Page 35 of The Fangirl and the Playboy

When he reaches out to flip on the light, my gaze lands on the window. My mind conjures a vision of Gavin, nineteen years old, tapping on the glass before I rush over to let him in. We’d talk and kiss for a while, then he’d hold me until I fell asleep before sneaking back out into the darkness.

My eyes flick over to him, and I see him staring at the window, too, a nostalgic smile on his face. Then he clears his throat and helps me over to the bed. I sit on the edge while he turns down the bedding. When I stretch out onto the mattress, he pulls off my sandals with deft fingers before pulling the sheets over me and tucking them close to my sides.

We lock gazes for several beats before he whispers, “Good night.”

“Good night,” I parrot back, and he turns, walking away on light feet.

He flips off the light and closes the door gently behind him, and my face falls into a deep frown.

He didn’t kiss me.

Wait. What? No.

Stop it, Willow. You’re drunk.

You’re friends. Nothing more. And friends don’t give friends good night kisses. Or any kisses, really.

All that Chinese food tumbles in my stomach, mixing with the booze in the most unpleasant of ways.

Yeah, that’s it. The food and the alcohol.

It has nothing to do with disappointment or desire.

Of course, it doesn’t.

ChapterEighteen

Gavin

Ican’t stop thinking about last night.

I had so much fun, and it wasn’t all because I got to be close to Willow. Keegan, Bram, Pressley, and even Trace were as welcoming as they were entertaining, treating me like an established member of their friend group and not some interloper trying to infiltrate their ranks.

I honestly felt like Ibelonged,and when was the last time I felt that way with anyone?

Maybe with Julia. We’ve been practically best friends for more than a decade, so I can be myself around her. No masks. No acting.

That’s how I felt last night.

As if I’ve conjured her, my phone starts to ring, and Julia’s name flashes across the screen. I immediately tense up, but not because I don’t want to talk to her. No, it’s because of what this call probably means.

She begged me to stick close to her when she was here for the convention because she’s been having some issues with the girl she’s dating. Her girlfriend wants to go public, tired of being Julia’s “dirty little secret.” I’ve always encouraged her to be her authentic self, but you can’t force someone who’s not ready to just give up the pretense and live their truth. If she refused her girlfriend’s request too many times, they may have split over it.

And every time Julia has a breakup, she asks me to be seen with her in public. I’m her security wall in case the ex decides to go public with the truth. I’ve always been that for her, ever since the first time I agreed and ended up losing Willow.

Fuck, I hope that isn’t what this is. Not when things are finally mending between Willow and me.

“Hey, you,” I say as a greeting when I answer, hoping there’s no anxiety in my tone.

“Hey, Gav. How are you?”

“I’m good. Really good, actually. This time in Evening Shade has been very…healing.”

“You’ve patched things up with her?” she asks, not missing a beat.

“Not quite,” I say, “but we’re getting there. I told her what really happened between us, that the whole thing was a publicity stunt, and she’s agreed to try to be friends again. But don’t worry, Jules, I didn’t tell her anything you wouldn’t want her to know.”

“I know that, Gav. I trust you. Actually, that’s why I’m calling.”

---