Page 78 of Fangirl

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing down the scream that wants to rip free. When I open them, I tip my head back and stare at the sky, half expecting the universe to take pity on me. To give me a sign. To give me… something. Anything. But there’s nothing. Just the dark.

Nothing but this hollow ache where she used to be.

I should chase her. I should fight.

But what would I even say? What could possibly make this better?

Nothing. I already destroyed us.

“Mr. Hollander?”

The voice barely registers. It takes me a second to blink back down, my head turning slowly toward the woman in front of me.

She’s wearing a headset, her expression painfully neutral. Professional.

Like my whole world hasn’t just imploded at my feet.

“The premiere is starting,” she says softly.

Right.

The premiere.

Like it matters.

I nod numbly. “Sorry. I’m coming.”

My voice is steady, somehow. My face falls back into the role like it always does.

Jake Hollander. Hollywood’s leading man.

Heartbreaker. Liar. Fraud.

I pull on my jacket, stand tall, and follow her back inside.

Tonight, I’ll play the hardest role of my life—pretending I’m not already broken.

The second I step into the room—right into the roar of cheers and applause—I feel it. The weight. The suffocating pressure.

And then I see him… Will.

He’s grinning like the charming asshole he is, but his eyes… they’re scanning the crowd, searching. He knows.

Maybe I’m not pretending as well as I think I am, or maybe it’s easier for one broken soul to recognize another.

The smile on my face physically hurts, my cheeks aching from the effort. I raise a hand, waving to the screaming fans, the cameras, the world.

And all the while, my lungs feel too tight, like I can’t pull in a full breath.

I sit, swallowing hard, my gaze flickering to the emptyseat beside me. The one I’d saved for her.

Before the ache can settle too deep, Will moves quietly and without a word. He abandons his spot at the end of the line, slips past the others, and drops down into the seat next to me.

I don’t look at him. I can’t. But my voice cracks as I whisper, “She’s gone.”

Will doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to. His hand lands heavy on my shoulder.

And for once, the loudest guy in the room just… sits there, silent and solid.