Page 21 of The Fangirl and the Grump

I dry off and unpin my hair from the bun I’d twisted it into to keep it dry in the shower. As I comb through the blonde lengths, an idea pops into my head.

Maybe I could get a job. Something easy and part-time, a temporary gig to keep me busy and help replenish the savings I’ve burned through since I’ve been here. It might be hard to convince someone to give me a position for just a few weeks, but I can at least try.

Someone might be willing to take pity on me, and with the Cursed convention coming up soon, I’m sure some businesses will need help preparing for the inevitable crowds that will flood Evening Shade come the end of August.

Feeling more hopeful than I have in weeks, I get dressed and strap some sandals to my feet. Grabbing my backpack purse, I shove my phone and some lip gloss inside before pushing my arms through the straps. Heading out, I use the keypad to lock the door behind me and start the trek to town.

First order of business? Coffee. The stuff I brewed at the lodge just isn’t the same as the sweet concoctions Moonstone Mystic offers. Plus, I might need another one of those croissant sandwiches.

When I walk into the shop, Willow is there with her usual ready smile.

“Keegan! I’m so happy you stopped by. What can I get you this morning?” she asks as I approach the bar.

“Hey, Willow. Same as last time?”

“You got it,” she says with a grin, then holds up her bare wrist as if she’s checking an imaginary watch. “And would you look at that. Just in time for my break.”

I return her happy grin, then nod when she waves me over to the same table we shared last time. After taking a seat, I pull my phone out to scroll social media out of pure habit. I catch myself just before my thumb taps the app to open it and freeze.

No. I’m not ready yet. If I see posts from the girls living their best lives after they wrecked mine, I might lose my shit entirely. And if Madison has updated her relationship status…

I need to block her. Block all of them. I know I do. But blocking them would mean seeing their profiles and updates first, and I’m just not ready for that. Not yet.

Willow’s sunshine vibe cuts right through the cloud of melancholy surrounding me as she slides into the empty chair and hands me an iced macchiato. I thank her with a smile, which she returns.

“Chuck will bring our food out when its ready,” she says.

“Chuck?”

She nods as she takes a sip from a mug that reads, “World’s Best Boss.” Swallowing, she says, “Morning shift cook. He preps everything in the morning to be heated up for customers throughout the day. He’s a godsend, really. It washisidea to add sautéed mushrooms to the ham and cheese.”

“Genius,” I say, nodding slowly.

“You’re telling me,” she says with a laugh, then sobers quickly to give me a narrow-eyed stare. “So…Jacob Stillman, huh?”

“Yeah. He’s nice,” I say, flinching internally at my own lackluster response.

“Did he pull out the handcuffs after dinner?” Willow stage-whispers, her dark eyebrows waggling.

An unexpected laugh barks out of me, and I shake my head with a sigh. “No. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a spark between us. At least, not on my end. Things gotrealawkward when he tried to kiss me goodnight.”

“Oh, no,” Willow says. “Too bad. He’s one of the good ones.”

“Maybe I’m just not ready,” I say, and whatever response Willow was going to give gets cut off as a man wearing a white apron approaches with two gooey, cheesy sandwiches.

“Thanks, Chuck,” she says as he sets the plates before us. “This is Keegan. Keegan, Chuck.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say. “This sandwich is to die for, so thank you.”

Chuck’s cheeks turn pink as he nods and backs away a few steps. Then he spins and speed-walks around the bar before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“Not much of a conversationalist, that Chuck, but he’s one hell of a cook,” Willow says as she picks up her sandwich. After taking a giant bite, she eyes me while she chews, a thoughtful expression on her face. Swallowing, she says, “I don’t blame you for being skittish. Jumping back into the dating pool after getting hurt is hard. But you’re only here for a couple of months, right?”

“Right,” I say with a single nod.

“So, nothing serious could come from messing around with the local boys. You could have a little fun, blow off some steam, and maybe fuck that douchenozzle right out of your system.”

“Willow,” I gasp, my eyes wide as saucers as she smirks right back at me. Then I laugh. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

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