Page 49 of The Fangirl and the Crooner

By the time we end the call, I’m more confused than ever, but thankfully, Shane tells me to take all the time I need to think it over, and he’ll be waiting for my call. I thank him and when we end the conversation, I lean back against the couch cushions and sigh.

I don’t know if this is what I really want. I’m so torn.

And I need to talk to Pressley.

This decision will affect her almost as much as it will me. She’s my girlfriend. She lives with me. How will she feel about the extended trips to California? Would she go with me? Stay home and just…what? Wait until I get back?

Our relationship is fairly new, but that doesn’t mean I can rush into this without considering her thoughts and opinions. She means too much to me.

As if I’ve conjured her, the front door swings open and she walks in, carrying an armload of grocery bags. Ijump up as she calls out a greeting, and I help her by bringing in the rest of the bags from the car and putting everything away while she chatters about her day.

She seems nervous, and her motions turn jerky and disjointed as we finish the chore. Like she knows I want to talk about my conversation with Shane Jakowski, and she’s not sure if she should surrender to it or run for the hills.

Centering myself, I take her hand and lead her into the living room. Sitting on the couch, I pull her down beside me and kiss her before pulling back with a sigh.

“So, the conversation with the guy from Starfall was…enlightening,” I say, and she gives me some caricature of a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

She sits like a wooden statue as I go over some of the details, skimming over the technical stuff and focusing more on the timeframe and travel requirements. I watch her closely as I speak, but she doesn’t react at all until I finish with a “What do you think?”

“That’s amazing, Bram,” she says, her tone almost as wooden as her posture. “A once in a lifetime opportunity. You deserve it. You deserve everything.”

She tries to inject some feeling into the words in that last part, but I’m not buying it. I search my own mind and heart as I stare at her, and it slowly dawns on me that I’m not disappointed by her lackluster reaction. Quite the opposite.

“Maybe I should tell him no,” I say, my words slow and careful as I gauge her reaction to them.

“What?” she yelps, the unexpected statement startling her out of her funk. “You can’t tell him no.”

“Why not?” I ask, tilting my head.

Her words are saying one thing, but her body is saying something else, entirely. I can see her pulse fluttering at the base of her neck as she puffs out a few harsh breaths. She’s practically vibrating. Like she’s on the verge of hearing the best news she’s ever heard in her life and the anticipation is overwhelming her.

She shakes her head, saying, “You can’t just pass this up, Bram. Starfall Records will make you a star. It’s every performer’s dream.”

“That’s just it, Pressley. It’s never beenmydream,” I say, and as the words pass my lips, something inside me settles. “When I write songs, it’s for me. When I perform them, it’s for my friends. I’ve never longed for stardom. Never even thought about, really, until now.”

“But you seemed excited when I gave him your number,” she murmurs.

“I was excited over the prospect of my music touching people’s lives, not over the idea of becoming a famous singer. I’ve never wanted that,” I say, and the tension still hiding in my muscles seems to drain away.

“So, what are you saying?” she asks, and I can’t ignore the thread of hope in her voice.

“I’m saying I don’t want to do it.”

As those words hang in the air between us, I know they’re the truth, and I suddenly feel a thousand pounds lighter. I don’t want to change my life. I like it just the way it is. Except maybe…

I meet her eyes, and they’re filled with unshed tears as I ask, “Do you think you could help me reactivateand spiff up my BingBang page so I can share my music with the world, myself?”

“I can do that,” she says with a relieved laugh, her tears spilling over to track down her cheeks.

“You didn’t want me to take the deal, did you?” I ask, and she sniffs and looks down as she shakes her head. Reaching out, I gently lift her chin until she’s looking at me again. “Why not?”

“Because I’m selfish, and I didn’t want to lose you,” she says, her voice so quiet I have to strain my ears to hear the words.

“You’re the least selfish person I know, Pressley Glade,” I say in a soft, gentle tone. “Why did you think you’d lose me?”

She shrugs. “You’d be in L.A. all the time. There are a lot of beautiful women there, and they’d all be vying for your attention.”

“None as beautiful as you,” I say, fighting to keep the smile out of my voice since this is something she’s obviously been worried about.

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