I run my hands over a dishtowel to dry them. “Yeah.” What’s really “wow” is Cane is Leo Gaines’s best friend. What’s that saying? When one door shuts, another one opens?
“That’s amazing, Levi.” God, I like when she says my name. “I hope it works out. How long is the shoot?”
“I’m not sure. A couple of months at least. I do know it doesn’t start until November.”
“Well, get out there and talk to the man.” She grips my upper arms and turns me toward the yard, then swats my butt to move me along.
When we get to the door, I push it shut, turn her around, and trap her against the white painted wood. All of her tanned, luscious skin stands out. Her pink, pillowy lips, too. I take her hands in both of mine, raise her arms above her head, and crush my mouth to hers. She kisses me back, her fingers lacing tighter with mine as I press our hands against the door. We nibble, suck, taste. It takes Herculean effort to back away.
“Go out with me next Sunday,” I say. We’ll be done shooting for MASF then, and fuck, I guess I want to take her out. Dinner. Some flirting. Then my mouth on every inch of her.
“Like a date?” She’s flushed. Breathless. “Because I don’t—”
“You can call it whatever you want.”
“I don’t want you to think—”
“Look at it as prep for the wedding.”
“The wedding! I forgot that was coming up.” She thinks for a minute, like she’s calculating how far away the big day is. “I can’t next Sunday. My parents are having a pre-wedding thing at their house.”
I do a quick mental rundown of my schedule. She seems semi-agreeable, so I don’t want to let her off the hook. “Monday then?”
“That’s going to be a really busy week, but the rehearsal dinner is on Thursday night.” She bites her lip. “Do you want to go with me?”
Shit. I think I’m working that night, but I’ll try to get a replacement. “It’s a date.”
“Not a real date.”
I brush my lips over hers one last time. “It is if you want another orgasm.”
Chapter Twelve
Harper
Cruising the grocery store aisles when hungry is a terrible idea. I came in to buy cumin, which is in the spice aisle, but my growling stomach led me down the cookie aisle, the frozen food aisle, and now the cereal aisle. A box of Cap’n Crunch is balanced precariously on top of my other extra food items in my hand-held basket.
One tiny forgotten essential to the chili mac and cheese sitting in a pot on my stove and I’m Girl Gone Junk Food Wild. It’s not enough to combine two of my favorite comfort foods into one delicious meal. I need the solace of sugar, too.
That I was rude when talking to my brother on the phone earlier and he asked if it was “that time of the month” makes me grab a box of cinnamon Pop Tarts. Can’t a girl just be hormonal over a boy? Yeah, I’m not just hungry. I’m that kind of hungry.
I delicately slip the box into my basket so nothing falls out. I’ve never needed food to make me feel better before, and I’m pretty irritated about it. Levi has me completely off my game. I can’t stop thinking about him. Tomorrow’s shoot can’t get here soon enough. I miss him, and I’m mad about that, too.
The feel of his tanned, hard body against my back while he fingered me is still so fresh, my legs grow weak just thinking about it. Stop thinking. I shake my head and take a step forward, but immediately still. A chill steals over me even though I’m suddenly warm all over.
“Harper?” April says. “I thought that was you.”
“Hi,” I manage in return. Holy shit. April is two feet away. Close enough to reach out and touch. She looks prettier than I remember. She looks happy, for which I’m grateful. She also makes my heart hurt. I think I’m going to be sick.
“Hi.” She wraps me in a hug, knocking the Cap’n Crunch cereal out of my basket. I quickly bend to pick it up. Bad move. My head gets light. My stomach roils.
I haven’t seen Joe’s sister since she graduated high school, a year before I did. She went back to Texas for college. Her parents followed shortly thereafter, wanting to be close to their only living child, among other reasons, I’m sure.
She and I were good friends until Joe died. Until I pushed her—and everyone else—away.
