Page 19 of The Billionaire's Fan

Not Jeff: And do I need to come over there and stake my claim?

I laugh and turn the phone to Ryan, then start typing.

“Why is he in your phone as Not Jeff?” he asks.

“Because Jeff was the guy that I was supposed to meet.”

Me: He would rather fuck you than me. So, no need to come and stake your claim.

Not Jeff: Good to know. When can I see you again?

“He wants to see me again,” I whisper.

“Well, tell him to come over,” Ryan says.

“You just want to meet him. I can’t. That would look too needy. I just saw him yesterday.”

“You said that he was on some sort of break, right? That must mean he has to jump back on the road again. Why not take advantage of all this downtime while you still can?”

“But I’m hanging out with you. This is our night.”

“We can make it a threesome.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Me: Ryan and I are just hanging out. You’re more than welcome to come hang out with us, join in on the girl talk.

Not Jeff: I don’t want to interrupt your girl time, or whatever.

Me: No interrupting. He’s the one who suggested you come over.

Not Jeff: Be there in a bit

I look at Ryan and point my finger at him. “You need to promise me you will not fangirl all over him.”

“Oh shit, really? He’s coming over?”

“Yes.” I nod.

Ryan stands up and runs to the hallway bathroom. “Do I look alright? Does my hair look okay? Oh shit, I’m dressed like a slob. I need to go home and change. I need to add some concealer under my eyes. I’m not prepared to meet Asher Fucking Knight.”

I walk to the bathroom doorway and lean against the frame as he rushes past me. “You look fine,” I say, turning.

Ryan nervously paces the living room, while I tell him about our run-in with the paparazzi after breakfast. I tell him about watching the concert from the side of the stage.

And by the time I’ve gushed with how surreal my life has been the past few weeks, a car’s headlights creep up my driveway and a knock echoes through the living room. Ryan stops pacing and we look at one another.

“Well, are you going to answer the door?” he whispers.

I approach the door, then turn to him. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replies with a heavy breath to center himself, his hands nervously flexing at his sides.

I open the door and smile when I see the gorgeous man in front of me. I almost forgot that Ryan was behind me. He’s wearing light gray jeans with a formfitting black collared shirt. His hair is slicked back, and he has red Converse on his feet. His hands are in the front pockets of his jeans and I want to kiss his smirk off of his face.

“Howdy,” he greets.

“Howdy?” I look at him, the term not fitting to his persona.

“Is that not working for me?” he asks, stepping forward while placing his hand on my hip. He leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth as he continues walking past me.

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