Page 83 of Fangirl
Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe it was all a game from the moment he said hello. Some twisted role he played for fun. I didn’t think he was cruel, but… I’ve been wrong before. A lot.
Mum laughs lightly, oblivious. “Yes, well, it didn’t make sense. But you know, for the wedding?—”
“I have to go, Mum. Maya’s at the door.”
I hang up before she can say anything else and make my way over, wanting to see what the insistent bell was all about. What I see is a gift basket.
A ridiculous, oversized basket brimming with gourmet snacks and pastel tissue paper, like guilt dressed in designerribbon.
There’s a note tucked between a box of macarons and an organic candle: “I’m sorry. – J”
I snort. Loudly.
Classic damage control. Glossy, thoughtful, and impersonal.
I close the door without touching it again.
The neighbors can have the basket.
Me? I don’t want anything from him.
I slam the door harder than I should, grab my cup, and sit at the kitchen table, laptop in front of me.
And then I do the worst thing I can possibly do.
I open a search engine, type his name, and hit enter.
The first headline?Daily Mail, of course.
EXCLUSIVE: Jake Hollander Dumped at His Own Premiere — Mysterious Woman Breaks Hollywood Heart
The air leaves my lungs like I’ve been punched.
I scroll down, and it hits me immediately—the photo.
Me.
Clear as day, standing in that alley looking pale, furious, and broken.
And next to me… him. Jake. Eli. Whatever the hell his name is, reaching for me.
My stomach twists.
Then come the comments.
"Must be a PR stunt. No way Hollander pulls a girl built like that unless it’s for sympathy points."
"She’s a nobody. Watch, she’ll have a book deal or a reality show by next week."
"Poor guy. You can see he’s heartbroken. Hope thiswasn’t some fat girl’s attempt at fifteen minutes of fame."
"Honestly? He dodged a bullet. What was he thinking?"
I flinch like I’ve been slapped. The screen swims, the words blurring through my tears.
I know better. I know I should stop.
But I scroll anyway. Masochistic. Desperate. Hoping maybe, somehow, someone saw me. Really saw me.
