Page 88 of Fangirl
“Then flood the feeds with something else. Leak a fake hookup. Start a new scandal. I don’t care. Just take the target off her back.”
Silence. Then, quietly, “Understood.”
“She didn’t ask for this,” I whisper. “She trusted me.”
“And she blocked you on everything,” Jennifer says gently. “Maybe… call her?”
I laugh, bitter and sharp. “You think I haven’t tried? She blocked me on phone, text, and email. Even Discord. It’s like I never existed.”
She says nothing for a beat. “Okay. I’ll do what I can.”
“Thanks.”
I hang up.
And then I break.
My knees give out, and I slide to the cold floor, back against the counter, my chest caving in. A guttural soundtears out of me before I can stop it.
This isn’t heartbreak.
It’s obliteration.
This isn’t about a premiere or a PR disaster.
This is about a girl who made me laugh harder than anyone ever has. Who made me feel real in a way no billion-dollar franchise ever could.
And I lost her.
Because I was a coward.
I slam my laptop shut and send it skidding across the floor.
A rustle sounds behind me.
“Damn,” Will says casually, emerging from the hallway wearingmysunglasses,myhoodie, andmyboxer briefs like he owns the place. “Didn’t even say goodbye to the laptop before you yeeted it. Cold, Hollander.”
“Go away.”
“No can do.” He pads barefoot into the kitchen and opens the fridge. “We wallow in pairs now. It’s a team sport.”
I drop my head back into my hands. “She hates me.”
“Yup.”
“I lost her.”
“Probably.”
“I sent her a gift basket.”
Will pauses mid-swig of orange juice straight from the pitcher. “Oh. Well. Never mind, then. Gift baskets fix everything. Did you include the artisanal popcorn or just the sad apology macarons?”
I glare.
Heraises his hands. “Hey, no judgment. That’s classic Damage Control 101. Like, ‘I know I shattered your heart and lied to your face, but please enjoy this rosemary shortbread.’ Genius.”
I groan and bang my head on the counter. “I deserve to be alone forever.”
