Chapter 21
I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of my shirt for what felt like the tenth time. This was my first Hockey Christmas party, and according to Shane, it was a night to remember–or survive, depending on who you asked.
The past two weeks had been a blur of almosts and not-quites.
Harper and I had mastered the art of toeing the line–sharing late-night conversations that lingered too long, exchanging glances that said more than we ever dared to speak aloud.
There were moments I thought she might kiss me.
Moments where I nearly closed the distance myself.
But each time, one of us pulled back. Hesitated.
Too much unspoken. Too much at risk.
Still, those near misses had me spinning. I could barely sleep without replaying them–her laugh echoing in my chest, the way her hand would linger near mine, the way she’d look at me like maybe she wanted more too.
And now I was stuck somewhere in between desperate to touch her, and terrified I’d ruin everything if I did.
If she gave me a sign tonight, though?
I wasn’t sure I’d be strong enough to stop myself.
I tugged on my jacket, smoothing out the fabric in front of the mirror when my phone buzzed on the dresser. It was a text from Harper.
Harper: What are you wearing?
A grin spread across my face as I grabbed my phone. There wasn’t a single casual interpretation of that text.
I flipped the camera to selfie mode, adjusting my expression until it landed somewhere between effortless and charming. Snapping the photo, I sent it with a quick caption:
Ryan: This. What do you think?
The three little dots appeared immediately.
Harper:
I chuckled under my breath, the tension in my chest loosening just a bit.
Ryan: Your turn. What are you wearing?
Harper: You’ll have to wait and see.
I stared at her reply for a moment, imagining all the possibilities. Knowing Harper, she could make a hoodie and leggings look like a runway outfit. But for tonight? My pulse quickened at the thought.
I had offered to pick her and Nina up, but she declined, saying something about not wanting to give the hockey moms any extra gossip fodder. Fair point. That crew could rival TMZ when it came to spreading rumours.
By the time I was in the truck, headed to Shane’s, my head was still spinning with thoughts of Harper. It wasn’t just the anticipation of seeing her tonight–it was everything. The way she made me laugh, the way she looked at me like she could see right through the walls I didn’t even know I had.
I pulled up to Shane’s place and honked once. He appeared a minute later, swaggering out with a grin that suggested he was already in party mode.
“Ready to let loose, Barzal?” he asked, hopping into the passenger seat.
I snorted. “Do I have a choice? You’ve been hyping this up for weeks. If it’s anything less than legendary, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“Oh, trust me, it’s legendary,” he said, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. “You’ve got booze, music, and a bunch of hockey parents desperate for a break from their kids. What could possibly go wrong?”
Shane started scrolling through my radio presets, landing on a station blasting Christmas classics remixed with a bass-heavy beat.
“And,” he added, leaning back smugly, “if that wasn’t enough incentive, I heard Harper’s gonna be there.”
My hand tightened on the steering wheel, but I kept my tone neutral. “What’s your point?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Shane said, shooting me a knowing look. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.”
“Can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”
Shane snorted. “Sure, sure. Just a heads up though, buddy–if you’re planning on sneaking off with her tonight, you’ll need to be real discreet. Those moms? They’re like bloodhounds for drama.”
I laughed, but the thought of stealing some time alone with Harper wasn’t exactly unappealing.
As we neared the civic centre, my mind drifted back to her text. What was she wearing? What was she thinking right now? And more importantly, how the hell was I supposed to focus on anything else tonight when all I wanted was her?
The room buzzed with laughter and conversation as I stood near the drinks table, chatting with Shane and a few hockey dads. I nodded along to a story about last season’s playoffs, Shane holding court as usual, tossing in sarcastic jabs and keeping everyone laughing.
I laughed at the right moments, but my focus was elsewhere, scanning the crowd.
And then the door opened, and a cold gust of late-December air swept in.
Everything else fell away.
Nina walked in first, her sparkly black dress catching the soft glow of the string lights overhead. Her brown hair was down in loose curls, and she moved with her usual easy confidence, a knowing smile already tugging at her lips as she scanned the room.
It was Harper who stole the air from my lungs, though.
Her blonde hair was styled half-up, loose waves spilling over her shoulders, soft and golden in the light.
