Page 39 of The Fangirl and the Crooner

“Yes,thatpart,” I grumble. “I was acting a bit skittish, and he proclaimed that what we were doing was stupid. That we were ignoring what we both wanted. And when I asked him what that was, he said he really wanted to kiss me.”

“Swoon,” Keegan sing-songs, and Willow lets out a dramatically contented sigh.

“One thing led to another––and I’ll give more details when we’re all together, if you want––and let’s just say we had an amazing morning. When Trace and Gavin saw him at the tavern, I guess they figured it out, and Gavin asked him if we were in a relationship or doing a friends-with-benefits type deal. Bram texted me to come see him during his break so he could inform me, in no uncertain terms, that he doesnotwant to be friends with benefits.”

“Double swoon,” Keegan sings, making me chuckle.

“I’m so happy,” I say slowly, “but I’m also worried about what will happen if this doesn’t work out. I don’t want to lose his friendship.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Willow says.

“You don’t know that,” I argue.

“Well, I know Bram, and I know he won’t let that happen. If things don’t work out romantically, he’ll still be your friend,” she counters.

“I hope you’re right,” I say in low tones.

“She is right, and besides,” Keegan says, “you’ve already had sex. If it’s going to cause problems in your friendship, it’s already too late. You might as well go all in and enjoy the hell out of it while you can.”

“Which will be forever,” Willow adds. “I’ve got a great feeling about this.”

“Thanks, guys,” I say to them both, feeling much better than I did when I got here.

They’re right. We’ve already jumped into this, and there’s no going back. We just have to move forward and see where this thing goes.

And just like Bram, I am definitely all in.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Bram

“Welcome. What can I get for you?”

“I’ll just have a glass of Pinot, please.”

“Coming right up.”

The woman slides onto a stool as I take her order, and a surge of awareness tattoos down my spine. I don’t know her. I’ve never seen her before this very moment. But there was something in her eyes as she spoke to me. Something I’ve come to recognize very well.

She knowsexactlywho I am.

I brace myself for the gushing compliments and maybe even a little flirting as I turn back around with her glass, but I’m left stunned and frozen when I see a single teardrop track down each of her cheeks. Setting the glass on a cocktail napkin in front of her, I take a deep breath and offer her a larger napkin to dry her face.

“I’m sorry,” she says with a self-deprecating chuckleas she takes the napkin and uses it to dab her cheeks. “I’d say I don’t know what came over me, but that would be a lie. You’re him, right? The crooner from BingBang?”

“Bram,” I say, offering her a hand to shake over the bar.

“Natalie,” she says as she takes my hand and gives it a firm shake. “You have a beautiful tone to your voice. And that song changed my life.”

I’ve heard those words before. Tipsy women gushing over my performance while trying to peak my interest. Shy women lowering their eyes and quietly asking for selfies. Women who are barely old enough to drink telling me my music somehow changed everything in the lives they’ve barely just begun.

It’s never meant anything to me other than a passing annoyance, but something in Natalie’s eyes tells me this is different.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” I ask, pulling a clean glass from the sink and drying it with a towel.

Listening to people talk is commonplace for me. Familiar. Comfortable.

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