Page 24 of The Fangirl and the Crooner

Why am I acting so standoffish? I’m throwing out signs I definitely don’t mean with that maneuver, so I slowly scoot away from the edge, wiggling my body like I’m just trying to get comfortable in an attempt to make the move not so obvious.

Bram sets his wineglass on the coffee table, and the shock nearly sends me into cardiac arrest when he picks his guitar up from its stand and sits a mere foot away from me on the sofa. My heart starts to pound as he plucks the strings and twists the knobs to tune it. I fight to keep my breaths slow and shallow, and I set my glass down when the liquid inside starts to slosh a bit from the force of my shaking hand.

Then, Bram looks directly into my eyes and starts to play.

I hold his stare, unable to look away, and when he starts to sing, my stomach hollows out. Heat builds in my core as my mind registers the words––words of love lost and desires unquenched. I’ve never heard the song before, and my head feels dizzy as I imagine Bram writing those words just for me.

But of course, he didn’t. I’m being ridiculous. Looking away, I grab my wine from the table and chug down the rest of it. When I glance at Bram again, he’s smiling as he sings, and the heat starts building all over again.

Whether he wrote it for me, or not, he’s definitely singing it for me now. And after fearing he’d never sing or play for me, again, the moment feels kind of epic.

And this is when I start to go batshit crazy.

I have a sudden urge to reach over and pull the guitar right out of his hands. Set it aside, and climb onto his lap, straddling him while my hands dive into his gorgeous, strawberry-blonde hair. Our lips would touch lightly, at first, then Bram would deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into my mouth as his fingers grip my hips. Hewould push me down until the ridge of his cock rubs against my aching center, the friction driving me wild until I buck against him. Then––

“Oh, God,” I blurt, leaping to my feet in a panic.

Can he tell what I was thinking? Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

The song cuts off abruptly, and Bram stares at me with a confused expression as he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I say, shifting my weight from foot to foot as my fight or flight instinct goes a little haywire. “I…uh…need to go. Sorry.”

And with that, flight wins, and I flee the room. I don’t stop until I’m in my bedroom, the door closed behind me. I lean back against it, trying to slow my heart and my heavy, erratic breaths, and just as I start to calm, a light tap sounds from the other side of the door.

Startled, I leap away with a yelp, then groan silently when I realize he probably heard that. Can I make any more of a fool of myself? What iswrongwith me?

The food and wine churns in my gut as I smooth my hair and clothes, then, taking a deep breath, reach out and open the door. Bram meets my eyes with a concerned expression.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I say, the word flying from my lips almost violently. Then calmer, I add, “Of course not.”

“Then what happened out there?” he asks.

“You don’t want to know,” I mumble under my breath.

“Yes, I do,” he says, obviously hearing the words despite my mumbling.

I rack my brain for an excuse, but the only thing that comes to mind is Keegan’s voice from earlier.

“You’ve only ever treated Bram like he’s your buddy. Sure, you flirt, but it’s innocent, friendly flirting. You should get serious about it.”

Clenching my jaw, I swallow thickly and say, “That song…”

“The song?” he says, moving a step closer.

My chest starts to heave as I fight to fill my lungs. “Your voice…”

Apparently, I can’t complete a full sentence, but Bram doesn’t seem to mind.

Inching a bit closer he repeats, “My voice.”

A whole-body shiver courses through me, and my words are slow and soft as I admit, “It…did things to me.”

“It did things to you,” he says in the same tone as he slowly lifts a hand.

I freeze, waiting with bated breath for his touch on my face. Then something happens inside Bram’s brain, and he blinks, curls his fingers into a tight fist, then drops his arm back to his side. Disappointment floods my system, and I almost cry out in protest as he takes a quick step back out into the hall.

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