Page 8 of The Fangirl and the Crooner

I freeze. She looks like a God damn angel with that halo of wavy blonde hair surrounding her, and my throat tightens at just the sight of her.

Get it together, man. You want to be friends. That’s it. Nothing more.

“Bram!” Willow shouts, snapping me out of that moment of paralysis. “Get your ass over here and tell Trace he’s mixing my drink wrong.”

I chuckle as Trace shoots his baby sister a narrow-eyed frown. He sets the bottle of vodka he’s gripping down on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

“It’s a vodka-lemonade, Willow. You can’t mix it wrong. It’s two ingredients.”

“And you’re supposed to stir the shot into the lemonade, not the other way around,” she says, her voice firm and knowing.

They both look up at me, each of them fully expecting me to back them up. Knowing Trace for most of our lives and Willow forallof hers, I lift my palms in the universal sign for “I’m staying out of it.” I’m not stupid. Neither one of them will back down when theystart to bicker, especially over something as silly as how to mix a simple drink.

“Coward,” Willow spits, but there’s humor and love in her gaze so I know she doesn’t mean it.

“Oh, hey, Bram.”

I turn to see Gavin walking in, and I take his extended hand before pulling him in for a one-handed hug as I say, “Good to see you, man.”

“You, too,” he replies, his eyes darting to his left and back so quickly, I would’ve missed it if I hadn’t been watching.

Of course, he was looking at Pressley. I’m sure he and everyone else here were convinced that I’d be skipping this dinner tonight. As he moves on, pulling Willow away from Trace to effectively end their squabble, I inhale deeply and turn to face Pressley. She’s not looking at me, but the tension in her shoulders and her obviously averted gaze tell me she’s very aware of our proximity.

“Hey, Pressley,” I say, and her entire body shivers before she takes a deep breath and turns to face me.

“Hey, Bram,” she says, her voice so quiet, I almost don’t hear it.

I nod as I move past her to the fridge, eager for that beer I was promised. Pulling out the lighter of the two Mexican beers lined up on the top shelf, I crack open the can and take a long drink. Just as I’m gearing up to turn back to Pressley and say something,anything, Keegan calls out that it’s time to eat and everyone should go find a seat at the table.

I follow behind the crowd and watch as everyone finds their seats, leaving the head of the table and thechair next to it empty for Keegan and Trace. Willow and Gavin take the two seats on the other side of the table while Pressley takes the chair opposite Willow, leaving the only available spot at the other end of the table––adjacent to the chair Pressley is currently occupying.

Moving forward, I sit down as she studiously avoids eye contact.Fuck, I hate this. While I was angry and disappointed by her choices, this awkwardness between us is worse. I need to let her know I’m ready to move past it.

“Pressley,” I whisper, and her head whips toward me, a look of sheer surprise on her face.

She must see the desperation in my expression, because her own softens with an odd mix of regret and hope. “Yes?”

“I don’t know how to fix things between us, but I’m willing to try if you are,” I say, then snap my mouth shut as Trace and Keegan walk into the room with two baking dishes filled with enchiladas, a bowl of rice, and a pot of refried beans.

As everyone starts to fill their plates, Pressley picks up the bowl of rice and passes it to me. When I move to take it, she holds onto it as she stares at me with wide eyes.

“I took the video down, you know. But it was too late. Too many people had already shared and reposted it. I’m so sorry, Bram. I really thought I was doing you a favor.”

“I know, Press,” I say, and she releases her grip on the bowl.

“I promise I won’t do anything like that ever again,”she whispers as she scoops some beans onto her plate, and I offer her a small smile.

It might take some time to get back to where we were, but in this moment, I know it’ll be worth it. I’ve fucking missed her.

“Excuse me, everyone. I have an announcement to make,” Keegan says, standing from her chair at the opposite end of the table from me.

We fall silent, and as all eyes turn toward her, she looks down at Trace, who reaches over to take her hand. What is this all about? Wait…

Is she…pregnant?

“All of you stop looking at me like that,” she says with a laugh. “I’mnotpregnant.”

A round of nervous chuckles from Willow and Gavin tell me I wasn’t the only one thinking it. Pressley remains still with a serene, yet somehow sad smile on her face, and I get the feeling she already knows exactly what Keegan is going to say.

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