Page 22 of The Fangirl and the Crooner

Pressley is gone when I get home, so I have some extra time to consider Trace’s advice before I see her. I think he’s right, and Ihaveforgiven her for her mistake. He’s also right about the other thing, too.

I do want more.

I always have, since the moment we met. But she’s been a bit skittish from the beginning, flirting with me, then backtracking into the friend zone when I try to flirt back. If she could get past her apprehension, I think we could have something special together.

But I’m not going to push it. Not while she’s living here and has nowhere else to go. I don’t want her to think she owes me anything or that my hospitality comes with strings attached. I’ll just work on repairing our friendship, on getting back what we had before, until she decides to make a move on me or moves out. Whichevercomes first.

The sound of the front door opening jerks me out of my thoughts, and I lean against the kitchen counter in an attempt to look casual before Pressley walks in. As she rounds the corner, her steps stutter and her cheeks turn pink.

“H-hey,” she says, then seems to shake herself and stiffen her spine.

“Hey. Have fun with the girls?” I ask, keeping my tone light and casual.

“Always,” she says with a smile. “You had a good time with Trace?”

“As good as can be had with that grumpy bastard,” I joke, and her smile widens a bit.

Silence falls between us, and her smile dims as it grows awkward. I rack my brain for something to say.Anything.

“Well, I’ll be in my room if you need me,” she says before I can come up with something, then scurries out like a scared rabbit.

“Fuck,” I mouth, straightening before turning to brace my hands against the counter.

Leaning forward, I drop my head and roll it back and forth in an attempt to loosen the tight muscles in my neck. That did not go how I wanted or expected. Lifting my head, I turn my stare toward the empty hallway.

I need to do something. Make some kind of plan that will force us to spend time together. If we don’t, we’re never going to fix what’s broken between us.

Looking around for inspiration, I pause when my gaze lands on the stove. We could cook dinner together. We’d have to be in the same room andcommunicate, then we’d eat together in a nice, relaxed atmosphere.

Moving around the kitchen, I check the pantry, cabinets, and fridge. While there is food here, I don’t have the right ingredients to make a full meal. I pause, thinking for a moment, then my lips start to curve upward.

This is perfect, actually. If she agrees to my idea, we’ll have to go buy groceries. Shopping can be fun, right? And that’ll give Pressley more time to feel at ease around me before we get to the cooking part.

Decision made, I head down the hallway and knock lightly on her bedroom door. A few seconds later, she opens it, her slight smile looking more nervous than happy to see me. Staying the course, I lean against the doorjamb like I don’t have a care in the world and hold her gaze.

“So, I was thinking, and since I don’t have to work tonight, I thought it might be fun to cook dinner together.”

Her eyes widen like that’s the very last thing she expected to come out of my mouth. “Dinner?”

“Yeah,” I say, keeping my tone light and relaxed. “There’s not a lot in the fridge, so I think we should go grocery shopping. We can decide what to make while we’re there. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun,” she repeats, looking a bit dazed like she can’t decide if she’s hallucinating this conversation or not.

“Yes, Pressley. Fun. Are you in or out?”

She blinks slowly, bites her lower lip in a way that has my thoughts shifting to a completely different arena, then nods.

“I’m in.”

“You are?” blurts out of my mouth before I can stop it. I honestly thought I’d have to work harder to get her to agree.

“I am,” she says, her smile turning genuine, and it nearly takes my breath away. “Give me a few minutes to get ready.”

I nod and push upright from the jamb. We stare at each other silently for a few beats, just grinning like maniacs, then she shakes it off and takes a step back. I tell her I’ll see her in a few before spinning around and fleeing the scene.

Because if I didn’t, I was going to push forward into her room and find out if that gorgeous grin tastes as good as it looks.

Down, boy.

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