Page 1 of The Fangirl and the Grump

ChapterOne

Keegan

“Keegan, stop hanging your head out the window like a dog.”

“Ahh-wooo!” I howl, a laugh bursting out of me when the innocent pedestrian we’re passing jumps, both feet losing contact with the pavement as her hand flies to her chest.

“Jesus,” Madison huffs under her breath.

I turn toward her and blow a kiss, noting the tightness of her jaw and her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. I let out an exaggerated groan and flop back into my seat.

“Come on, Mads,” I plead. “We’re inEvening Shade. Can you at least try to have a little fun?”

She doesn’t respond, and I twist around to face the two in the back. Sloan is taking selfies with a stern, badass expression, and Pressley has her nose buried in the pamphlet she grabbed at the gas station where we stopped to fill up on the edge of town.

“The bus leaves at nine a.m. That should give us time to grab some coffees and pastries at Moonstone Mystic before we board,” she says, the only one of my friends attempting to enjoy this trip.

They only came here for me. I know that. I’m the one who’s a certified member of the Cursed fan club…a bona fide, wolf-obsessed CursedCub. A Lucas and Aria-loving, moon howling, fan letter-writing, these-movies-defined-my-teen-years super fan.#TeamLAriafor life!

And I’m also the only one of us who’s life just took a shit into a raging dumpster fire.

So, yeah, the girls planned this trip to cheer me up. Losing myself in the world of Lucas and Aria’s love story, seeing the landmarks that made Evening Shade famous was a surefire way to peel me off the couch and make me shower the dried, dribbled ice cream splotches caked in potato chip crumbs off my chest and arms.

I appreciate the effort, I just wish Madison and Sloan would get into the spirit. Be more like Pressley. At least she’strying.

During the four-and-a-half hour drive from Seattle, Madison has worn a perpetual frown while Sloan has barely spoken two words. In her usual fashion, Pressley has kept up a steady stream of chatter in an attempt to ease the uncomfortable silence and keep my spirits high.

“Oh, look. It’s Wolfsbane Tavern,” I say as we slowly make our way through town. “That’s where Aria and Lucas met for the first time. She spilled soda all over his lap.”

“We know,” Madison sighs. “You’ve only made us watch the movies a million times.”

I grind my molars together and don’t respond. Her tone sucks, but it’s not surprising. Madison was never into Cursed, even as a teenager, and she’s always been openly disdainful of the fandom. But sheisone of my best friends. She offered to let me move in when I needed a place to stay after, well,after, saving me from having to leave Seattle. She’s always had my back, and she planned this trip despite her abhorrence for the franchiseandall things having to do with the great outdoors.

She introduced me to Sloan and Pressley, both of whom she’s known since high school. We all just kind of fell into our roles, and I like to think we compliment each other. Pressley is the exuberant one, Sloan is the kickass one, Madison brings culture and sophistication to the group, and me?

Well, I’m the funny one. At least, I like to think I am, anyway.

“God, could this place be any more of a cliché?” Sloan grumbles from her seat in the back.

“Shut up, Sloan. This is for Keegs,” Madison says, her tone turning sympathetic with those last few words as she shoots me a small smile.

Did I mention Madison’s mood swings are legendary?

I return her smile with a small nod of thanks, then straighten when I look back at the road.

“There,” I say, pointing to the dirt drive on the left. “That’s it!”

Madison slows the car and signals before turning onto the drive. A large cabin looms before us as the car rolls to a stop, and I have my seatbelt off and my door open before Madison can even shift the transmission into park.

“Lycan Lodge,” I say as the others climb from the car. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“It looks nice,” Pressley says as she steps up next to me.

The other two don’t respond as they heft our bags out of the trunk. I can’t wait another second to see the inside, so I tell them I’ll grab my stuff later and rush up the porch steps. Pulling out my phone, I find the code for the digital lock in my confirmation email and press the numbered buttons to disengage it. Swinging open the door, I step inside.

Rustic, with lots of raw wood trim and plaid furniture, it’s quaint perfection. There’s a decent-sized living room that connects to an eat-in kitchen. Wandering through, I run my fingers over the back of the overstuffed couch and breathe in the pungent pine scent of the place.

A hallway to the left leads to four bedrooms and a communal bathroom. After peeking through each door and finding each room to be charmingly decorated, I head back out into the main space. Sloan and Madison are in the living room, eyeing the place with critical expressions. Before I can ask them what they think, Pressley huffs through the door, rolling both our suitcases behind her.

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