Page 67 of Fangirl Down

Hiding his smile, he caught up and kept pace with her. Down to the end of the hallway, where they touched the wall, turned and started back in the direction they’d come.

“Depeche Mode.”

“No,” she answered without missing a beat.

“Bad Bunny.”

“You’re casting a very wide net.”

“Give me the decade, at least,” he complained.

“Only because you’re shirtless.” She glanced over, lips pursed. “The sixties.”

He growled. “That would have been helpful in the beginning.”

She hip checked him, briefly interrupting his stride. “I help you more than enough.”

Truthfully? He kind of loved Josephine in a bad mood. “That’s true. You do.”

They tapped the hallway wall, turned, and continued, jogging in companionable silence for a few minutes. Until, “It’s the Beatles, isn’t it?”

“Nope.”

Wells groaned.

“You’re getting closer.”

“There’s that.”

“There’s also this.” She knocked on a random hotel room door and then sprinted ahead at three times the speed they’d been jogging. Leaving him in her dust. Making it look like he was the one who’d knocked. Wells boomed a laugh, but it cut off abruptly when the door Josephine had knocked on opened a few yards behind him.

“Uh... yes?” called an older man into the hallway.

Without turning around, Wells picked up speed.

Josephine had disappeared back into her room.

No. She wouldn’t. She wouldnotclose the door on him, leaving him out in the hallway shirtless, caught red-handed as a doorbell ditcher.

Spoiler: yes, she would.

Wells skidded to a halt outside her door and grabbed the handle, rattling it violently. Locked. “Oh. You aresowrong for this, belle.”

Her gasping laugh reached him through the door.

“Open it.”

“Son, did you knock on my door?” called the man on the other end of the hall.

“Sorry about that.” Wells gave a stilted wave. “Wrong room.”

Dude wouldn’t leave it at that. “Aren’t you that Whitaker fellow?”

Josephine was all but dying on the other side of the goddamn door. “You’ve had your fun,” he ground out, though he was also... smiling? “Let me in.”

The door clicked open and Wells stormed inside, letting it shut behind him while he watched Josephine huddle against the far wall of the room, face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with mirth.

“Looks like you’re feeling better,” he remarked, wishing he could taste that laugh, feel it against his mouth.

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