Where We Belong

by Shann McPherson

  I hadn’t expected it to hurt this much. I hadn’t expected Harley’s rejection to feel like such a slap to the face. I know I’m not even close to being his type, but I still hadn’t expected to feel such emotion. I’m embarrassed, humiliated and angry with myself, and I can’t help but wonder what the hell I’ve just gone and done.

  Chapter 20

  I woke with a hangover. At least, I thought it was a hangover. Now as I stand under the hot water in the shower, the taste of regret is still lingering on my tongue like the taste of a bad pill. I’m almost certain this is what humiliation tastes like, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. My treacherous mind keeps replaying the events of last night over and over again, torturing me, mocking me. All I see when I close my eyes is Harley’s face when he pulled away from me, mid-kiss. The sheer look of horror in his wide eyes as if he couldn’t for the life of him believe what I was doing. The way his nose scrunched up in disgust. The way his top lip curled in a way that is like a thousand knives stabbing me right in the heart.

  I can’t believe how stupid I am. I doubt I’ll ever be able to look Harley in the eye again. And now, here I am, forced to spend the next three hours alone in a car with him. I curse under my breath, allowing my head to fall forward, my forehead resting against the tile of the shower recess. I bang my head a few times in the hope it might help knock some sense into me, but I’m just tormenting myself even further.

  Showered, dressed and ready to go, I wait on the porch with my overnight bag by my feet, checking the clock on my phone for the hundredth time in the last five minutes. He’s almost ten minutes late. Maybe he went on without me. Not that I would mind, or even blame him. I should never have said yes to this damn bachelor party in the first place, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Plus, if I’d said no, then Anna was going to make me join the girls. And there is no way in hell I was going to put myself through that torture. But now, with these morning-after regrets swirling around in my belly, I’m seriously beginning to think this whole thing was a terrible idea. And, in fact, the more I think about it, the more I truly do hope Harley has ditched me and gone on to South Carolina without me.

  But, of course, I could never have such luck. When the thunderous roar of a V8 engine rumbles through the otherwise silent morning, I glance up from my phone to see Harley’s Ford pulling up to stop at the curb. I exhale a sigh of defeat and my heart jumps up into the back of my throat as I watch him climb out of the cab.

  “Great,” I murmur under my breath, taking my sunglasses from where I’d hooked them into the collar of my shirt and, removing my spectacles, I slide the tinted glasses over my tender eyes in a petty attempt to avoid making eye contact with him. Picking up my bag, I hesitantly walk down the steps, watching the ground as I cross the front yard.

  “Morning,” he offers, his voice gruff as he takes my carryall from me, placing it into the truck bed next to his duffel bag.

  I could be the bigger person, apologize for my actions last night, and we could both move on and have a wonderful day. But I’m not the bigger person. I never have been. I’m as stubborn as a mule. And suddenly my maturity level is nonexistent as I say nothing, ignoring him with my chin held slightly higher in the air while I walk around to the passenger side.

  Inside, the truck is silent as I struggle to get myself comfortable while composing what little dignity I have, quickly fastening my seat belt. But then Harley opens his door and climbs in, and I’m immediately hit with that same insufferable scent as it inundates the confines of the tiny space, swirling around me, and it only helps in reminding me of last night. I roll my eyes beneath the tint of my sunglasses, shaking my head as my subconscious reminds me: three excruciating hours.

  Without saying a word, Harley starts the engine, and I’m thankful for the sudden onslaught of music drowning out the painful silence. Even if it is Mötley Crüe.

  ***

  Our first stop is unexpectedly only about thirty minutes out of town, and I glance up from my book, looking out the window at the gas station we’re parked at in the middle of nowhere, confused as to why we’ve pulled over.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, looking at Harley as he unfastens his seat belt. “Are we out of gas?”

  “I need to piss,” he grunts.

  “Charming,” I quip, quirking a brow.

  Ignoring my comment, he opens his door and slides out, and I expect him to slam it shut in my face without so much as another word. But then he surprises me. “You want anything from inside?” he asks without looking at me.

