All Access (The Fangirl Series Book 1) by Liberty Kontranowski Read Free Book Online

of?”
    Sara is a runner and has been trying to get me to run with her for years. I have no interest, partly because I always end up with shin splints, and partly because I had asthma as a kid and am terrified of a relapse. Sara begs me almost weekly, though, especially since we have some exceptional trails in town. So yes, I guess I do know of some.
    “Yeah, we actually have some great trails.”
    “Will you take me?”
    I’ve been looking straight ahead this entire time, but his question yanks me back. I lift my left hip and turn toward him. “Huh?”
    “Will you take me home with you for the day? We’re wide open since Austin’s visiting family. We always build an extra day or two in when we stop here. No rehearsals or anything. I don’t feel like wandering the streets and I could use a good run.” He looks at me hopefully, eyebrows raised.
    I assume by the smile on his face that I say yes, but I don’t even remember the words coming out.
    “Awesome! Thank you! But let’s take a quick nap first. We’ll leave at ten. That okay?”
    Without waiting for an answer, he sets his coffee on the nightstand, scoots our pillows down until they’re flush against the bed, and nestles right in. After I do the same, he pulls the covers over us and almost instantly falls asleep on his back. I slowly ease myself onto my side until I am facing him. I sneak a few glances at first, but once I am sure he’s totally out, I give my eyes permission to stare. Like really, really stare. At my rock star crush. Who is in bed with me, just inches away, sleeping as though it’s the most natural thing for us to be doing right here, right at this moment.
    Oh my God. This is so unreal.
     
     
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    Home-Field Advantage?
    An hour and a half into our nap, Niles starts wiggling around, causing my eyes to pop open. I am shocked to find that I had actually fallen asleep, and even more shocked to discover that my forehead is wedged against the outside of his shoulder. I lift my head to see him staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.
    “Hey,” I say. “Feel better?”
    He doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs his phone and starts pecking away. After a few moments, he turns to me.
    “Sorry. Lyrics. When inspiration strikes, I gotta go with it.”
    I know exactly what he means. While writing my book, hopping out of the shower or stopping in the middle of the grocery store aisle to capture random thoughts or dialogue ideas was status quo. I am super intrigued by what exactly inspired him right now and what lyrics he came up with, but as much as I want to ask, I keep mum. I know the creative process can be very personal.
    “You ready?” He pops up and takes a sip of his coffee.
    “You know it!”
    I wish I felt about one speck as confident as I sound. As cool as this is, how weird will it be having him in my house? Jeez, is it even clean? I’m usually pretty tidy, but I was so flustered before I left yesterday, I probably have makeup all over the vanity and toothpaste splashes on the bathroom mirror. What if he wants a snack and I have nothing he likes? What if he sees the pile of laundry sitting on my dresser? You know, the one with my not-so-sexy undies situated right on top. What if he’s disgusted that I live in an apartment instead of a house? What if we have nothing to talk about and we’re trapped with each other all day and things get weird and awkward and we should have just left it all as is?
    What it, what if, what if?
    After packing up and discreetly getting a cab ride to my car, which is now one of only five left in the concert venue’s field, we stare at each other with “what’s next” looks all over our faces.
    “Can I drive?” he finally asks.
    I consider his question. Do I let someone who hasn’t driven a car in an entire year take the wheel, or do I take it myself and die of embarrassment as I granny my way down the highway? Decisions, decisions.
    “You want to drive my Mom Car?” We’ve yet to