Page 114 of Fangirl

An hour later, I step out feeling lighter—hair tousled, curls falling just right and brushing the tops of my shoulders. Yeah, Amy’s going to love this.

I shoot Will a quick text.

Me: Done. Where you at?

The reply comes fast.

Will: Corner café. Already ordered you the expensive shit.

When I walk in, I spot him immediately—sunglasses on, hair still damp from a shower, and sprawled in a corner booth like he owns the place.

“You look like a dick,” I tell him as I slide in across from him.

Will grins wide, no shame whatsoever. “Yeah, but a rich dick. That counts.” He nods toward the coffee waiting for me. “There. Black. No sugar… boring as hell.”

I snort but grab the cup anyway, taking a sip. “I’ve got thatMen’s Healthshoot on Thursday.”

“Ohhh… funny,” he says around a mouthful of macaron. “They didn’t ask me.”

“Funny that, yeah.”

His grin fades, brows drawing together as he studies me.There’s no joke when he speaks next—just quiet concern. “So? How’s she really doing? Amy.”

The fact that he asks without teasing hits me harder than I expected.

“She’s… good. I think.” I stare at the swirl of coffee. “Feels like she belongs here more than she knows. I’m taking her toThe Immortalpremiere.”

Will lets out a low whistle, his eyebrows shooting up. “Making it official already, huh?” He leans back, giving me that cocky, knowing smirk. “What—scared she’ll change her mind?”

I meet his eyes, dead serious. “No.” A pause. “Obviously.”

He studies me a second longer, then gives a slow nod, something almost like approval flashing in his eyes. “She won’t. But a premiere? That’s a different kind of brutal, man.”

“I know,” I admit quietly. “But she’s perfect.”

“For you? Clearly.” He snorts. “But you remember the fallout after the London premiere fiasco?”

I wince. “Yeah… I know. But I need this, Will. I need to make it official—for me. I’m proud to be with her. And the world needs to know exactly who I belong to.”

Will lets out a low groan, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye. “Ah, shit, man… That’s some real Shakespeare-level romance right there.”

“Fuck you,” I mutter, but I can’t help the grin pulling at my lips.

He waves me off, resting his arm across the back of the booth. “You know… ask Mariana to help. She loves collecting strays.”

My jaw tightens. “My Amy’s not a stray.”

“Relax. You know what I mean. She’ll want Amy looking the part, and as brutal as she is, Mariana knows how to handle this shit.”

Mariana Jones—Hollywood royalty. Officially forty-one, but let’s be real… no one actually knows. Her real age is kept tighter than Area 51 secrets, and if I had to bet? She’s pushing fifty.

She’s known for taking fresh starlets under her wing, shaping them, and molding them until they shine so bright they’re damn near untouchable. They call itMariana’s circusfor a reason. And yeah… once you’re in, you’re hooked.

I might not like her much. Hell, most days, I flat-out don’t trust her, but the truth is… she could be an asset. She’s not after me, never has been. There’s nothing she stands to gain by hurting me or Amy.

Maybe… just maybe, she could help Amy walk that red carpet next to me with the confidence and pride she deserves.

Still, the thought deflates fast, doubt curling low in my gut. “I don’t even know her. Why would she give a damn about me or Amy?”