Page 87 of The Fangirl Project
“I was going to say ‘your kind of person.’ And—” Something bubbles up in my chest, and I swallow the lump in my throat. “And Chloe’s right, thatwasmean. Anissa’s great. She’s funny, and kind…She’s just shy, that’s all.”
“And a totalweirdo,” Nikita presses.
“Why? Because she likes different stuff than you?” My cheeks feel warm, and Nikita does a double take, but none of the girls are looking atmelike I’m in the wrong for calling her out, and I remember my conversation with Max through the bathroom door. “Why does it matter to you if she likes different stuff? It’s not hurting anyone. It makes her happy. Why is that such a problem?”
You could hear a pin drop, and I’m surprised to realize that the others are all waiting for Nikita to answer.
“I—I don’t…Well, I just…” She blinks a few times before saying, “Yeah. Okay.”
I blink back at her. We are in a blinking match of epic proportions. I have no idea who’s winning.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” she repeats. “Yeah, you’re right. It…shouldn’t matter? Iwasmean?” Even though she phrases them as questions, she looks sincere; just awkward.
“And?”says Daphne.
Nikita rolls her eyes, but says, “And…if you want to bring Anissa along to Thursday morning Costa debriefs, I won’t make digs at her or…be mean. I’m not saying Iget it,and sheiskind of weird, but…yeah, whatever. If you’re cool with her, I am.”
Chloe makes a funny squeaking sound.
Evie says, “Me too. I’m okay if she wants to hang out. As long as it’s not all fandom stuff.”
“It’s not.”
“Is she a witch?” Daphne whispers, wide-eyed and deadly serious.
“I don’t know! Well…I never asked. No? That’s notreallya thing, is it?”
“That’s not really a thing,” Nikita says.
“It totally is. Her nan—the Irish one—is a psychic,” Evie says knowledgeably. “I remember her saying in primary school. Her nan’s still got a website and stuff, she does readings online and seances.”
Nikita snorts, but her skepticism seems a little shakier now. She tells me, more softly, “Hey, you do you, Cerys. If Anissa doesn’t want to hang out with us, no worries, that’s up to her. It’s not like you have to pick and choose, or anybody’s giving you an ultimatum.”
I must look surprised, because all four of them laugh.
“Yes, God forbid you haveother friends,” Evie deadpans. She waggles her fingers at me. “It’s us or nothing, or I’ll curse you.”
This time, it’s Nikita who gives her a light backhanded swipe on the arm, while Daphne shudders. “Don’t even joke about that sort of stuff, it creeps me out!”
“I actually think it’s pretty cool,” Chloe mumbles. She gives me a squeeze, her arms still wrapped around me from earlier. “And Anissa’s hair looksmuchbetter these days. Good for her.”
“Listen,” Daphne says. “I swear, any time I bring up boy drama, Ihear it,I do, but…can we just go back to the Jake stuff for a second? It was abig deal! This is your best friend we’re talking about,the love of your life, whoapparentlyfancies you back based on his wild overreaction to you kissing another guy…although frankly, if he’s that pissed off, you’re better off without him. What a jealous, sad littleboy.I can’t believe he’s just cut you out of his life like that! He never seemed like that kind of guy when you talked about him. Even if heisbutthurt about you kissing his friend—”
“Did youreallykiss the cosplay guy?” Evie interrupts. “Have you got pictures?”
I nod and reach for my phone. As much as I appreciate where Daphne’s coming from with the Jake slander, I am—for once—more comfortable talking about Max instead. I still want to hope that maybe, somehow, there’s a chance to repair what Jake and I had.
This is just our act three conflict before the end of the movie. All good rom-com heroines need to think they’ve lost the man before they get the grand gesture, don’t they? And this isJake.We’ve been too close for too long to let this go.
I find the Brayden Brown selfie from Comic Con and point Max out, explaining, “Except obviously he doesn’t have long white-blond hair like that. Although his hair is alittlelong. And—”
“Is this him?”
Daphne’s shoving her phone in my face now, and I realize it’s a photo of the soccer team Max plays on, a shot of him kicking the ball. When I just stare, she says, “Jake tagged the team in his profile.”
Before I can confirm or deny, Evie’s snatched it, and pokes her tongue out over her teeth as her jaw drops.
