Page 75 of The Fangirl and the Grump

It’s been three weeks since I’ve spoken to Keegan, and if that’s not enough to send my mood straight to the shitter, the Cursed convention has begun. Evening Shade is crawling with tourists, most of them CursedCubs, and I’ve been howled at, chased, ambushed, and physically accosted by more women than I can count scrambling to get photos with their favoriteWolf Daddy.

The actor that played the character in the movie hasn’t shown up yet, the fucker, and I’ve been hiding out in my apartment as much as possible. Even going out in a baseball cap and sunglasses hasn’t protected me. These women are on the prowl, literally, and there’s no use running.

The good news is that the inn and all of my rental properties are booked to capacity. The small businesses in town are making huge profits, too, so I’ve beentryingto focus on the positive and see this whole circus as a good thing for Evening Shade.

It is. I know it is. I just wish it wasn’t so God damn annoying.

I can’t spend another minute in this apartment by myself today, so I decide to brave the crowds and head down to Wolfsbane Tavern. Bram is working, so if I can find a stool at the bar and keep my back to most of the crowd, maybe I can have a beer in peace and spend some time with my friend.

The tavern is packed when I get there, but somehow, I manage to slip through the crowd unnoticed. Thank God for small favors.

There’s even an empty barstool at the far end of the bar, and I almost smile as I slide onto it. Bram sees me and jerks his head in my direction from the other end, then grabs a bottle of my favorite beer from the ice chest and holds it up. I nod, and he pops the top off as he brings it over to me.

“Thanks,” I say when he hands it over. “It’s crazy in here.”

“That’s a good thing,” he says. “This thing is giving our economy a much-needed boost. I hope the organizers decide to do this every year.”

“Shut your mouth,” I gripe, and he laughs.

“Pressley is back,” he says, keeping his tone intentionally conversational. “She wanted to be here with Keegan for the convention.”

“How do you know?” I ask, wondering if Keegan has been in here to see him.

“Pressley and I have been texting,” he says, his tone nonchalant though his eyes speak volumes.

He knows I want to ask about Keegan. To see if Pressley has said anything about how she’s doing. He also knows I’m too stubborn to actually ask. But he’s not going to take pity on me and just tell me.

He knows how I acted that night in the bathroom––Willow ratted me out––and hadoneconversation with me about it. He made it perfectly clear he thought I was being a dumbass, then promised to never speak of it again until I was ready to admit it, myself, and do something about it.

Before he can say anything else, a loud cheer erupts, the roar bouncing off the walls and hurting my eardrums. Straightening my spine, I peer through the frenzied crowd to see the stars who played Lucas and Aria in the movies standing just inside the door, holding hands and waving to their fans. I want to be annoyed by the pandemonium, but hell, at least their presence keeps everyone’s attention offme.

Willow materializes out of nowhere next to me, and I slide off the barstool to offer it to her. She shakes her head as her gaze darts around the room nervously, so I slide back onto the stool and twist around to face her, using my back to shield her from the crowd.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“What?” she chirps, her shifty eyes snapping up to meet mine. “Nothing.”

She leans to the left to look around me, and I peer over my shoulder to scan the crowd. That’s when I see it.

That guy, “Lucas,” is staring back at Willow with an intensity that almost knocks me backward, and he’s not even looking atme. I turn back to stare at my sister with wide eyes, and she looks like she’s about to bolt. What the fuck?

“Hey,” I say, and her attention snaps back to me as she edges closer to the bar and out of the actor’s line of sight. “Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

“What?” she squeaks, looking thoroughly confused.

I jerk my head toward my left shoulder. “Why’s he staring at you, and why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’d never be surprised to see a ghost,” she says with a grin that doesn’t even come close to reaching her eyes. “I was just leaving, and I wanted to say goodbye.”

She pushes up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek, then grabs Bram’s attention and motions toward the door that leads to the kitchen, mouthing, “Can I go out the back?”

Bram, who’s been helping a crowd of women at the other end of the bar, nods and jerks his head in that direction.

“Willow,” I say sternly as she turns to leave, and she sighs.

“Don’t worry, big brother. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Then she waves and spins around, hurrying away on quick feet with her head tucked down. I spin around on my stool to face “Lucas” head-on only to see him frowning at Willow’s retreating form. He has his arm around “Aria’s” shoulder, and that one is tucked into his side like he’s her protector. And her lover.

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