“It’s just us,” Elena said.

“We’re the Cupcake Gals,” the other woman said. “We thought we’d bring Star Wars cupcakes? For the line?”

“Great!” Troy said.

The Cupcake Gals held on tight to their boxes.

“It’s just . . .” the first woman said, “we were going to take a photo of the whole line, and post it on Instagram . . .”

“I can help you there!” Elena said. Those cupcakes were not going to just walk away. Not on Elena’s watch.

Elena took a selfie of their line, the Cupcake Gals and a theater employee all holding Star Wars cupcakes—it looked like a snapshot from a crowd— and promised to post it across all her channels. The lighting was perfect. Magic hour, no filter necessary. #CupcakeGals #TheForceACAKEns #SalaciousCrumbs

The Gals were completely satisfied and left both boxes of cupcakes.

“This is the first time I’ve been happy that there were only three of us,” Elena said, helping herself to a second cupcake. It was frosted to look like Chewbacca.

“You saved these cupcakes,” Gabe said. “Those women were going to walk away with them.”

“I know,” Elena said. “I could see it in their eyes. I would’ve stopped at nothing to change their minds.”

“Thank God they were satisfied by a selfie then,” Gabe said. His cupcake looked like Darth Vader, and his tongue was black.

“I’m really good at selfies,” Elena said. “Especially for someone with short arms.”

“Great job,” Troy said. “You’ll make someone a great provider someday.”

“That day is today,” Elena said, leaning back against the theater wall. “You’re both welcome.”

“Errrggh,” Troy said, kicking his feet out. “Cupcake coma.”

“How many did you eat?” Gabe asked.

“Four,” Troy said. “I took down the Jedi Council. Time for a little midday siesta—the Force asleepens.”

It was the warmest day yet. Elena wondered if she could take a nap too. Maybe not. It seemed even weirder to be asleep on the street in the middle of the day than at night.

“You hate the prequels more than anyone I’ve met,” Gabe said, licking his thumb. “These cupcakes are really good. You should tweet about them again.”

“I don’t hate the prequels,” she said.

“We ranked our top thirty characters, and the only prequel character you listed was Queen Amidala.”

That was the only prequel character Elena knew . . .

“I mean you must really hate them,” he said.

“All right,” she said, “I feel like I owe you a debt, after you helped me last night—”

“You do,” Gabe said. “Not quite a life debt. But I did save you from peeing your pants twice.”

“So I’m going to tell you a secret,” she said. “But you have to promise not to use it against me.”

Gabe reached over Elena’s legs to get another cupcake. “How could you possibly have a dark secret involving the Star Wars sequels? Are you responsible for Jar Jar Binks?”

“Do you promise?” she asked.

“Sure, I promise.”

“I’ve never seen the prequels.”

“What?” Gabe spit crumbs all over both of them. Elena shook them out of her ponytail. “How could that happen?”

“It didn’t happen,” she said. “I never saw them.”

“Was it against your religion? Are you some sort of Star Wars purist?”

“Sort of,” Elena said. “My dad was. He wouldn’t let me see them.”

“Did he lock you in a tower?”

“No. He just told me they were terrible. He said they’d . . . corrupt my love of Star Wars.”

“And you never thought of watching them anyway?”

“Not really. It’s my dad.”

“How does he feel about the sequels? Are you here undercover?”

“I don’t know,” Elena said. “I haven’t heard from him.”

Gabe looked confused.

“He’s sort of in Florida.”

“‘Sort of in Florida’ is our band name,” Gabe said.

“Don’t tell Troy,” she said.

“I won’t. He’d probably make us watch them all on his phone.”

Elena looked down. “Now you’re probably thinking that I really am a fake geek girl.”

“I try not to think that about anybody,” he said. “If anything, this makes you an uber Star Wars nerd. A Star Wars hipster. You’re like one of those people who only listens to music on vinyl.”

“Do you think I should watch the prequels?” she asked.

“How would I know? I mean, I’d watch them. I couldn’t know there was more Star Wars out there that I hadn’t tapped. You could have double the Star Wars in your life.”

“Did the prequels corrupt your love of Star Wars?”

Gabe gave her a very Han Solo-like grin. “It was already corrupt, babe.”

They both laughed. This was not the Gabe she’d been sitting next to for two days.

“I don’t know,” he said, more seriously. “I saw the prequels before the original trilogy.”

“What?” It was Elena’s turn to be shocked. “That’s all wrong. That’s a perversion.”

“It is not!” Gabe said. “I think it’s how George Lucas intended it. It’s the higher order.”

“George Lucas doesn’t even know what he intended,” Elena said. “He can’t even decide who shot first.”

“I saw the prequels in the theater,” Gabe said. “When I was a kid. I thought they were awesome.”

“And now?” she asked.

“They’re my first love,” he said. “I can’t be objective.”

Elena hugged herself. “I don’t think I’ll ever see them. I feel like I’d be letting my dad down. Like he’s going to show up some day, and ask whether I’ve seen Attack of the Clones, and if I say yes, he’ll take off again.”

Gabe looked like he was thinking. “So . . .” he said, “you won’t mind if I spoil them for you.”