Page 113 of Fangirl

Relief hits hard and fast, loosening something in my chest. For the first time all morning, I smile—small but real.

Good.That gives me time. Time to ease Amy into this madness before the world comes knocking.

By the time I make it back to my car, the stupid file is tucked under my arm like it’s worth its weight in gold. I drop into the driver’s seat, sigh, and pull out my phone.

Yeah, I’m whipped. Fully aware. Can’t even pretend to care.

Me: Morning, Sunshine. I’ll be home late afternoon,but I cleared my whole schedule after that. Two days—just you and me.

I barely set the phone down when it buzzes, and my lips twitch into a grin as I hit the hands-free button. “Morning, my love. Did you sleep well?”

A beat of silence, then, “That’s new… but I don’t mind it. Call me that from now on.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I merge into traffic. “I thought you were Amy.”

Will snorts. “Ah, now I’m really hurt, sweetheart.”

I grin and settle back. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking of swinging by to see Amy. Say hello. But then I figured… what if you two were in full-on fuckfest mode? I didn’t wanna be the guy cockblocking the slow burn of the century.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a weird pang in my chest hearing him talk about my girl like that. Not jealousy exactly, more like… possessiveness. And yeah, it’s Will. But the thought of him knocking on that door… and her smiling for him? It twists something deep inside me because she’s mine. She chose me. And fuck if I’m not terrified of anything that might make her forget it—even for a second.

Still, if things go the way I picture them in my head, Amy and Will are going to be in each other’s lives permanently. My wife and my best friend.

Yeah. I’m ridiculous. Fully aware. Don’t care.

“No cockblocking. I’m not home,” I mutter. “Had a meeting. Now I’m headed to the hairdresser. Gotta make sure we’re on track for the Anlon hair.”

Will groans dramatically. “Why the hell does the hero needlong, flowy hair anyway?”

“Beats me. Said it’s ‘part of the lore’ or some shit, but I think women just find that sexy.” I smirk. “And yeah, going to Leona’s.”

“Leona, huh?” Will perks up. “I’m at the gym down the street. Wanna grab coffee after? I’ll even pretend to care about your hair crisis.”

I snort. “Yeah, alright. Meet me in an hour.”

“Done. Don’t get kidnapped by hairdressers in the meantime.”

“Later, Winters.”

When I get to the salon, Leona’s already waiting. She waves me inside one of her private rooms with walls lined with sketches of Anlon—shoulder-length hair, flowing just enough to catch the light. Definitely not my usual look.

Leona hums, running her fingers through my hair—longer now, brushing the base of my neck. The curls give it this boyish, unkempt vibe that Amy seems to love. I can still feel her hands there, tugging lightly, playing with the ends like she was memorizing me.

“You know…” Leona starts, pausing with a thoughtful look. “If it’s a problem, I can talk to production. We could go with a wig.”

I grimace. “God, no. Wigs itch. And they look like hell after a fight scene.” I shake my head, picturing Amy’s soft laugh as her fingers comb through my curls. Besides, my girl’s a fan and played with it all night, I think, but don’t say it.

Leona grins, probably seeing the light in my eyes. “Well then, no wigs. We’ll get you there naturally.”

“Good.” I exhale, settling in. “I want the Anlon look.”

Leona hums her approval and gets to work—trimming, shaping, and layering just enough to start the transition. “We’ll need a few more sessions, but you’ll get there. By the time cameras roll, you’ll be Anlon’s twin.”

I grin. “Let’s just hope the fans see it that way.”

She snorts. “With that face? You’ll break the internet, Hollander.”