Page 9 of Fangirl
I return to my laptop.
Four new messages from Mod002.
Mod002: Did I win that one?
Mod002: Hey? Anlon fangirl, are you still there?
Mod002: Come on, talk to me. I'm bored.
Mod002: Come on, Fangirl! Do you want me to apologize?
I scoff, but before I can type anything, another message pops up.
Mod002: Also, what’s your name? I don’t want to call you Fangirl. I’m Elijah, but my friends call me Eli.
I smile at the screen before I can stop myself.
It’s bloody ridiculous, but somehow, the fact that he wants to keep talking pleases me.
Me: I just made myself coffee, Elijah. I’m in London.
I use his full name on purpose.
We’re not friends—at least not yet.
Elijah: Oh, you’re London-bound! That’s pretty cool. It’s 1 AM here in LA.
Me: Of course, you’re in LA. Wannabe actor? Is that why you’re moderating for fancy Hollywood stars?
Elijah: Damn, judgy much? No wonder you’re in a chat room first thing in the morning, fighting with a faceless moderator.
I wince, grateful he can’t see my face.
Ouch. Okay, fair point.
I am being a bitch, and I’m not even sure I can fully blame it on my slight hangover.
Me: I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. You do you, Elijah. And… sorry for giving you extra work. Have a great day.
I move my cursor to delete my account…
And watch as the option vanishes from my screen.
Elijah: No, don’t go yet. I was just joking with you.
I narrow my eyes.
Me: Did you just remove my delete option? I don’t think that’s ethical.
Elijah: I don’t remember reading that in the Moderator Oath I signed in blood.
Me: Ass.
Elijah: Come on, Fangirl, tell me your name, and I’ll tell you what my day job is.
I sigh.
Me: I’m Amelia, but my friends call me Amy. You can call me Amelia.
