Chapter 9 – Harper
NINE
HARPER
“You guys look so cute here,” Ava says, gasping as she scrolls on her phone while I fit the bridesmaid dress to Jules’s body as she stands in Ava’s living room.
Yes, a bridesmaid dress, because in less than a week, I’m having a not-quite-shotgun wedding to a rockstar to save my reputation, get some petty revenge on my ex, and help shift the focus from our friends.
The only requirement I had for this wedding was that my girls and I wear gowns made by me. With the short timeline, I went with simple, silky shift dresses for all of us with loose bows holding the nearly nonexistent back together.
It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. Elegant and simple. Luxurious, yet approachable.
“What?” I ask, pins between my teeth as I focus on not pricking my friend.
Ava hands her phone to Jules, who gasps much the same way Ava just did, piquing my interest even more.
“Oh my god, you do! How did they get these pictures already?” Jules asks, and I stand, putting the pins into the pillow at my wrist. I grab the phone from Ava’s hands. Then I stare in shock at the photo on the tabloid website.
“Atlas Oaks Guitarist Reveals New Flame,” the headline reads. Below that, there are side-by-side headshots of me and Wes, mine clearly pulled from my barebones website, his I’ve seen a few times in various magazines and social media posts. Beneath that is a candid shot of Wes and me at the burger place he took me to after we made our agreement, my head tipped back as I laugh in my way-too-fancy outfit, Wes lifting a fry to his mouth and looking at me with an expression I hadn’t noticed before, a small smile on his lips.
The way he’s gazing at me makes my belly flip and scream a million things that simply aren’t true. Things that aren’t something Wes Holden would think about me. But still, it sells the exact story we’re trying to sell without even meaning to. He was made for this stealth fake relationship shit.
I wonder if he knew they were there taking photos, that our mission was already rolling, because I know I didn’t think that was the case.
Quickly, my eyes move to the caption.
Insider sources say Holden and Abbott have been dating for some time, laying to rest the rumors that she was chasing after her ex while he was having an affair with Clarissa Astor, heiress to the Astor fashion empire. Our sources also confirm Holden was at the police station when the gown designer was released two weeks ago after glittering Mr. Vaughn's lawn.
“The glitter was a fun joke that was taken too seriously,” Leo Moretti, a representative for Holden’s band, Atlas Oaks, told Fan Magazine. “That’s the problem with the world these days: people are too quick to judge, too quick to look for the worst in people. Was it the most mature act? Of course not. But there are much bigger problems in our world today than whether or not someone is putting glitter on their ex’s lawn.”
The date was a part of a charity auction, where attendees told us Harper overbid on the auction item with fervency. “It was like she didn’t want anyone else to spend time with her man. It was so romantic,” one attendee told our team.
Customers and employees at the burger bar spoke to Fan Magazine as well, telling us the couple seemed completely in love and didn’t seem to notice anyone around them. Reports say they were laughing and holding hands the entire night, and now there are whispers of wedding bells in the future.
We, for one, are happy to see Harper happy and even happier to see yet another man of Atlas Oaks fall in love.”
“Wow,” I whisper after reading the article. “Leo really is good at his job.” The article has everything I could ever have wished for: putting rumors to rest, canceling out the bad press Clarissa has been spreading by making it seem childish, planting a seed of history with Wes and me, and, of course, making us seem like a real couple.
“Uh, Harp, I think the magazine could have just posted that picture and nothing else, and it would have been a slam dunk,” Ava says, and I look at her with confusion.
“What?” I ask, my gaze bouncing from Ava to the phone and then handing it back to her. She stares at the photo again, sighing with joy. I roll my eyes when I realize what she was insinuating. “You’re insane. It’s just good journalism, Ava. That’s all.”
“What do you think your first kiss is going to be like?” Jules asks, and I freeze in place.
“What?”
“Well, I mean…eventually, you’ll have to kiss. You’re getting married , after all.”
I feel it building again, that all-consuming panic that has come in waves since the arrest, though I can’t quite pinpoint the source of it this time.
I shake my head in disagreement. “No, we don’t. Why would we have to do any of that?”
Ava rolls her eyes, and Jules bites her lip.
“Jesus, Harp. What are you going to do when they say you can kiss the bride? Put a hand out and shake on it? Plus, I’m sure there will be situations over your fake marriage where you’ll have to kiss him.” Ava’s face goes contemplative as she takes in me and my new panic. “You do know that, right?”
“I…I didn’t really think about it if I’m being honest.”
I grab the drink Jules made me and down the rest of it.
“Atta girl,” Ava says, clapping, but I ignore her.
“I’m going to kiss him for the first time in front of fifty people.” The panic builds even further with the mere idea of it.
“You should practice,” Ava says, like it’s some idea she just came up with, but I can almost guarantee she’s been sitting on it for a second. The woman can’t lie to save her soul.
“Practice?”
“It’s actually not a bad idea,” Jules says with a shrug. “That way, if and when you have to do it for a camera, it’s not awkward.”
“How does one practice kissing?” I ask, confused.
“Well, you see, you have two willing participants, both of whom have a set of lips,” Ava starts, and I roll my eyes.
“You’re so annoying,” I groan.
“I think she’s asking how, when her wedding is in less than a week and they don’t exactly live together,” Jules says.
“He’s her husband ,” Ava says, throwing her hands in the air like it’s obvious.
