Page 60 of Fangirl

Me: Obviously.

Eli: Why?

Me: Because I’m not into the limelight, I’m into simple, quiet, comfortable…

I chew on my bottom lip as I’m thinking about my next words.

Me: I’m into us.

The second I hit send, my heart plummets into my stomach.

What am I doing? Was that too much? Too flirty? Too?—

My phone buzzes.

Eli:You’re killing me, Fangirl.

I blink.

Me: How so?

Eli: Because I’m here, and you’re there.

Me: Actually… I was thinking… maybe I should come see you in LA. What about December?

I hit send before I can second-guess myself, my pulse thrumming in my ears.

The typing bubble pops up immediately.

Then disappears.

Then nothing.

I stare at the screen, my stomach twisting.

A minute passes. Then two.

I shouldn’t have said anything. I ruined it.

Still nothing.

Panic starts to creep in, cold and sharp. Did I just overstep? Did I read this whole thing wrong? I know he’s been busy, I know that, but maybe he doesn’t actually want to meet in person. Maybe this whole thing is different for him. Maybe I just…

No. Stop. Breathe.

I shove my phone into my coat pocket, pressing my lips together as I look out the window at the lights as we pass the suburbs. The lump in my throat is humiliating, but I can’t help it. It’s stupid—so, so stupid—but I feel like I just shattered something fragile. Like I ruined the best thing I’ve had in years.

The train hums beneath me, the familiar screech of metal against metal filling the silence as I stare blankly out the window. My reflection is distorted in the glass, blurredby streaks of condensation, mirroring the mess in my own head.

I almost cry.

No, Amy. Don’t. You’re almost home. Hold it together.

It’s ridiculous, really. I’m not in love. I can’t be, right? But I like him… more than I should. And for the first time in weeks, I feel distant from him. And it sucks.

By the time I step through my front door, my heart is wedged somewhere between my stomach and my throat. I drop my bag, kick off my shoes, give Pea some food, and collapse onto the couch, barely resisting the urge to throw my phone across the room.

Then it buzzes.