Chapter 8 #2
“Okay,” I say, composing myself. “So dinner. Subtle touches, fake laughter, general couple behavior. What else?”
“Dancing,” she says. “After dinner, there’s a live band. That’s when we really need to turn it up.”
“Turn it up how?”
“Dance close. Look at each other as if we’re the only people in the room. Make it impossible for Collin to look away.”
“And you think that’ll work? Making him jealous?”
Her jaw tightens slightly. “It has to.”
She makes another note on her phone, then looks up at me. “Okay, I think that covers the basics. Anything else you want to add?”
I should say no. I should leave it at that and let this stay simple.
But instead, I hear myself ask, “What happens after?”
She blinks. “After what?”
“After the gala. After we’ve successfully convinced everyone we’re dating. What then?”
“Oh.” She sets down her phone, suddenly very interested in her sandwich. “I don’t know. I guess we just...see how it goes.”
“With Collin.”
“Yeah. With Collin.”
I nod, ignoring the way my stomach twists. “And what if he wants you back?”
“I haven’t thought that far.” She pauses. “I guess I would consider taking him back.”
“And us?” I change the subject.
She looks up sharply. “What about us?”
“We just...stop? Go back to how things were before?”
For a second, she doesn’t answer. Just looks at me with an expression I can’t quite read.
Then she says quietly, “That was always the plan, Micah.”
“Right.” I pick up my wrap, even though I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. “Just making sure we’re on the same page.”
“We are.”
“Good.”
Silence stretches between us, heavier than before.
Harper clears her throat. “So. March 21st. You’ll pick me up at five?”
“I’ll pick you up at five.”
“And you’ll wear the suit you wore to Ivy and Gray’s wedding?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Her lips curve into something that’s definitely not innocent. “The navy one with the dark green tie? The one that actually fit your shoulders properly?”
My pulse quickens. She remembers how it fit?
“You...noticed my suit?”
“Hard not to.” She shrugs, but there’s a spark in her eyes now. “The way it fit when you lifted those chairs during cleanup? Pretty sure half the reception noticed.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Harper—”
“I’m just saying,” she continues, leaning slightly closer, “if you’re wearing that suit, we’ll be fine. The green tie will match my dress perfectly.”
I level her with a look. “Are you flirting or starting a fight?”
The words come out before I can stop them, and her eyes widen slightly.
Then she grins—slow and dangerous. “Maybe both.”
“What does your dress look like?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
And just like that, the tension shifts.
Not gone. Just...different.
“You’re going to be a nightmare at this gala, aren’t you?” I say.
“Probably.”
“Great. Can’t wait.”
“Liar. You’re totally looking forward to it.”
“I’m looking forward to it being over.”
“Sure you are.” She dips a fry into the ketchup. “Admit it, Micah. Part of you is excited.”
“Part of me is terrified.”
“Of what?”
Of falling harder than I already have. Of watching you walk away when this is over. Of pretending I’m fine when I’m not.
But I don’t say any of that.
Instead, I say, “Of you stepping on my feet during the slow dance.”
She gasps. “I’m an excellent dancer.”
“We’ll see.”
She narrows her eyes, but she’s smiling. And for just a second, sitting here in this sandwich shop with glitter in her hair and a half-eaten turkey club in front of her, I let myself believe that maybe this won’t destroy me.
We finish our food; the conversation drifting to safer topics—her students, my plans for the upcoming kids’ ministry event, whether the silent auction will have anything worth bidding on.
The server drops off the check, and Harper reaches for it immediately.
“I’ve got it,” I say, pulling it toward me.
“Micah, you’re doing me a huge favor. I should pay.”
“You’re not paying.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“Harper.” I hold the check out of her reach. “I’ve got it.”
She crosses her arms. “This feels like toxic masculinity.”
“This is called being polite.”
“It’s my lunch invitation.”
“And it’s my decision to pay.”
We stare at each other, and I can see her deciding whether to fight me on this.
Finally, she sighs. “Fine. But I’m getting the next one.”
“The next one?”
“Yeah. After the gala. When we debrief.”
“We’re debriefing?”
“Obviously. We’ll need to discuss what worked, what didn’t, and how convincing we were.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “You really have thought of everything.”
“That’s what the notes are for.”
“Right. The notes.”
I leave cash on the table, and we both stand, gathering our things.
As we walk toward the door, Harper glances up at me. “Thanks. For doing this. I know it’s weird.”
“It’s definitely weird.”
“But you’re still doing it.”
“I said I would.”
“I know. But still. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I whisper.
We step outside; the March air hits us immediately. Harper pulls her cardigan tighter, and I resist the urge to offer her my jacket because that feels like crossing a line we haven’t established yet.
“See you Friday!” She turns toward her car. “Don’t be late.”
“I’m never late.”
“Good,” she smiles. “See you later, Micah.”
“See you, Harper.”
I watch her walk away, glitter still catching the light in her hair, and I pull out my phone.
One new text from Gray.
Gray
How’d it go?
I stare at the message for a long moment.
Micah
I have no idea what I just agreed to.
Gray
That good, huh?
Micah
That complicated.
Gray
Welcome to Harper Mitchell.
I slide my phone back into my pocket and head to my truck, already replaying the entire lunch in my head.
The way she smiled. The way she threw that fry. The way she remembered my suit from the wedding.
And the realization, settling heavy in my chest, that I’m not playing dumb at all.
I know exactly what I’m doing.
I’m falling for her.
And I have no idea how to stop.