“Not for real!” I shout, suddenly feeling like I can’t breathe. “And not yet! I can’t kiss him for the first time in front of cameras, you guys. What if I’m terrible? What if I kiss him, and he goes, oof, no thanks , and calls it all off? That would be so embarrassing!” Ava lets out a snort, and Jules rolls her lips in, trying to fight a laugh. “I’m serious , you guys!”
With that, Ava stands and reaches for her keys. “Then let’s go find Prince Charming.”
“What?” I ask, confusion now added to my panic.
“Let’s go to Wes’s house, and you kiss him. Practice before the cameras.”
“I can’t?—”
“Why not?” Jules asks, usually the voice of reason of the two. “It’s better than worrying about it for an entire week.” She’s right there , I think. “Come on. Let’s go,” she says with a clap of her hands.
Before I even know what we’re doing, we’re moving out the door and into Ava’s car, getting Wes’s address from Jaime, and are on our way to my fiancé’s house.
“Go!” Ava says, pushing me out the car door as we sit, parked in front of Wes’ house. Jaime got us past the gated entrance, and now we’re outside the McMansion, and I’m…panicking.
“This was a bad idea,” I say, hoping it’s not too late to run away. “We should?—”
And then, because my life is what it is, the front light goes on.
And the front door opens up.
And my fiancé steps onto the front step.
“Harper?” he shouts across the lawn.
“Go!” Jules says. “If you run now, it’ll be weird.”
You wanted to be spontaneous, Harper , I tell myself as I move out of the car on autopilot, walking up the long path until I reach his front door.
“Harper. What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” Wes asks. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that fits way too fucking well, it clinging to his chest like he just got done with a workout, with a pair of loose gray sweatpants to complete the look.
I look at him, then over at the car I just left, then step inside his house, closing the door because if this gets embarrassing, I don’t want witnesses. He watches me with an amused smile as I stand in his foyer, focusing only on him before taking two steps, closing the gap between us to barely a foot.
“I think,” I start, not bothering with a hello or explanation. I put my hands on my hips and try to approach this from a professional standpoint. “I think we need to kiss.”
“Kiss?” he asks, a shocked expression on his face. Then there’s a hint of a smile pulling at his lips, and I blush but continue on.
“Yes. If we’re going to have to fake it for the cameras and whatnot, we’ll have to make it seem real. I’ve seen those shows where they tear apart the body language of a couple, and I don't want to give anyone anything to dissect. I also very much do not want to do it for the first time on our wedding day in front of a lot of people.”
“Yeah, I definitely don't want that either,” he says, voice low and rumbly as he steps closer, a hand moving to the thin fabric at my waist. His wide hand burns there, but I force myself to stay focused.
“We’re already trending, you know,” I say. “On social media.”
“Mmm, I saw that. The burger place photo of us is good.” I wonder if he stumbled upon it, if he went looking, or if, like me, he has his friends sending it to him. He finishes closing the gap between us, and I’m forced to look up at him. His chin is tipped down as he smiles at me, his lips full and enticing.
How did I never realize how tall he is?
“So practicing kissing, huh?” Wes says, pulling me out of my reverie. “How does this work? Do I kiss you, or do you?—”
I cut him off, afraid to overthink this any more than I am. I shift onto my toes, erasing the few inches needed to press my lips to his, and kiss Wes Holden, taking him completely off guard by the small gasp he lets out before his other hand goes to my jaw.
It’s euphoric, his lips on mine. It’s better than I could have ever imagined, and terrifyingly, it doesn’t feel awkward at all. I like it all—the way his hand tightens on my lower back, the way he pulls me in against him, the way he takes over the kiss almost instantly. The way his lips part and how his tongue slides out to graze along my bottom lip.
I sigh, letting him in as his hand moves to the back of my head, using his fingers tangled in my hair to guide me where he wants me. He deepens the kiss, tasting me, nipping and sucking as he goes.
My hands move up, one looping around his neck, the other moving to his chest as he takes a step forward, pinning my back to the wall, and I groan, fingers tightening in the collar of his shirt to pull him closer.
My body is on fire, and I think the only way to put it out is to do more . To get more, taste more, have more. His skin on mine is the only thing that seems to soothe the ache taking over me. His hand on my waist moves down, grabbing a handful of my ass, and he groans loudly, pulling me closer to him, and I feel it then, his hard cock poking into my belly.
The man wants me, and not in a fake way at all.
It’s a relief, considering how my body is pulsing with need right now, canceling out any and all common sense I should be feeling and?—
My phone beeps with a new text in my pocket, my body tensing as another comes through, bringing me back down to reality.
And probably for the best, because I’m clearly too tired from a long day and out of my damn mind. Slowly, Wes breaks the kiss, leaving a few small kisses before leaning his forehead against mine, a smile playing on his lips.
“How was that for practicing?” he asks.
I step aside, moving away and wiping my hands down my dress, pulling my shoulders back and giving him a small nod.
“Good. Good. That was...that was good.” I step back and put a hand out to him to shake, like this is some weird business transaction.
He stares at me for a moment before he laughs loudly, his head tilting back, and I have to fight the urge to laugh with him. Then he moves forward suddenly, his arm wrapping around my back in one move and tugging me close, looking down at me with that panty-dropping smile I worry I won’t be able to resist.
“You’re so into me, little wife.”
“I so am not,” I say, aghast. “I have to go.” He just shrugs, stepping back and opening the door to let me leave, going with my insanity.
“I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to admit it.”