Page 39 of The Fangirl and the Grump

Each time I see him or we text, I feel a little more comfortable with him. Like we’re settling into a friendship that’s simple and drama-free.

And honestly, I’m not really sure how I feel about it. Of course, it’s a good thing. I do like him and I want to be friends. But on the other hand, I still get butterflies in my stomach the moment my eyes land on him. I feel hot when he smiles or laughs.

And my lady bits squee with excitement when he pins me with that dark gaze, his eyes almost seeming to undress me before he shakes his head and reverts to friendly-yet-uninterested Trace.

As if I’ve conjured him, the man who’s occupied most of my headspace all week walks through the door. I smile brightly at him from behind the counter, and his steps stutter before he regains his stride and heads straight for me.

“Ready to try something sweet and creamy today?” I ask, then flinch as the innuendo in my words occurs to me.

Trace just laughs, though, and shakes his head. “My usual, please.”

“Bor-ing,” I sing-song, hoping the joke will cover my nervous reaction to my own snafu.

When I turn back to hand Trace his cup of black coffee, I find him staring at me. Hard. A shiver tiptoes down my spine, then a stronger one follows it as I hand him the cup and his fingers brush against mine in the process.

His pink tongue peeks out to wet his lips, and my heart skips a beat at the sight of it.Jesus.What is wrong with me?

“Hey,” he says, his voice so quiet, I almost don’t hear it. Then he clears his throat, adding, “Can I take you out to dinner tonight?”

Holy shit. Did he just ask me out?

I think he did, but what does it mean? Is it a date? Or will it just be two friends sharing a meal together?

I realize he’s still waiting for me to answer, and I shake my head as I say, “Yes.”

His lips curl up the tiniest bit, yet even that small smile reaches his eyes as he nods in response.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

My feet leave the floor as Willow’s voice startles the shit out of me. A tiny squeak bursts through my lips at the same time, and Willow looks at me like I’ve lost my mind before turning that gaze on her brother.

He just smirks, turns his gaze to me, and says, “Great. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

With one last nod, he turns and walks out. As I watch him go, Willow’s hand clamps around my forearm and spins me toward her.

“What was that?” she demands, her eyes wide with surprise.

My mouth opens and closes twice, then I shrug, saying, “He asked me out to dinner.”

“Finally,” she squeals, her face lighting up with glee.

“What do you mean, finally?” I ask with an arched brow.

“Girl, he’s been wanting to ask you out all week,” she says with firm conviction.

“How do you know? Has he talked about me?”

“Not exactly,” she admits, then steels her spine. “But I’m his sister, and Iknowhim.”

“Okay,” I say, drawing the word out in disbelief.

“Trust me, Keegan. This is agoodthing. And it’s definitely adate.”

How did Willow know I was questioning that? Maybe shedoeshave some psychic witch powers.

And if that’s the case, she might be right. Maybe this is a date, and the start of something different.

I smile so big, my cheeks strain with it. I can’t wait for tonight!

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