“Am I?”
She doesn’t answer for a moment. Just reaches for her water bottle, avoiding my eyes. “I used to like him a few years ago. But that ship has long since sailed,” she says gently, toying with the water bottle in her lap. I can see memories swirling around her eyes as a smile touches her mouth.
“Then why does he look at you differently?” I push.
She waves her hand in dismissal, shaking her head and breathing a gentle laugh.
Harper and Ryland have been close for as long as I’ve known them. They went to school together, but it wasn’t until their senior year that they started to become friends. Since I’ve been around, it’s so fucking obvious to everyone around them, except for themselves. Luca and I have discussed many ways to get them together, from literally banging their heads together to a blind date. But nothing ever happens.
“Speaking of looking different, can we talk about you andElias?” She draws his name out seductively.
I scoff, crossing my arms in front of me. “There’s nothing to talk about. He was just beingnice,” I scoff out the last word, earning a glare from Harper.
“I notice everything, girl,” she says, squinting her eyes and tapping her temple. “You like him.”
“Even if I did, there’s no way he likes me,” I protest, a blush creeping into my cheeks, and I try to subtly place my hands on my face to cool them.
“I noticed how your mood shifted at work the other day. Speaking of, actually. Are you okay?” she asks, genuine concern lacing her voice, her brow pulled tight with worry.
A lump forms in my throat.
Am I okay?
I drop my eyes to the floor, avoiding her inquisitive stare. It’s difficult to tell what people actually want to know. Throughout my whole life, I’ve struggled with that question. Do people actually want to know I’m okay, or are they trying to make themselves feel better by asking? But when it comes to Harper, I know the latter isn’t the case. She cares about me. Genuinely. Completely. Even so, the response that comes out of me is almost automatic at this stage.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. Too quickly. The weight of the smile painted on my face weighs heavily, and I have to fight to keep it up.
Harper doesn’t say anything, but I feel her assessing me. Her stare may as well be a branding iron right to my fucking cheek.
“I’m serious,” she says quietly.
My stomach twists. I don’t want to ruin this. The positive mood. The normalcy. If I say it out loud, it becomes real. I don’t want it to be real. I want it to be a stupid misunderstanding.
But it’s not.
Her hand rests over mine in my lap. I think about pulling away, but I see her shoulders fall in my periphery, and something in me cracks. The crack is large enough that the memory creeps in slowly, like dark tendrils clawing at my consciousness. The click of my apartment door locking. The way his breath felt on my throat. The way I was too weak to stop him.
Until I wasn’t.
I swallow. “He came into my apartment,” I say, barely above a whisper.
Harper goes still beside me.
“I think he spiked me. Not enough to make me black out, but enough to make me… compliant. I didn’t say no—I didn’t say yes either.”
Silence.
“Did he hurt you?” she asks carefully, like one wrong word will cause me to break.
I shake my head, letting my hair fall and cover my face. My shield. “No. I managed to push him off and kick him out before… you know.”
Harper exhales beside me. But it’s not relief—it’s anger. I tilt my head up to look at my best friend. War wages behind her eyes as her jaw clenches.
“Who is he?” she asks.
I don’t answer.
“Kat. Just a name.” She squeezes my hand.