle. I’d be industry giant Miriam Levitt’s granddaughter. I’d get opportunities because I’m Miriam Levitt’s granddaughter. Or worse, people would compare me to her and tell me there’s no way I measured up. If people were going to follow me, I wanted it to be for the content.
I wanted to know if I was really good, or if Grams was just saying that.
Still, Grams presence has seeped into every part of my blog. I write my reviews the way I’d tell her about a book. And when I had to choose the name of my persona, well, that came from her too.
I wanted your parents to name you Kelsey, Grams said.
So I became Kels Roth, a combination of Grams’s favorite name and her maiden name.
With some experimentation and Grams’s guidance, One True Pastry grew. Kels was good. And I love that one of Grams’s books proved it.
Fireflies and You was the first time I re-created a full book cover with cupcakes, and it’s what put Kels on the map. Originally, the premise of One True Pastry was cupcake inspiration and I paired cupcake recipes with reviews. Then I started posting #CupcakeCovers on Instagram. The posts were simple—a close-up shot of a single cupcake on a plate. The details were in the design, the swirl of frosting colors and topping choices that were always directly influenced by the color scheme of a cover.
Then Fireflies and You happened and the book just changed something in me. It felt like I had to do more. Like I could. I didn’t talk to Grams about it at all first, like I usually would when I had a brand-new idea. I just did it and now the photo I posted two years ago has 110K likes on Instagram—a number that continues to increase.
Yeah, I check.
The buzz for the book got real. But honestly, so did the buzz for my blog. Thanks to the cupcakes, people started to read my reviews. Thanks to cupcakes, publishing began to notice me. Now publicists send me advance reader copies, with an enthusiastic exclamation point note attached hoping to connect. Beyond that, I found a whole community of people who love YA books as much as I do. I have friends.
I have Nash.
So really, this entire situation is all your fault, Grams.
“Halle!”
My eyes snap up and meet Ollie’s. He’s looking at me funny.
“Huh?”
“I said your name three times,” Ollie says. “Are you okay? You’re, like, not here.”
I shake my head. “Sorry, I just—”
Nothing I say will make sense, so I twirl too many cold noodles with my fork. Raise the fork to my mouth, and take a bite. Half the noodles land on my lap, soy sauce splattering all over my white shorts.
Awesome.
I stand up. Brush off Ollie’s concern. “I need to change. Yeah.”
Upstairs, I clean myself up in the bathroom and change into sweatpants. Sitting on the toilet lid, I scroll through Nash’s social media when my phone buzzes with a new message.
Nash Stevens
OK. I’ve waited for you to text me first long enough. Did you hear from Ariel’s fancy publicist? Did you get the cover reveal? I’m kind of dying here.
6:44 PM
I read the text in Nash’s voice for the first time. His actual vocal cords vibrating voice. It’s honestly wild.
maybe I did
6:47 PM
OKAY SO
6:47 PM
SO MAYBE I GOT IT
6:47 PM
NO WAY
6:48 PM
I mean, I totally knew you would.
6:48 PM
LOL nice save
6:49 PM
You cold emailed Ariel Goldberg’s publicist! And weren’t ignored! You’re a total badass.
6:50 PM
This is who Nash is expecting to meet. The girl who cold emails publicists. A badass.
what can I say? it’s a gift.
6:50 PM
You’ll totally get the panel now, at least!
6:51 PM
like bookcon is going to be interested in aesthetically pleasing cupcake photos.
6:53 PM
I migrate from the bathroom to the bedroom as I try to message Nash and pretend everything is normal, that I don’t know the exact color of his eyes or the sound of his voice. I settle on the most generic of generic messages.
what’s up with you?
6:57 PM
Not much. Some new kids moved into town. A sister and brother. The girl’s our age, I think. I met her at the library.
6:59 PM
She’s me. Two words have never been more impossible to type.
oh?
7:00 PM
Yeah! Seems cool. Kind of quiet, but we were in a library. I’m mostly basing my assessment off meeting her in the YA section.
7:00 PM
You know, where the cool kids hang.
7:01 PM
exactly what I was thinking.
7:01 PM
It was nice, meeting someone new under the age of 55. Most people come here for the senior life.
7:02 PM
they do NOT
7:02 PM
Swear to God.
7:03 PM
But anyways, meeting her got me thinking. Like, it’ll be cool when we meet.
7:03 PM
My pulse quickens. How would he feel if he knew we already had?
i’m a terribly awkward human
7:03 PM
I mean … mood?
7:04 PM
fair enough.
7:04 PM
but new girl is probably most definitely cooler than me.
7:05 PM
Eh, probably.
7:08 PM
He doesn’t say anything else, but I can feel his disappointment in the non-immediate response.
A knock on the door makes me jump.
“It’s me,” Ollie says and he comes into the room, Scout on his heels. She jumps on the bed and makes herself comfortable between my crisscrossed legs. Ollie takes a seat on the end, fists curled at his sides.
“You should apologize to Gramps,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
Ollie’s eyes are fire. “You couldn’t not be Kels for one day? We hadn’t even been here for an hour and—”