My throat feels like I drank glue, my vocal chords sticking together. She smiles at me with warm blue eyes that remind me so much of her brother’s, I’m about to puke. Even after all this time, I can’t look at her without sadness. Shame. Apology. I swallow to force down the terrible taste in my mouth.
Joe’s family didn’t once blame me. At least, not out loud. After a full investigation and autopsy, his death was ruled an accidental drowning. I wish it had been me to fall into the pool. I wish that so badly.
“How are you?” she asks amiably.
I clear my throat. “I’m good.” I notice the basket in her hand is filled with vegetables and bread. “Are you living here again?”
“Yes. I’m a physical therapist at the UCLA Med Center in Santa Monica. What about you? Are you done with school?”
“Yes. I’m…” I can’t bring up swimming or anything to do with it. I just can’t. I don’t want to remind her, not that seeing me doesn’t bring back awful memories anyway, but at least we can pretend to have a normal conversation for a minute. “I’m doing some charity work until I figure things out.”
She nods. “How’s your family?”
Shit. Fuck. My heart hammers. It’s my fault her family isn’t whole when mine is, yet she has the decency to ask that question. “Good, thanks. How are your mom and dad?” I adored Joe’s mom with her southern accent and southern charm. She welcomed me with open arms and an open mind, always interested in my swimming and my thoughts on life. She liked to talk, something my mom didn’t, and I often found myself sitting at her kitchen table for hours after school while I waited for Joe to get home from a practice.
“They’re really well.” She puts her hand on my arm as if she senses my discomfort. Of course she does. I’m sure the entire freaking store does. “Happy and keeping busy.”
“That’s good. Will you tell them I said hello?” And I’m sorry. Still so, so sorry. My mom’s pained voice echoes in the back of my mind. “I can’t imagine how devastating it is to lose a child,” she said when she didn’t know I was listening.
“I will. And I’d love to get together with you for coffee or lunch or something.”
“Umm…”
“Here,” she says, pulling a business card out of her purse. “Call me when you’re up for it, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.” I tuck the card in the front pocket of my shorts.
“It was nice seeing you.”
“You, too,” I say as she walks past. Her parting words don’t sound rote, but I have a hard time believing them. Strangely, I am happy I saw her—healthy, smiling, carefree. It sets a piece of my mind at ease.
The other pieces are still in distress.
I get my feet to move toward the checkout lines. Maybe Teague is right. Maybe the bitterness and pity from people who know about Joe and me is all in my head. But she doesn’t know how many times I heard, “It’s such a tragedy,” and, “That poor girl.”
If I could quiet the noise in my head, I would. But the shit there is powerful. Except when you’re with Levi. He’s pain relief and happiness, flutters instead of stings. But it’s hard for me to accept those things when I’m not sure I can handle them beyond short bursts.
When I get home, Teague is stirring the chili mac and cheese. “Hey,” she says, her back to me, “did you have to go to more than one place for the cumin?”
I dump my three bags of groceries on the counter.
Teague twists around. Her knowing eyes go soft as she nudges me out of the way with her hip. “Go sit. I’ve got this.”
“Thanks.” I sink into the couch. It’s not often I let my best friend take care of me, but I’m tired. Really tired of keeping everything bottled up inside.
>
“Here.” Teague hands me an oatmeal cookie a minute later. It’s the soft, chewy kind. The hard ones don’t taste as good.
I eat the entire treat. Teague eats hers. Then I say, “I saw Joe’s sister at the store. She’s living here again. I almost puked on her shoes.”
Teague tucks her hair behind her ear and shifts to face me with her legs crossed in front of her like she’s about to meditate. She got home early from work today and is wearing the cutest J. Crew top and black shorts. “Almost is better than doing it.”
“She was really nice and wants to get together sometime.” I pull out her card from my pocket. I need to get it off my person.
Teague places it on the coffee table for me. “That’s not a bad idea.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. A tear leaks out of the corner. Goddammit. Teague instantly folds my hand inside hers. She knows better than to make too big a deal of this.
“April took the first step, so maybe you can take the next one,” Teague says quietly. “You’re not to blame, Harp. It was an accident.”
