Page 32 of Fangirl
I drop my hands, tracing the rim of my glass. "We share deep conversations, Maya. We connect on an emotional level. It’s not just about physical attraction—though, yeah, that’s there. But there’s something more… profound between us."
I hesitate for a second before continuing.
"I tell him things I don’t tell other people—well, except you." I let out a small breath, gathering my thoughts. "I feel like… because he is,was, a stranger, I could be myself. He got the unfiltered, unsaturated version of Amy. And, contrary to all odds, he still wants more."
I pause, letting my own words sink in, the weight of them settling in my chest.
"And besides, it’s way too early for that."
Maya pouts. "Prude."
"Floozy," I shoot back, smirking.
She gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. "Floozy?" she repeats with mock offense.
Then she shrugs, entirely unbothered. "Well, I proudly wear the title because, you know, it may not be such a bad thing to let loose a little. Life’s too short to always play it safe."
She lifts her left hand, wiggling her ring finger at me, the diamond catching the light. "It got me this."
I glance across the street, watching the steady bustle of people filtering in and out of the bakery. A wistful smile tugs at my lips.
"You know, if this were a classic rom-com moment, I’d glance up and find Eli standing right there, smiling at me like fate orchestrated the whole thing."
The whimsy of the thought is immediate. The kind of ridiculous serendipity that only exists in movies and books, and yet…
I picture it. Eli, standing there in a hoodie and sneakers, spotting me across the street with that crooked smile.
He crosses over, dodging traffic like he’s in a damn rom-com trailer, and stops at my table.
"Told you we’d meet someday," he says, stupidly perfect.
Maya’s snort yanks me back to reality, punctuating my daydream with a healthy dose of cynicism.
"Sweetheart, that sounds more like a plotline from a stalker show on Netflix," she quips, though her teasing is gentle.
Then her expression shifts. "You really like him, don’t you?"
I grimace, my cheeks burning with self-consciousness.
"It does sound foolish, doesn’t it?" I admit with self-deprecation. I exhale, shaking my head. "I’ve only known him for a few weeks. Most of our interactions have been through phone calls or chats. I’ve only seen him on-screen twice, and only for a brief time. Yet here I am, smitten likea lovesick teenager."
I give a small, disbelieving laugh, rubbing at my temple as if I can physically wipe away my own ridiculousness.
"I should probably blame my fan fiction writing for this," I confess, offering a wry smile. "It’s like I’ve been living in a world of romanticized imagination for so long that now reality feels… well, a bit inadequate."
Maya reaches out, placing a steady hand over mine.
"Hey now, don’t be so hard on yourself," she reassures me softly. "Feelings don’t always follow a logical timeline. Sometimes, connections happen in ways we don’t expect, and it’s okay to be swept off your feet, even if it feels a little unconventional."
I narrow my eyes, suspicion creeping in. That didn’t sound like her… at all.
She laughs, catching my expression. “I mean that!” she insists, lifting her free hand as if swearing an oath. “Matt started as a dating app dinner date because I was too broke to go out, and I didn’t feel like cooking. And look at us now, we’re married.”
She waves a hand around like her entire love story is nothing more than a happy accident.
“I’ve known you since kindergarten, Amy. And I’ve never seen you this happy or this fulfilled in a relationship.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off.
