Page 2 of The Fangirl and the Crooner

I just know it.

Chapter

Two

Bram

Popping the tops off two bottles of beer, I slide them across the bar to the guy who ordered them. He thanks me, handing me a twenty and telling me to keep the change. I nod in thanks and turn to slip the bill into the register.

Wolfsbane Tavern is a second home to me, and tonight, it’s crowded as hell. Even with another bartender on shift with me, we’re having trouble keeping up with the constant flow of orders. But I’m not stressed over it.

I love this place. I love this job. There’s nothing else I’d rather do and nowhere else I’d rather be.

Talking to people, learning their stories and offering advice while they sip cocktails and brews…it’s always been my calling. My regulars, people who are actually citizens of Evening Shade, are special to me, and I always try to make them feel that way. And ever since this town became a tourist destination, I’ve had a steady flow of new faces––new stories––to keep the job from feeling stagnant.

A pretty girl in a tiny little white tank top walks up to the bar, and I offer her my most charming smile. She’s obviously a CursedCub, one of the many super fans of the Cursed movies who flock to Evening Shade on the weekends to tour the town and the recognizable movie locations in the area. Her tank top bears the image of Gavin Reese, who starred in the movies when he was just a teenager and now lives here with his one true love, my best friend’s little sister, Willow.

“What can I get you?” I ask when she stops in front of me, her gaze devouring every inch of my face as her mouth falls open.

“Oh, my God! You’re him!” she shouts, her face lighting up with recognition.

I try to hold onto my smile while I grind my molars together. I don’t acknowledge or confirm her loud statement, but the way she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet tells me she’s convinced I’m the person she thinks I am.

And unfortunately, it’s true.

“What are you drinking tonight?” I ask, keeping my voice even as I place a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of her.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, her face falling a bit. “I’ll have a Sex on the Beach, please.”

Her gaze turns sultry as she slowly enunciates the name of the drink, and it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes as I nod and get to work mixing it for her. Nobody ordersthat here. Not since the nineties, anyway, before I even graduated from elementary school.

Except, of course, a random woman here and there who thinks ordering the suggestive drink will somehow makemesuggest we get out of here and engage in a little sex on the beach, ourselves.

Handing the drink over, I accept her credit card and turn to ring up her order. When I swing back around to return the card, she deftly runs her fingertips over mine while her lips turn up seductively.

“You’re so talented. I’ve watched it several hundred times, and every single time, I’m…affected.”

She bites the corner of her lip while blatantly eye-fucking me. I force a disinterested smile, thank her, and turn toward a guy who’s been waiting patiently to order. The woman remains frozen in place for several beats, then I see her shoulders lift and drop from the corner of my eye, indicating a deep sigh. Then she slowly turns and wanders away, sneaking peeks over her shoulder every few steps as if she expects me to be checking out her ass, or something.

Not going to happen.

I may flirt back with the female customers when they instigate it––or when I’m truly attracted to them––but I will not be swept up in this barrage of fangirling I never asked for anddon’twant.

Fucking Pressley Glade.

We were friends. It was a friendship I was determined to foster, moving slowly while praying it would grow into more. I was into her the first time I met her, but she had some baggage she needed to deal with,so I decided to give her the time and space she needed to straighten out her life before making my move. It turned out to be the best decision, because over several months, we grew extremely close, building bonds that would stand the test of time when and if we ever decided to turn things up a notch and become romantically involved. Plus, she lives in Seattle, a several hours’ drive from here that would make dating difficult, if not impossible.

Orlived, I guess. She’s moving to Evening Shade, which means I’ll have a daily reminder of how she broke my trust. How she brokeus.

I didn’t want things to go this way. I didn’t want any of it, but Pressley decided to do what she did, anyway. Like she knew best, and I would see the benefits of her choice after the fact.

Rationally, on some level, I know she was only trying to help me. She was sure I’d change my tune once the deed was done, but, unfortunately for both of us, she was wrong.

I like my life just the way it is.Was.

I just hope the fervor will die down eventually, my fifteen minutes of fame will fade away, and things will go back to normal.

And as to how I’ll deal with Pressley living here? I honestly have no fucking clue.

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