  This time I ignore him, looking back down at my book. The slamming door follows a heavy sigh and after a moment I slowly lift my head, watching as he hurries across the lot and disappears inside. I relax back in my seat, releasing what feels like the first breath I’ve taken since we left my house. For the last half-hour I’ve been pretending to read a damn book, when in actual fact I haven’t even turned the first page. I’ve been far too consumed with Harley. From the dramatic sighs I’m almost certain are for my benefit only, to the way he’s been obviously glancing at me every few minutes. His hands have been gripping the steering wheel so tight I’m surprised he hasn’t lost feeling in his fingers.

  I can tell he wants to talk to me, no doubt about what happened last night, but I’d rather jump out of this godforsaken truck at seventy miles an hour on the interstate than have that conversation. Last night does not need to be discussed. Ever. I got carried away and I made a damn fool of myself. That’s it. Nothing more. I’ve accepted the fact that Nash is marrying Anna, and he’s happy. Now I just need to accept the fact that guys like Harley Shaw will never go for girls like me and, when we kiss them, they will run a mile and never look back.

  Am I little offended that he wouldn’t even kiss me when he bangs almost anything with a vagina that walks into his bar? Yes. What woman wouldn’t be? But I’m sure what happened last night is for the best. If he would’ve entertained my pass, taken me upstairs and given me the Shaw Special all the girls in senior year used to giggle about, no doubt things would be even more awkward than they already are right now. I mean, he did me a favor. End of story. Right? It has to be. End of.

  I stiffen immediately when I see Harley walking back toward the truck, and I go straight back to my book, pretending once again to be so caught up in it I don’t even notice his return.

  “I got you a coffee.” He places a to-go cup in the center holder before taking a sip of his own and humming in appreciation, causing me to inwardly cringe, because it only sparks memories from the night before, memories I’m trying so hard to forget.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, refusing to look up from my book. I don’t want to accept his coffee, but after thirty solid minutes of listening to his terrible choice in music, I really could use a caffeine hit, and the smell of freshly roasted beans does cause me to salivate. But I hold out until we’re back on the interstate before I reluctantly reach out for the cup. Taking a sheepish sip, I catch the smug smirk curling Harley’s lips from the corner of my eye, and I turn away to focus on the fast-passing fields out the window to avoid him altogether.

  “So,” Harley begins, clearing his throat. “Are you ready to talk about what happened last night?”

  I cower a little in my seat, gripping my coffee cup tight, my jaw clenching. He turns down the music playing through the cab until it’s nothing but the hint of a tune, and it’s just the two of us once again. I close my eyes behind my sunglasses, trying so hard to mentally prepare myself. With a big sigh, I squirm a little in my seat, forcing myself to look at him to see his gaze set intently on the road ahead, his face impassive. Yes, I could tell him the truth. But I don’t even know what that truth is right now. So, of course, I do what any woman would do in this situation. I lie through my teeth.

  “I was drunk,” I say with a casual shrug, trying to act as if it isn’t a big deal. “I’m sorry, but I don’t even really remember anything from last night.” My subconscious is laughing at me as I
take another sip from my coffee, staring at the back of the semitrailer following the road in front of us.

  “You don’t remember?” Harley repeats as if he’s trying to make sense of my outright lie, and there’s something about his tone; he totally knows I’m lying.

  I shrug again with a shake of my head when I feel his eyes on me.

  “O-kay …” He trails off, and another awkward silence ensues.

  Thankfully no more is said, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, my mind is a mess by the time we eventually arrive at Myrtle Beach. You see, the problem is my feelings have done a complete one-eighty, without me even realizing until it’s too late. What I wanted my whole life, I suddenly no longer want, and I’m starting to wonder whether I truly wanted it in the first place. What I never wanted is now all I can think about and, again, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve secretly wanted it all along. But after last night I’ve realized what I want doesn’t want me back. And that hurts like hell, more than I’d ever expected it to hurt. And I’m trying to remain unaffected—indifferent—but it’s driving me completely insane.

