Page 7 of Fangirl

@TeamHollander: We’ll find you.

My stomach churns. A cold sweat breaks out along my spine.

Jesus. These women are batty.

My hands shake as I scroll through the onslaught of vitriol. The sheer intensity of their anger is overwhelming.

Then there’s the truly unhinged ones:

@MrsHollander69: Jake is a literal GOD. Anlon WISHES he had his abs. You should be ASHAMED.

@Jake’sThirstTrap: LMAO you probably write fan fiction about Anlon crying in bed. What a loser. Blocked and reported.

@Hollander’sGoldenHair: Who even IS Anlon? You book nerds need to touch grass.

I clutch my coffee mug like it’s a lifeline.

I’ve stirred a hornet’s nest.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

I need to delete this account immediately and pretend Iwas never here.

I pull up the forum page, heart hammering, and stare at the login screen.

What the hell did I pick as a password? I type my usual ones.

Rejected

My phone keeps beeping in the background, announcing more unwanted emails.

I click on the password hint, desperate.

Hint: jakesuxballz.

I freeze before letting out a snort. Drunk Amy had game, for sure.

I enter it, and, miracle of all miracles, I’m in.

A small, triumphant yelp escapes me.

Pea, curled up in his perch, shoots me an unimpressed glare.

“Sorry, my boy,” I mutter, rubbing my temples as I scan my account details, my now sober—but slightly hazy and sore—brain trying to process my next move.

Username: Anlondeservesbetter.

I grimace. Okay. I definitely stirred shit with this one.

But honestly? Anlondoesdeserve better.

A chat box pops up on the side of the screen.

Mod002: I’ve closed the thread now, but you know it’s never smart to question someone’s acting abilities on their own fansite.

I purse my lips, cheeks heating up.

Mod002 is looking for a fight. I crack my knuckles, ready to respond.