We’ve rehashed this so many times that I don’t want to do it again. I love Teague, but I realize she isn’t the person to help unburden me more than she already has. She’s the perfect Band-Aid, but she can’t give me a new perspective.
Maybe April can.
Or Levi.
He’s opened up to me, and I know he wants me to reciprocate. My fear is that if I tell him about Joe, he won’t look at me the same way—like I’m someone he approves of, a girl he likes to be around because she’s worthy of his attention.
I brush away the moisture on my cheek. “When I get the ambassador job, I’ll call her.” That will give me time to work up the courage to tell her how I turned the worst day of my life into something good.
“How soon do you think you’ll hear about that?”
“I don’t know. I’m meeting with Brad next week, so hopefully he’ll have some news for me.” I need to find out something. My dad has been pestering me about his movie.
“Speaking of next week, I’ll be gone Tuesday to Sunday instead of Wednesday to Monday.”
“Abandoning me in my time of wedding need.”
“Harp.”
“I’m kidding. I’m just jealous that you get to be in Costa Rica with your boyfriend while I’m trapped here in bridesmaid hell.”
She narrows her eyes. “Did you just admit you’re jealous I have a boyfriend?”
“What? No. I’m envious of your distance from the wedding.” It’s the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but the truth.
Teague continues to stare at me. I break eye contact first. “You are,” she says with surprise and joy.
“I am what?”
She traces tiny circles in the air with her finger pointed at my chin. I bat the gesture away. Undeterred, a slow, certain smile takes hold of her face. “It’s Levi. Don’t even try and lie. I did catch you guys in the middle of something last weekend.”
“Would you lower your voice?” I have no idea why I ask that. It’s not like Levi is hiding in the next room.
Her smile grows impossibly wider. “Oh my gosh! Harper! This is huge.”
Yes, he is. The outline of his cock through the thin material of his board shorts is thoroughly imprinted on my mind. Not to mention, every time I even think about how he felt pressed against my ass, my sex clenches. I want him inside me so badly it’s gotten to the point where my vibrator isn’t enough to get me off. I need the real thing. And not just any thing. Levi’s thing.
“Stop. It’s not—”
“You’re blushing. You’re ducking blushing!” My roommate and “ducking.” She can’t bring herself to say “fuck” no matter how often I tell her she’s a grown-up and it’s okay. I cuss like a sailor. She talks like an elementary school teacher.
Maybe that’s why I can never keep anything from her for very long. “Fine. He made me come with his fingers.”
“Did you kiss him again?”
She knows all about the night I spent with Levi and the night we went skinny-dipping and she knows, to me, kissing is super personal. I don’t generally let a guy lick and suck inside my mouth like Levi did, and vice-versa. “Yes.”
“And you want more.” There’s no question mark in her voice.
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. Just go with it. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve only ever had lukewarm feelings toward guys who are interested in you. You need to explore these new red-hot waters with Levi. Who knows where they’ll lead.”
“Hopefully to fucking.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t make it just about that.”
“That’s all I want.”
“Wrong. You’re just afraid to admit that you really like him and have more than a physical connection going on.”
I run my finger over the frayed edge of my shorts. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. He matters to you. I know he does. And don’t try to tell me that’s bullcrap. I see the way you look at him.”
“He’s gorgeous. Of course I’m going to look at him.”
Teague’s eyes crinkle in frustration. “You know what I mean. He’s more than good-looking, and after everything he went through with…” She trails off. Her eyes slide away from me.
“What? Say it. After the way Kayla treated him, he doesn’t deserve to be treated badly by someone like me?” I pop to my feet and stride into the kitchen to stir the chili mac and cheese.
“No!” Teague is right on my heels. “You don’t ever treat people badly, Harp.” She wraps me in a hug from behind while I stand at the stove. “You have an incredible heart. But you only play it safe when it comes to relationships, and that can shatter the people who care about you.”