  ***

  “Y’all finally made it!”

  Nash jogs down the front stairs of the beach house as Harley and I climb out of the truck, stretching after the long drive. The place is a mansion. Three stories. All windows. And, of course, right on the beach. The sheer size and grandeur leave me speechless as I crane my neck to take it all in.

  “Yeah, we made it,” Harley murmurs, stopping beside me and huffing out a sigh as he rests his hands on his hips, eyeing the house dubiously. When Nash glances at me, I nod, quickly looking away.

  “You two are on the top floor. It’s a little more private …” Nash clears his throat, suddenly looking awkward as hell.

  My shoulders fall in resignation when I realize I have to share a room with Harley, and I don’t know why I’m surprised, really. Of course we’re expected to share a room; we are head over heels in love with one another, after all. I can’t help but shake my head at my own thoughts.

  “Thanks, man.” Harley flashes me a sideways glance and I’m forced to avert my eyes, looking down at the wayward stones by my feet.

  “Don’t look too excited.” Nash chuckles, looking from Harley to me.

  I snap my gaze up, meeting his eyes, and I force a smile onto my face. But then I see a slight furrow pull between his brows as he looks between the both of us again. “Is everything okay between you two?”

  I swallow hard, nodding a little too quickly. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

  Harley clears his throat from beside me, not saying a word as he moves to retrieve our bags from the back of the truck, and Nash nods, but I can tell he doesn’t completely believe me. “Okay.” He claps his hands together, forcing a smile. “Well, the bus will be here in an hour to take us to the Speedway.”

  “We’ll just drop our bags off upstairs and get ready,” Harley says with a curt nod for me to follow as he turns and leads the way carrying both our overnight bags.

  “Y’all better get ready to eat my dust!” Nash yells from behind, more excited than a kid on Christmas Eve. And I laugh for what feels like the first time in forever, rolling my eyes at him. I know he’s just excited to drive a real NASCAR stock car, but there’s too much damn tension in the air between Harley and me. I can barely breathe it’s so stifling. I hope we sort our issues out sooner rather than later, or else the whole bachelor party is going to be a living hell for everyone.

  Inside the house, the foyer opens up to an expansive sunken living area with a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading out to a sprawling deck overlooking the ocean. Outside, I can see Kevin, Seth, and a few other guys I’m assuming are Nash’s friends from New York, all taking in the view, and I can’t blame them. It’s spectacular. I want to say something about the unimaginable color of the sparkling azure ocean, but Harley doesn’t bother stopping as he continues up the stairs, clearly not as taken aback as I am. We make it to the landing in an uncomfortable silence. To the right is a sitting room with a small balcony opening up to yet another view of the water, and to the left is a door, which I’m assuming is our designated sleeping quarters.

  “I guess this is us.” Harley breathes a little unsteadily, looking up at the door.

  I nod, pushing the door open, and we’re greeted by pale gray walls, navy drapes, and crisp white finishings. Across the space, the floor-to-ceiling windows and doors open to another small balcony overlooking the expansive Atlantic, and I’m still enamored by the view. It’s a beautiful sight. But then my eyes move to the big bed in the center of the room, and my heart sinks into the depths of my belly.

  “I’ll sleep on this,” Harley grunts as if he can read my mind, stepping around me and dumping his duffel bag onto the armchair sitting by the balcony doors.

  I don’t know if I should be offended or not. I mean, he couldn’t have raced to the chair any quicker if he tried. I want to say something. I want to argue and tell him not to be stupid. We’re adults. And there are plenty of pillows to stack between us as a makeshift barricade if we sleep in the bed together. But I don’t say anything. I can’t. I don’t have time. Before I even have the chance, he disappears into the en-suite bathroom and all I can hear is the pipes as they come to life behind the wall, before the sound of the shower drowns out my thoughts.

