Page 20 of The Fangirl and the Grump

Keegan

Istare into my coffee cup, watching the steam rise and swirl as I contemplate my life. Of course, it only takes me a few seconds to sum it up––no friends, no real family, no job, no home. No one who loves me. No one I love.

Why is this happening to me? Did I do something to fuck up my karma?

Maybe I should ask Willow to use her crystals to cleanse my chi, or something.

Thinking of the quirky brunette, I smile. When I ran into her at the tavern last night, she seemed genuinely pleased to see me. My chest clenched in response, and I realized in that moment that I couldn’t remember the last time someone was honestly happy to see me like that. Not my ex. Certainly not my so-called friends.

And, God, it felt nice.

Then I realized Willow was with her brother, and my mood shifted. In the moment, I assumed it was anger. He was so fucking rude when he stopped by on Sunday.

Yeah.Fuck him.

But as the evening wore on, and I tried to focus on my date, I couldn’t relax. I felt it every time Trace Bardin’s eyes landed on me, like my blood was too hot, burning through my veins every time my heart pounded against my ribs.

And poor Jacob. He did everything right. He was courteous and kind. Complimentary. He made jokes to put me at ease. He exuded chivalry.

He was the perfect date.

And I feltnothing.

I tried. I really did. I mean, God, he’s hot as fuck. He looked good last night, obviously taking care in his appearance. He smelled good, too. I wanted to be attracted to him. To like him enough to take him back to the lodge and let him do wicked things to my body.

To make me forget, even for a little while, how truly shitty my life is right now.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find even the tiniest ember of desire for him.

When he took me back to the house after dinner, he got out and ran around to open my door for me. He held my hand and walked me to the front door. He told me what a great time he had with me, that he really likes me, and wants to go out again.

I used kind words, but at the same time, tried desperately not to lead him on.

And when he went in for a goodnight kiss, I panicked. I bobbed and weaved like a prize-fighter, went in for the world’s most awkward hug, then darted inside with an abrupt “goodnight” before things got any more uncomfortable.

I drop my head with a loud groan. What is wrong with me? I had this great guy showing an interest, and I reacted like a cold, dead fish.

My thoughts turn back to Trace and how I felt when I spotted him with Willow at the tavern. The way my heart stuttered when we locked eyes. The way I had to squeeze my thighs together every time I felt his gaze on me during dinner.

Yeah. I admit it. Knowing that man was watching me on a date with someone else turned me on.

There’s definitely something wrong with me.

Maybe I’m just attracted to assholes. Carter was one, for sure, even if I didn’t notice it while we were together. Trace is just more honest and open about it.

As I lay in bed last night thinking of him––annoying, right? I mean...why?––I realized his gruffness with me is kind of my fault.Kind of. I called him a nickname he truly loathes, twice. Granted, the first time, I was drunk and had no idea the comparison was such a thorn in his side. He should give me a pass for that one, right? And the second time, too. I was distraught over my friends’ betrayal and still didn’t know Trace hated being called “Wolf Daddy.”

But, hell, if he hates it so much, he shouldn’t strut around town looking just as hot as Joseph Lumin with all those muscles and that sexy, silver-sprinkled beard. He can’t really blame people for making the comparison. Not here, in this town, where the character was born and rose to stardom.

Yes, I do realize blaming Trace for being too sexy isn’t the most solid of defenses, but it works for me. It keeps me from adding shame and guilt to all the other negative emotions flooding through me at the moment.

I will die on this fucking bridge if I have to.

Sighing, I pick up the coffee mug and drain it. Pushing myself up out of the chair, I put the mug in the sink and head to my bedroom to grab some clean clothes. Picking a cute sundress I bought at the store on Monday, a strapless bra, and some underwear, I head into the bathroom to shower.

I need to get this day started, and I need to get out of this house. Other than my outing on Monday and my dinner date last night, I’ve been bouncing off these walls all week, wallowing in my anger and despair. I’ve watched the Cursed movies three times already, and even I can’t stomach the thought of watching them again to pass the time.

No more. I’m going to head to town and find something to do. Maybe there’s some club I can join that’ll give me something to look forward to while I’m here.

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