Page 105 of Fangirl

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I run.

He barely has time to open his arms before I slam into him, knocking a surprised huff out of his chest as his arms close tight around me.

“God, I missed you so much, Fangirl.” He breathes into my hair.

I close my eyes and sink into him, soaking up the scent and the heat of him like I’ve been starving for it… because I have.

We stay there a little longer than necessary, but I realize now how much I needed to be in his arms.

Heburies his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. And then, he whispers softly, “I would cross kingdoms, burn worlds, and battle fate itself… just to find my way back to you, Celandine.”

I freeze for half a second, the words hitting me right in the chest, before a laugh bubbles up—half sob, half disbelief.

"God, that was so cheesy," I mumble against his chest, but I’m smiling as I wrap my arms tighter around his waist.

And the worst part? It worked.

He moves back a little, and I hope he will kiss me, but he extends his hand toward me. “Ready to go home?”

My heart leaps as I slip my hand into his, our fingers threading together like they’ve always belonged. He smiles, grabs my carry-on, and leads me toward the sleek black SUV waiting by the entrance.

The moment we’re inside, the door shuts with a quiet thud, sealing us in our own little world. He pulls off his cap and sunglasses, and my breath catches when his bright-green eyes meet mine—open, raw, and so achingly familiar.

“Do you always wear a disguise?” I ask.

He smiles, his gaze dropping to my lips. “I didn’t think you’d want our reunion splashed all over the tabloids.”

I barely have time to react before his hand slides up and cups my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek like he’s memorizing the feel of me.

“I can’t wait another second.” Then his mouth crashes into mine.

The kiss is nothing sweet—it’s molten, hungry, like months of longing finally breaking loose. His lips move against mine, roughand desperate, and when I gasp, he doesn’t hesitate. His tongue sweeps in, tasting me like he’s been dying for this—like he needs it.

A moan rips from my throat, and his answering groan vibrates against my lips as he deepens the kiss, his fingers tangling in my hair. He devours me slowly, thoroughly—tongue sliding against mine, teasing, coaxing me to chase him right back.

And god… I do.

I kiss him like it’s the last chance I’ll ever get, fingers clutching his sweatshirt, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between us.

When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard—foreheads pressed together, lips swollen, and hearts racing.

“God, I missed you, Fangirl,” he rasps. “You have no idea how long I waited to do that properly.”

I blink fast, my heart full and my lips tingling. “Worth the wait.”

He grins, leaning back as he turns the engine on. “Let’s get you home, Fangirl.”

The drive is quiet and comfortable. The LA skyline blurs past, the sun dipping low as he weaves through traffic like it’s nothing.

And then we’re there.

A wrought-iron gate swings open, revealing a house straight out of some Hollywood dream—modern lines, sprawling glass windows, perfectly manicured gardens. But it’s not the size or the view that stuns me. It’s… the warmth. The little pieces of him scattered everywhere. A skateboard leaning against the wall. A stack of scripts on the console table. A framed photo of him and Will grinning like idiots.

“I—” My voice cracks. “It’s beautiful.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “It’s just a house.”

I shake my head, swallowing hard. “No… it’s not.”