  Chapter 21

  I’ve been standing in front of the windows just staring out at the ocean in some kind of a trance, watching the water dance beneath the sun. For so long, in fact, I don’t even hear the door to the bathroom open.

  “Your turn.”

  I startle from the sound of Harley’s gravelly voice behind me, and I turn quickly, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Surrounded by a plume of steam swirling around him as it escapes the bathroom, he’s barely even covered by a towel wrapped around his waist, hanging so low on his hips my eyes are instantly drawn to the V-lines of his pelvis, to the light smattering of hair that leads from his belly button down into the depths of the great unknown. Water droplets drip from the lengths of his wet curls, gliding down over his taut skin, trailing over the peaks and valleys of his tattooed chest.

  I do everything I can to force my eyes back up but, when I do, I can’t help but notice the hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he watches me, and I know right at that moment that I’ve been caught outwardly ogling him. My cheeks immediately heat and I gasp when I realize I haven’t taken a breath, coughing to disguise my obvious reaction. Turning quickly, I reach for my overnight bag and busy myself with rifling through its contents, grabbing what I need, fully aware of Harley watching me from the small space between the foot of the bed and the bathroom door. With a change of clothes under my arm and my bathroom caddy clutched within a death-like grip, I avoid his knowing gaze as I step past him, holding my breath as I brush against his warm, wet body.

  And once I’m in the safety of the bathroom, I practically slam the door shut behind me, collecting myself as best I can as I take the moment I need.

  I thought another shower might help wash away some of the confusion racking my mind and my body, but it does nothing of the sort. It does the opposite, actually. All I could think about while I stood beneath the warm flowing water was the fact that Harley’s wet, naked body had been standing in the exact same spot only moments earlier. Then I began thinking all sorts of highly inappropriate things, so I got out of there as fast as I could without slipping on the wet tile and killing myself.

  Now, as I stand here staring at myself in the slightly foggy mirror, dressed in my jean shorts and bra, I’m in a much worse state than I was before, if that’s even possible.

  Damn him and his perfect body. Damn those tattoos. Damn that look he gets in his eyes when it’s as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking when I shouldn’t be thinking anything of the sort. Damn Harley Shaw. And damn me. In fact, damn Nash. He should never have invited me on his damn bachelor party. I have no place being here. I absolutely should never have said yes. I
should’ve just stayed at home, alone, where I belong. The whole party is going to end in disaster if I don’t get my emotions in check. I swear, I’m like a 14-year-old girl, giddy and fumbling for no reason. I need to steer clear of Harley for the rest of the trip.

  I release a sigh of relief when I finally come out of the bathroom to find the bedroom empty and no trace whatsoever of Harley except for the lingering hint of his cologne, hanging heavily in the air as if it’s mocking me. But I shake my head, ridding every thought of him from my mind while I collect what I need and hurry the hell out of there before I search for that damn cologne bottle and spritz my pillow with it.

  Downstairs, the guys are crowding the living area watching some baseball game on television, their eyes glued to the screen. I take the opportunity to slip out onto the back deck unnoticed. The minute the salt air hits me, a smile immediately claims my entire face. I grip the glass railing, closing my eyes as the midday sun lands on my face, warming my skin, and I listen to the rhythmic flow of the waves as they crash onto the shore, the seagulls squawking in the background. If heaven had a soundtrack, I’m sure this would be it.

  “What’cha doin’ out here?”

  The calm that had been cleansing my body is torn from me as I startle from the sound of Nash’s voice pulling me from my reverie. I turn to see him walking out onto the deck, smiling as he joins me at the railing. I manage a smile, turning back to the view of the water. “It’s so nice here.” I close my eyes once again, breathing in that same beach smell.

  “Yeah,” he says from beside me. “Anna sure did a good job finding this place.”

  I roll my eyes behind my eyelids at the mention of Anna. Of course, this was all her doing. It’s perfect. Just like her. I swear the two of them are made for each other. And me? Well, I was just some stand-in for Nash until he found his perfect match. I’m the girl who will never be good enough for anyone.