Page 27 of The Fangirl and the Crooner

Pressley: You flatter me. Truly, you do.

Pressley: Good night, Bram.

Me: Good night, Pressley.

I set my phone on the nightstand and stare up at the ceiling for a while. That was good. The texting seemed to dispel the awkwardness between us, and it felt like we fell right back into that familiar rhythm of being good friends. Buddies.

And I refuse to admit, even to myself, the disappointment weaving through me at the thought. No. This is for the best for the both of us.

I know it is.

Chapter

Seventeen

Pressley

The last couple of days have been nice. Bram and I are back to being the friends we were before, and neither of us has mentioned that little scene in my bedroom doorway the other night. He’s either brushed it off and forgotten my erratic behavior, or he’s just pretending it never happened for both of our benefits.

It’s Friday evening, and Bram left for work about an hour ago. I’ve spent the time since getting ready for a night out. I’m meeting Keegan, Trace, Willow, and Gavin at Wolfsbane Tavern in a bit, and as soon as Bram finishes his shift tonight, he’ll be joining us.

I check my appearance in the mirror, and I have to admit, I look good. My dark jeans and lavender sweater look good without looking like I’m trying too hard. I’ve curled my hair into fat waves, and my makeup is elegant with a dark, smoky eye and a red lip.

It’s nothing I wouldn’t normally wear for a night out with friends.

It has nothing to do with the fact that I’ll be seeing Bram, and he’s only seen me with light or no makeup and regular clothes since I moved in.

Okay, fine. It does have a little something to do with that. Hell, I’m only human.

Pulling on my ankle boots and stuffing my phone and my tube of lipstick into a small purse, I head out, locking the door behind me. I pump myself up as I drive to the tavern. Just hanging out with friends. Nothing more. Nothing to feel nervous about.

When I walk into the tavern, Bram and I lock gazes instantly. I give him a little wave, and even from his position behind the bar, I don’t miss the way his eyes travel down my body and back up again before he waves back. I feel my cheeks heat and send up a silent prayer of thanks for the dim lighting in here.

I spot Keegan and Trace at a table across the bar. Keeping my head down, I stride toward them and quickly slip into one of the empty chairs.

“Hey. You okay?” Keegan asks.

“I’m good,” I say a little too brightly, meeting her eyes before turning my attention to her fiancé. “Hey, Trace.”

“Pressley,” he says with a touch of humor.

“So, how’s the visit with your parents going?” I ask, my desperation to keep the subject off me and Bram completely obvious.

“It’s been good, actually,” Keegan says slowly. “Wehaven’t really talked about it, but I get the feeling they regret the distance they put between us. Especially now that I’m getting married and grandkids are a distinct possibility.”

My tension drains away as I focus on Keegan. “How does that make you feel?”

I know I’d feel shitty if my parents only wanted to be in my life for access to my children.

Keegan shrugs. “They’re trying. That’s all that matters. And if Trace and Idohave kids, I want them to know their grandparents.”

“Not if. When,” Trace cuts in, reaching over to massage the back of Keegan’s neck.

“Will your kids call youWolf Daddy?” I cut in before Keegan can respond, and a laugh bursts out of her instead.

Trace snarls as I smile sweetly at him, but there’s no heat in it. It’s amazing, how much he’s mellowed since he and Keegan moved in together. She insists their kids will, indeed, call him that, and he kisses her to shut her up. I grin at them, so happy that they’re happy, and look over my shoulder at the bar.

I freeze when I lock gazes with Bram, who was apparently staring this way before I glanced in his direction. My smile falters, but I force it back into place as he motions that he’ll be sending drinks over shortly. I nod and turn back around, but I swear, I still feel his gaze burning into my back.

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