Page 22 of The Fangirl and the Grump

“Why?” she asks, cocking her head. “You think I’ve never had my heart broken? That I haven’t needed to get my groove back after said heartbreak?”

“Have you?” I ask in a challenging tone, one brow arched high.

“Nuh-uh. We’re talking aboutyouright now.”

I stare at her for a moment, then nod slowly. “To be continued, then.”

“Fine. I’ll tell you someday. I promise. Now, back to you. Are you going to go out with Jacob again?”

“I don’t think so,” I answer, my voice dropping an octave. “Like I said, I didn’t really feel anything, not even a drop of sexual tension.”

“Too bad. He’s pretty hot,” Willow says.

“Right?” I shoot back, then slump in my seat. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“Well, have you felt any of those sparks you speak of for anyone else in town?” Willow asks.

Trace’s face pops into my head, and I choke on the sip of coffee I was in the middle of swallowing. Willow watches me with keen eyes as I cough to clear my airway, then take another long drink to soothe the sting in my throat.

No fucking way am I telling her the onlysparkI’ve felt is when her brother had his eyes on me last night.

While I was on a date with someone else.

“Nope,” I chirp when she continues to stare at me with suspicion.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums in response.

“Do you know of anyone who’s hiring?” I blurt, desperate to change the subject.

“Hiring?” she asks, taking the bait just as I’d hoped. “Are you planning on putting down some roots here after all?”

“No. Nothing like that. I just need a temporary, part-time gig to keep me busy while I’m here. Plus, having a little extra cash wouldn’t hurt so I don’t blow through my entire savings.”

Willow’s gaze pierces mine for several beats, then she nods. “You should work here.”

“What? Really? I mean, I wasn’t fishing for a pity job or anything, I swear. I just thought you might know––”

“Yes. I’m serious,” Willow says, cutting off my word vomit and reaching out to clutch my forearm. “I actually need help. With the Cursed convention coming up in a few weeks, I need to order and stock some movie memorabilia, rearrange the store to make room for it, and maybe create some fun Cursed-themed drinks and snacks. You’ll be here through the whole event, right?”

“I will,” I say, excitement flashing through me. “And I’d love to work here with you.”

“Perfect. It’s settled, then. Can you start tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I exclaim. “What time?”

“Six a.m.,” she says.

“I’ll be here,” I promise, then twist my arm out of her grip to take her hand. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“I should be thanking you,” she says, squeezing my fingers. “Now, let’s finish eating so we can fill out your new-hire paperwork. Welcome to the Moonstone Mystic family, Keegan.”

“Thank you,” I repeat, feeling gratitude for not just the job, but the real, pure compassion she’s shown me since the moment we met.

This is what friendship should feel like. Honest. Unconditional. Generous.

And I swear, I’ll be that kind of friend to Willow in return.

It’s the least I can do to pay her back for all her kindness.

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