Fearless by Abby Brooks (best books for 8th graders .txt) 📗

before I finally got control of myself and shot Alex a text.

Me: I know you won’t see this because your phone is off but OMG THANK YOU. I am so lucky to have met you, Alex. Like, so freaking lucky. And not just because you pulled some strings and got me a coffee date with HARLOW FREAKING WEST!!! But because you’re good to me and I really like you and I love the way your brain works… I’d go on, but just know that you’ve made me so amazingly happy.

I hit send without overanalyzing every word I wrote, then dashed upstairs, surprised when my phone buzzed with a reply.

Alex: So, I may have cheated and turned on my phone just in case you reached out. Enjoy yourself today, my muse. Be bold. Be brave. Be you. Know that your mind is just as magnificent as hers. Most importantly, know that my heart is with you today.

I grinned so hard all I could do was send Alex a string of emojis, then stood in front of my closet, wondering how one prepared for a meeting with an idol.

Turned out, preparing for a meeting with an idol included a lot of second guessing and the trying on of multiple outfits before finally remembering Alex’s advice.

Be bold. Be brave. Be you.

It was like he knew I was learning to be fearless and helping me in my search.

“Bold, brave, fearless. That’s me,” I whispered, pulling out my favorite oversized sweater with chunky blue, white, and gray stripes. I paired it with jeans and ankle boots, then added a long necklace and earrings that caught the light. I left my hair natural and swiped on some makeup, then stood back to appraise myself in the mirror.

“Stylish yet casual, if I do say so myself.” I smiled at my reflection, took a big breath, then headed for Brewhaha. As I entered, my eyes went straight to the woman with the white-blonde hair nursing her coffee at a table in the back. Harlow freaking West. She smiled, waved, and stood as I made my way to her.

“Evie McAllister?” Her blue eyes sparkled in the light and as I extended my hand, I realized how starstruck I was because no one’s eyes actually sparkled. (Except maybe hers.)

“That’s me! It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. West.”

“Please,” she said with a grin. “Call me Harlow.”

I shook her hand, ordered my coffee, and sat down to a surprisingly easy conversation. We talked about writing, about life, about everything she experienced as she met her husband and wrote her book. When the topic turned to me, she listened intently and asked gentle, probing questions.

“Alex said you’re a damn good writer, but you’re dealing with a ton of self-doubt right now. Take it from the queen of self-doubt, sometimes you just have to take a deep breath and power through.” Harlow shrugged. “I always surprise myself on the other side. I’m sure you will, too.”

When the meeting was over, I left feeling like I’d made a new friend and could conquer the world. The second I sat down in my car, I called Alex. He answered on the first ring.

“So? How’d it go?”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you for that.” I paused as I navigated out of the parking lot and onto Main Street. “Do you have a minute? Can I come by and thank you in person? I promise I won’t stay long.”

“I set aside the afternoon for you. So get your cute butt over here and tell me all about it.”

When I pulled into Alex’s drive, he was waiting on the porch. I ran to him and he swept me into his arms. “Do you see it yet?” He cupped my face and kissed me slow and deep. “Do you see how special you are?”

I smiled against his lips. “Don’t be silly…”

He silenced me with a kiss. “If you don’t see it yet, then I’m not doing my job well enough because you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Every day is better because you’re in it.”

I tried to protest, but Alex lifted me into his arms, then carried me into the house and up to his room, where we celebrated a great day with our cute couple thing.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Evie

Three days passed. Alex was in the zone, delivering pages and pages of new work to me every morning. I’d sit down at the table with my red pen, making as many notes as I could manage while counting down the hours until I saw him again. This morning, coffee steamed in a mug at my side and snow filtered to the ground outside the window as I read through his latest additions. Gone were the days of pristine sentences navigating a sterile plot. The story commandeered my attention, even in its rough draft form. This might be his best work yet—

My pen clattered to the table. My jaw dropped. My heart? It stopped, then sped up so fast I saw stars as I read and reread a clump of bracketed text—a note Alex left for himself he’d forgotten to delete.

Consider using Evie’s story here. Change deets, obvs. But Austin was right. The theft of her work is hugely compelling and would make a great pivot point.

The pen hit the floor before I knew it rolled off the table. I was in the living room before I knew I’d left the kitchen. Behind the wheel before I knew what I was doing, and knocking on Amelia’s door before I was aware an hour had passed.

“Evie?” She took one look at my face and swung the door open wide. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I paced the living room I used to call home. “Everything.”

She closed the door and waited for me to stop moving. “Is this an ice cream and Dirty Dancing kind of nothing-slash-everything? Or a tequila and drum circle kind of nothing-slash-everything?”

I stopped and stared at my friend. “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

I