Chapter Twenty Five
I pull up outside Rhys’ house in my truck, the orange paint reflecting the sun’s rays. It’s supposed to be clear skies and somewhat warmer today, or in the very least, not snowing. At least, that’s what Addy told me, after thumping on my door with a picnic basket in hand and strict orders.
I don’t know much about Harper’s roommate, especially her feelings towards me or her intentions. Perhaps she’s enjoying watching the sitcom that is Harper’s life, but I won’t say no to having Harper to myself. In fact, it couldn’t have come at a better time.
Right on cue, Harper appears, leaving Rhys’ house with a bounce in her step.
A lilac dress skims her thighs beneath her black leather jacket.
Her hair is braided over her shoulder for a change, the pink ends bouncing with each step in her biker boots.
Noticing me, her green eyes narrow as her smile grows, curious but happy to play along as she nears the truck.
“Hop in, Beautiful. We’re going on a date.” She reads my lips as they move, her head tilting.
“I thought I was meeting Addy for a girl’s afternoon?” she queries, leaning against my open window on her forearms. I lean down to kiss her temple with a shrug.
“You’ve been set up, but I’ll try my best to talk about boys and compare breast sizes.” A laugh bubble of laughter bursts from her and she bops me on the nose.
“Oh Clay. Luckily for you, I’m not that kind of girl.
” Rounding the truck, she hops into the passenger seat and dives into her bag for her receivers.
I watch her click them into place with a small snap, marveling in her quiet resilience for the hundredth time.
Even in the midst of a faceless threat, she still manages to find a smile for me.
Just before I press on the accelerator, a figure leans in the house doorway, Rhys silently delivering threats across the distance with his eyes.
I make sure to throw up a middle finger as we speed away.
“What is this place?” Harper blinks up, eyes wide with wonder at the scene before us.
Greenery bursts through rocky outcrops on either side of a roaring waterfall.
A wide stream rushes by, broken by giant stones that act as stepping paths toward the manmade woodlands on the far side.
Overhead, a glass dome encloses the lush foliage, shielding it from the winter chill.
Along the far wall of the dome, a massive image has been pasted against the glass, a seamless illusion of endless fields and forests stretching to the horizon.
“They’re calling it the Terra Nova Project,” I say with a grin, impressing myself. “It’s an education center for environmental sustainability.”
Reaching for her hand, I pull her onto the first rock and help her hop across the stream.
With the picnic basket hooked in my arm, I drop from stone to stone, steadying her waist every chance I get.
She doesn’t complain. Not even when I use both hands to pull her close, any excuse to touch her after what I saw the other night.
Rhys claims Harper as if he has every right to, so why shouldn’t I?
“This is awesome, Clay,” Harper says, keeping her hand in mine even when she doesn’t need to anymore.
“I can’t take the credit. Addy planned the whole thing.”
We follow a marked trail through the trees, no words needed.
Birds sing overhead in the thick canopy, the shade breaking up the soft, filtered sunlight.
The air smells green and alive, unlike anything from my old neighborhood, where even weeds didn’t bother fighting the concrete.
Even the raccoons knew better than to dig through our trash.
They’d starve before finding anything worth stealing.
The trail climbs upward, each step providing me with a dangerously good view of Harper’s creamy thighs.
It’s a form of torture. I grab a water bottle from the basket and hand it to her, trying to play it cool.
Her responding smile is everything. My gaze lingers long enough to follow the path of water as it slides down her throat, leaving me torn between pushing her against the nearest tree and reminding myself not to screw this up by moving too fast. Wavershit is the one who’s going to burn out quick.
I’m the one who’s going to stay the course.
Reaching the top of a slope, we find ourselves above the waterfall we’d seen upon entering. Couples are scattered across the grassy overlook, picnicking on blankets just like we’re planning to do. I steer Harper toward a quiet patch, away from curious eyes.
“You hungry?” she asks, pulling the checked blanket from the basket and giving it a little shake.
“Famished,” I reply, watching her bend over to spread it out.
Her dress rides up, and every ounce of decency I have wrestles to keep my eyes elsewhere.
I’m not Rhys. I don’t take what isn’t freely given.
But as soon as Harper gives me permission, I’ll have her beneath me, panting my name and clawing at my shoulders.