“Exactly. Which is why everyone is better off if I keep my distance. Now can we please change the subject?”
Teague puffs out a breath. “You are really frustrating sometimes.”
“I know,” I say with apology in my voice, hoping that earns me some forgiveness for my bitchiness. Teague only has my best interests in her heart, and I appreciate it even when I don’t act like it.
“Will you do me one favor?”
I don’t answer right away. If I say I’m going to do something, then I do it. “Yes.”
“Give yourself a pep talk once in a while. Something like, ‘you’re a good, kind person, Harper McKinney, and you deserve happy things.’”
Sounds easy, but I know it won’t be. “Okay.”
“Thank you.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Who’s that?” I ask.
Teague shrugs. “No idea.” She pads over in her bare feet to check it out. As she does so, the phone sitting on the counter rings. My aunt or uncle is calling.
“Hello?” I say into the receiver.
“Hi, Harper. How are you?” my aunt asks.
“I’m good. How are you?”
“Stressed! Hey, I just sent a flower deliveryman back to you. He’s got a gorgeous bouquet for Teague.”
As if on cue, my roommate squeals in delight.
“Thanks, Aunt Betsy. She just opened the door.”
“Tell her Mateo has good taste, and we’ll miss the two of them at the wedding.”
“I will. I’ll see you Sunday, if not before.” We may live only a few hundred feet away from each other, but we rarely have a face-to-face.
“Sounds good. Bye, sweetie.”
“Bye.”
Teague deposits a gigantic vase of pink flowers on the kitchen table. Roses, daisies, and peonies in her favorite color equal delight times a thousand on her face. She plucks out the card. As she reads it, she blushes, and smiles so hard I bet her cheeks hurt.
I find some of the tension leaving me. I’m happy she’s found someone who loves her and treats her like she deserves to be treated. It’s the uncomfortable stab of jealousy in my chest I’m not so happy about. I’ve never been envious of my friends’ relationships before. I rub my breastbone,
wishing the feeling away.
“They’re gorgeous,” I say.
“They are. I love them.” She puts her nose in the bouquet and takes a big sniff. When she lifts away, her eyes are glassy.
“What’s wrong?” I abandon the wooden spoon I’ve been using to stir our dinner.
“Nothing.” She fans her face with her hand. “It’s just Mateo and I got in a fight this morning, and he wanted to apologize. Harp, I love him so much it’s scary sometimes.”
“I know.” Hence the reason I will not let myself fall in love. I can’t be vulnerable to hurt again. Can’t risk losing someone. I won’t recover a second time. “But he loves you, too, Tea, just as much.”
She nods and takes in the flower arrangement again. There’s got to be three-dozen blooms in there. I’m curious what she and Mateo fought about, but it’s clear it doesn’t matter, so I don’t ask.
We take our big bowls of chili mac and cheese outside to eat. There’s a tiny breeze that brings the smell of oranges with it. Our neighbor has a large tree that hangs over the fence. My aunt loves the free fruit and makes fresh OJ for my uncle on the weekends. As the sun drops away, Teague tells me about her upcoming trip. I’m grateful she’s in a talkative mood so I can mostly listen. The pool glistens behind her, catching my eye often, and leading my mind to Joe.
And Levi.
Joe.
Levi.
Levi.
Levi.
It’s not until hours later when I’m lying in bed that I realize he pushed out all thoughts of Joe. That’s never happened to me before. Ever.
I cover my face with my pillow. I’m in serious trouble.
Harper’s Positivity Journal
August 24th
Happy Pants!
Because how can you not be happy when wearing HP’s?
Go with me on this…
Fabric so soft it feels like I’ve stepped into a tub of silk and cashmere
A secret pocket filled with a lucky gold charm—like the stamped penny I got from the zoo when I was little and carried around with me for months. I won the spelling bee that year!
No matter how often I wear them, they never need to be washed, so they never shrink and they always smell fabric-softener fresh. They’re also totally stain resistant!
Lips Close to Mine (Wherever You Go) Page 11