Page 51 of The Fangirl and the Grump

And when we finally tire out and plop down onto the couch, I look over at Pressley with a sigh. “You’re different.”

“We both are,” she replies softly.

“Why did we stay friends with them for so long?” I ask, leaning back to voice the question to the ceiling.

“I don’t know,” she says, the words slow and even. “At first, I just wanted to be like them. Classy. Sophisticated. Connected. And when I started working at the boutique with Madison, I could see a bright future in front of me. I thought we’d be partners one day, and I’d be on the same level as her.”

I turn my head to gaze at her. “You’reso farabove her level, Pressley.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, then shakes her head as if to clear it. “I realized a while ago that Madison, and even Sloan, only kept me around as some kind of lackey. Someone to simp over them and make them feel superior. But I didn’t know how to get myself out of it. I didn’t want to waste all the years and work I put into making the boutique successful, and honestly, I didn’t want to bealone. Having asshole friends seemed better than no friends at all. Plus, with them, I hadyou.”

“I don’t know why I stuck around,” I admit when she finishes. “Laziness, maybe. I didn’t want to start over as a grown woman trying to make new friends. It’shard.”

“But you did it,” she says. “You threw us all out of here like the badass you truly are.”

“I was mad,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been that mad before.”

“I should’ve told you,” she whispers. “I was weak. And terrified of what would happen when the truth finally came out.”

“You’re here,” I say. “You found your strength and faced your fear. That’s pretty badass, too.”

“Thanks for that,” she says with a sad smile. “It took a couple of weeks of soul searching, but I finally figured out that I didn’t need Madison and Sloanortheir negativity in my life. That I needed to cut out the toxic people and hold onto the good ones. People who encourage me to stick up for myself and lead by example. People like you.”

A fat tear rolls down her cheek with that last bit, and the sight of it as well as the crack in her voice sets off my own tears. We stare at each other for a moment, then laughter bursts out of us. When we settle, I reach out and take her hand.

“I’m proud of you, Pressley.”

“I’m proud ofus,” she shoots back, squeezing my fingers tightly.

I hear my phone chime from the bedroom, and I give her hand one last squeeze before releasing her to go get it. Pulling the charging cord free of the port, I pull up my messaging app to see a text from Willow. Reading through it once, I hurry back into the living room where Pressley is shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“Hey,” I say. “That was from Willow. They’re having a cookout at the lake and want us to come.”

“Who’sthey?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Willow, Trace…andBram,” I say, accentuating the last name.

“The bartender from the tavern?” she asks, excitement flaring in her eyes.

“That’s the one,” I say.

“I’m in,” she says happily, then deflates. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit with me.”

“Neither did I,” I say, “but there’s a big box store on the edge of town we can hit on the way out to meet them. I’m sure we can find something there.”

I text Willow back that we’ll meet them there, and she responds with some easy directions to find the right spot. Pressley cleans up the living room while I take a quick shower, and I pack some towels, water bottles, and other necessities into a large bag while she showers.

When we’re ready, we climb into her car and get on the road, happy smiles lighting up both of our faces.

I get to hang out with Pressley, introduce her to Willow––I’m sure they’re going to love each other––andsee Trace again.

Life is good.

ChapterTwenty-Two

Trace

I’m setting up the portable grill while Willow and Bram argue like siblings when the crunch of gravel meets my ears. I look up to see a car I don’t recognize, but it only takes me a second to lock onto the gorgeous blonde in the passenger’s seat.

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