“Clayton,” Harper says, giving my bicep a playful shove. I blink, realizing I’d completely zoned out. “The basket?” She gestures to where it’s nestled in the crook of my arm.
“Oh right,” I give myself a little shake. Come on Clayton, keep your head. Lowering to sit at the edge of the blanket, I leave space for the basket between us. My cargos can take a little dirt, they’ve been through worse.
Harper unpacks everything, each item more of a surprise than the last. Two mini bottles of rosé, a spread of cheeses and crackers, and chocolate-dipped strawberries. Addy seriously outdid herself.
“What is all this in aid of?” I finally ask, the question burning in my mind. “Is Addy advocating for us?” It’s a mischievous question, and Harper knows it. Giving me a sly smirk, she half shrugs.
“She’s groveling, not that she has any need to. I’m the one who was out of line.” My brows raise at this. I was under the impression that the two had grown really close.
“Dare I ask what happened?”
Harper shakes her head and I drop the subject.
Either way, I owe Addy big time. Truth is, I couldn’t have pulled this off alone.
I barely had enough gas money this week, and I’ve been living out of Rhys’ refrigerator rather than face the red light of doom on the cafeteria scanner.
Just the thought of being back in this position and living day to day stings, but I shove it away.
My mom is in the clear. That’s all that matters.
And besides, Harper’s not the kind of girl who cares about price tags.
She blushes at the smallest compliments, lights up when I call her beautiful, and leans into me like my presence is her go-to comfort.
I rest back on my forearms, pretending to admire the view whereas I’m stealing glances at her.
The vibrancy of our natural surroundings emphasizes the green of her eyes, the pink in her hair glowing warmer under the dome’s light.
Strands slip forward as reaches for the rosé and carefully lifts the miniature bottle to her mouth.
She’s at ease here, because it’s quiet. It’s peaceful and so far removed from the academy we’ve come to know.
Her bare knees brushing the blanket, her dress fluttering in the artificial breeze.
A soundless kind of joy radiates off her, one that I could watch forever.
A smear of liquid glosses her lower lip, and all I can think about is how easy it would be to lean in and taste it.
Noticing I’m not eating, Harper leans over to lift a strawberry to my mouth.
“Try one,” she insists, watching me closely.
I take a slow bite, my lips brushing her fingers on purpose.
A blush instantly coats her cheeks. Attempting to sit back on her patch of the blanket, I grip Harper’s hips and pull her closer, tucking her into my side.
She lies back on the arm I tuck behind my head, our gazes caught on the dome ceiling without really seeing it.
Nudging Harper, I open my mouth for another strawberry, and she complies with a giggle. Music to my fucking ears.
For the first time, possibly in my entire life, I relax.
Whole bodily and mentally. I release myself of the thoughts that plague me, the guilt I carry like a dead weight on my shoulders.
Here in this dome, I’m just a jock who’s acing his classes, part of the basketball team, and with an incredible girl feeding him strawberries.
I’ve paid my dues, I’ve suffered for long enough. For once, I get to be that guy.
“Can I ask you a question?” Harper’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I smirk, resting my jaw against her temple.
“Technically you just did.” She smacks my chest playfully, her hand lingering to stroke the cotton of my t-shirt nervously. I sober instantly. “Ask me anything.”
“I, um, I get the impression that you weren’t very social before I came along.
Like, with the ladies.” Harper turns her head to the side, pretending to study the landscape, and I get the impression that her cheeks are on fire.
I’m glad she’s not watching for my reaction, because my eyes are wide and my brows are pinched.
“What are you asking me exactly?”
“Well, I was curious if you… had you… been with a girl…before me?” Harper’s voice goes all high-pitched at the end, whilst I lay there mortified. It’s as if someone has taken a vacuum to my dick and attempted to shrivel it into dust.
“Was I that bad at it?!” I choke, dislodging Harper’s head. She sits upright as I do, placing her hand on my chest. I was right, she’s flushed red like a beetroot.
“No! No, no. Oh god, forget I said anything,” Harper ducks her head, nuzzling it in my shoulder. I can’t forget it now, my poor dick is all sad and droopy. “I just wanted to find out how many girls you’ve been with, that’s all. It was incredible, I promise.”