Page 11 of The Fangirl and the Crooner

Eight

Bram

What in the hell was I thinking?

I acted on the urge to rescue Pressley in her moment of need, but after having the whole night to think about it, I’m not so sure it’s a good idea. In fact, I’m almost certain it’s a terrible one. Sure, I decided to try to forgive her, and we talked a little last night, but things are far from perfect.

Moving Pressley in here with me is going to be a disaster.

But my second thoughts mean nothing. I made the offer, which is tantamount to a promise, and I intend to keep it. We’ll just have to find a way to make it work. Decision made, I grab the spare housekey from the hook in the kitchen and slip it into my pocket before grabbing my car keys from the hook next to it. After picking up mywallet and phone from the counter where I left them earlier, I head out the door.

When I get to Keegan and Trace’s house, I turn off my car and sit in the driveway for a minute while I stare at the closed front door. I can do this. Just walk up, knock, hand Pressley the key, and leave. Easy.

I don’t know why I’m so nervous, my gut twisting like I’m a teenager picking up his girl for their first date. This is definitely not romantic, and Pressley isnotmy girl. It’s a simple arrangement. Two acquaintances who used to be friends sharing a space. Nothing more.

Forcing myself from the car, I slam the door behind me and jog up the front steps. Before I change my mind, I raise a fist and knock it against the wood, then take a small step back to wait. I notice for the first time that Trace’s truck isn’t in the driveway, which means he’s already left for work. I wonder if Keegan and Pressley rode into town with him.

But I told Pressley I was bringing her the key this morning, right? She wouldn’t just leave when she’s expecting me, would she?

Before I can spin out completely, I hear soft footfalls inside the house. Steeling my spine, I hold my breath as the door swings open, and there she is. Her soft and wavy blonde hair is tied up in a messy bun on top of her head, her oversized sweatshirt hangs off one shoulder, and her leggings are so tight, I can see the delicious curves of her thighs.

“Hi.”

The single word snaps me out of the trance I’d falleninto, and my gaze zips back up to meet Pressley’s as I blurt, “Hi.”

“Come on in,” she says, stepping back and motioning for me to enter.

Thanking her with a nod, I step inside and look around. “Is Keegan here?”

“No,” she says, closing the door behind me. “She made some excuse about seeing Willow at Moonstone Mystic and rode into town with Trace this morning.”

“An excuse?” I ask, turning to face her fully.

She shrugs. “She wanted to give us some privacy for this…conversation.”

Deciding not to respond to that, I exhale through my nose and shove a hand into my pocket. Closing my fingers around the ring with the single key on it, I tug it free and hold it out in her direction. I expect Pressley to reach out and take it, but she only stares as the metal glints under the light fixture above us.

Finally, she meets my eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

My first instinct is to assure her I know what I’m doing, but honestly, I have no fucking clue how this is going to play out. It’s better to be honest, so I shake my head.

“No. Not really. I know things are strained between us, and this might not work out, but I’m willing to try. Besides, we’re still friends, right?”

“I hope so,” she says, her voice so soft I almost don’t hear the words.

“Then, it’s settled,” I say, pushing the hand holding the key toward her.

I almost sigh in relief when she takes it, but I manageto hold back. Seeing that key in her hand symbolizes a sort of finality. No more going back and forth, wondering if this is a terrible idea or not. It’s settled, and we’re both going to find out for sure.

Closing her fingers around the key ring, she meets my gaze, asking, “What if we put a time limit on it? Will that make things easier?”

“What do you mean?”

“Keegan’s parents only plan to stay for a couple of weeks. We can agree right now, if this,” she pauses for a moment to wave a hand between us, “doesn’t work out, or either of us is uncomfortable with the living situation, I can move back in here. No questions asked. No hurt feelings. Keegan already said it would be okay.”

I tilt my head, studying her expression as I think it over. She seems intent on making the deal, like it will give her an out if living as my roommate is unbearable. The thought makes my gut twist, then it relaxes. It’s not just an out for her. It’s an out for me, too.

“Sounds like a plan,” I say finally, pushing a hand out for her to shake on it.

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