Page 6 of The Fangirl and the Playboy

Shit.I was hoping he didn’t notice my behavior that night. I’d been shocked to see Gavin walk in, even though I knew he was in town for the convention. And the fact that he walked in with Julia Warner on his arm only made seeing him for the first time in over a decade that much worse.

“Nothing,” I say. “I met him briefly when they were here filming the movies, and it was just weird to see him in person again. That’s all. I doubt he even remembers meeting me.”

Lies. All of it.

And by the skepticism in Trace’s expression, I can tell he doesn’t buy it. But he’s not going to push. He may be older than me by twelve years or so, but he realizes I’m an adult––some of the time––and knows how to choose his battles.

He also knows I’ll give him the details when I’m ready and not a moment before.

And I don’t know when I’ll ever be ready.

* * *

Twelve Years Ago…

It’s good to be home, living in my own room again. Of course, it looks nothing like it did when we moved out a few months ago, but I’m more than fine with it. The producers turned my room into “Aria’s,” and the new furniture and bedding is a definite upgrade from what I had before.

Now that filming is over, Grandpa, Trace, and I were able to leave the motel and move back in. At least, that is, until the cast and crew come back to film the second movie.

Stretching out on my new bed, I burrow into the pillows and sigh. As good as it is to be home, our return to this house signifies the end of my summer with Gavin. He hasn’t left town yet, but with only a few scenes left to shoot, I know he will soon.

We spent every spare minute he had this summertogether––swimming, fishing, hiking, and anything else I thought might be fun for him to try––and I’m feeling a little despondent over the loss of all that. Ofhim.

Because even though our relationship lacked anything that could even be slightly construed as romantic––Gavin treated me like a buddy, and I treated him the same––I can admit to myself that my feelings got a bit tangled up as the summer wore on.

He’s just so…perfect. Sweet and funny and courteous, not to mentiongorgeous, I’d have to be dead not to wish something more would happen between us. Like a hug that lasts a little too long while he burrows his nose into my hair and inhales like he might die if he doesn’t.

Okay, I know I read too many romance novels, but damn, I want something like that.

And I want Gavin Reese to be the first boy to kiss me.

It’s almost embarrassing, being nearly seventeen and having never been kissed. But, hell, when you live in a small town, and you’ve known all the boys since they were eating their own boogers in kindergarten, it’s hard to imagine any of them in a romantic light. Plus, if I let any of them kiss me, it would be just to get the first one out of the way, and that isnothow I want to remember my first kiss when I’m old and married with kids of my own.

A tapping on my window startles me, and I fly upright and press a hand to my chest to keep my heart from beating right out of it. But when I see Gavin’s smiling face through the glass, it doesn’t calm me down. Quite the opposite.

Swallowing thickly, I climb off the bed and creep over to the window. Twisting the latch, I unlock it, and Gavin pushes it up from the other side. I step back so he can climb in, my stomach fluttering and my heart pounding too hard, too fast.

“What are you doing, climbing up here like that?” I ask as he straightens to his full height.

He smiles and shoots me a wink. “I’ve had a lot of practice. Lucas climbs in Aria’s window…alot.”

His smile drops, then, and his expression grows serious. The fluttering in my stomach increases as his eyes drop to my mouth, and I’m sure this is it.

Gavin Reese is going to kiss me.

“We’re done,” he says.

“What?” I ask, my eyes stinging as he ends our friendship for good with those two simple words.

“Filming,” he clarifies, and the dark shroud smothering me lifts the tiniest bit. “The director called it a wrap tonight, and production booked us flights back to L.A. first thing in the morning. But I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Shuffling forward, he pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly against his chest. I inhale deeply, memorizing the smell of him and the way his arms feel around me. Then his lips press against the top of my head, and I think I might faint.

Please, please, please, do that to my mouth.

I shove the desperate thoughts away as he pulls back to meet my watery gaze. His brow furrows, and he offers me a gloomy smile.

“Don’t be sad, Willow. I’ll be back in a couple of months to film Phase.”

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