The red dress she wore hugged every curve perfectly, the fabric shimmering slightly as she moved.
It clung to her in all the right places, showing off the toned strength of her frame while still leaving enough to the imagination.
Her smooth skin glowed against the deep red of the fabric, and when my gaze dropped to her legs, I caught sight of black leather heels that made her look like she’d stepped out of a God damn dream.
I was rooted to the spot, mouth going dry. My brain short-circuited. All I could think–over and over–was I need her. Right. Now.
“Barzal,” one of the dads said, snapping me out of my daze.
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” I forced a tight smile and cleared my throat, answering the dad’s question about stick tape or some other inconsequential topic before excusing myself. My drink hit the table harder than I meant to, and I grabbed two glasses of champagne from the server walking by.
Shane was still smirking as I headed toward the women. “Good luck, lover boy,” he called after me.
I ignored him, weaving through the crowd until I was standing in front of Harper and Nina. Harper looked up at me, her green eyes meeting mine, and her shy smile made my pulse hammer.
“Wow,” I said, handing each of them a glass of champagne. “You both look… absolutely stunning tonight.”
“Why, thank you,” Nina replied, flashing me a grin and taking her glass.
Harper’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, murmuring a quiet, “Thanks, Ryan.”
Shane joined us then, drink in hand and already full of his usual snark. “Nina,” he drawled, giving her an exaggerated once-over, “don’t you clean up nice? Almost didn’t recognize you without the usual scowl.”
“Funny,” Nina shot back, arching a brow. “I was about to say the same thing about you–except I still recognize the smug face.”
Shane laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast. “You’re welcome. Also, you do look good. Like, for real.”
Nina rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her small smile as she sipped her champagne.
I looked at Harper again, unable to help myself. Her gaze flitted to mine, and her lips curved into a soft, knowing smile that sent heat racing through me all over again.
“Should we get a table?” I asked, my voice coming out steadier than I felt.
“Sure,” Harper said, her voice quiet.
The four of us moved to a table, settling into easy conversation as the room continued to fill. Though, I barely heard a word anyone else said. My focus was locked on Harper–the way the dress moved when she shifted, the way her lips curved when she laughed.
Dinner couldn’t come fast enough–and neither could the chance to get her alone.
The lingering taste of the fancy holiday dinner was still on my tongue as I sipped my drink, laughter and music filling the civic centre.
The meal had been incredible–far fancier than I’d expected for a small town event.
There’d been nice salad with nuts and goat cheese, a perfectly cooked prime rib, tender and rich, served with all the trimmings, and a chocolate dessert so good that it might have ruined all other desserts for me.
People had started dancing now, their movements lit by the soft glow of fairy lights strung across the room. I leaned back in my chair, nursing my drink, but my focus wasn’t on the crowd–it was on Harper.
She was on the dance floor with Nina, both of them holding their drinks, swaying to the beat. Harper’s blonde hair shimmered under the lights, laughing at something Nina said. I couldn’t stop watching her, mesmerized by the way she seemed so free, so vibrant.
Eventually, they came back to the table, flushed and laughing. “Have you guys gotten your picture with Santa yet?” Harper asked, setting her empty glass down and looking between me and Shane.
“Picture with Santa?” Shane scoffed. “What are we, ten?”
Nina rolled her eyes. “Come on, it’s tradition.”
Before I could protest, Harper grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the makeshift Santa setup.
The four of us squeezed into the photo area, making goofy faces as the photographer snapped the picture. I stood beside Harper, slipping my arm around her waist. She stiffened for a second, letting out a quiet gasp, and I couldn’t help the grin tugging at my lips.
When we returned to the table, the mood was relaxed, the alcohol loosening everyone up. I kept stealing glances at Harper. She was glowing, her cheeks rosy from the wine and the warmth of the room. Our eyes met across the table, and for a moment, the noise around us faded.
I tilted my head toward the door, a silent question hanging between us.
She bit her bottom lip, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and gave the slightest nod. “I’m going to use the washroom,” she said casually, standing up.
Nina started to rise too, but Harper shot her a look and then glanced at me.
“Oh, never mind,” Nina said, sitting back down. “I don’t actually have to go.”
Shane smirked. “What’s that about? A psychic bladder?”