Chapter 10
Harper
It’s Thursday afternoon, and my kindergarteners are finally walking in a somewhat straight line toward the cafeteria for dismissal.
I say “somewhat” because Mia is currently spinning in circles while holding Jackson’s hand, and Lucas has decided that hopping on one foot is the superior method of transportation.
“Mia, feet on the ground, please,” I call out, trying not to laugh.
She stops spinning long enough to give me a dizzy grin before resuming her pirouette.
By the time I’ve dropped them off with their parents and made it back to my classroom, I’m exhausted. But also weirdly energized.
Because tomorrow night is the gala.
Tomorrow night, I’ll walk into that ballroom on Micah’s arm, in my emerald dress, and show Collin exactly what he’s missing.
I’m tidying up the reading corner—picking up scattered board books and re-fluffing the bean bags—when I hear a knock on my doorframe.
“Hey, stranger.”
I look up to see Anna leaning against the doorway, her arms full of construction paper and what looks like the stapler I definitely lent her three weeks ago.
“Hey!” I straighten, brushing glitter off my hands. “Is that my stapler?”
“Maybe.” She grins, walking in and setting everything on my desk. “In my defense, you have the good stapler. Mine jams every five seconds.”
“Uh-huh. Likely story.”
She laughs, then tilts her head, studying me. “Okay, what’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been glowing all day. Like, genuinely smiley. And you keep checking your phone.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “I am not.”
“You absolutely are.” She perches on the edge of my desk, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So spill. What’s happening?”
I try to play it cool, reorganizing the pencil jar that doesn’t need reorganizing. “Nothing. Just... excited for the weekend.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
I laugh despite myself, setting down the pencil jar. “Fine. Maybe I’m in a good mood.”
“Because...?” she drags out the word, clearly not letting this go.
I bite my lip, then glance toward the door to make sure no one’s listening. “Okay, but you can’t tell anyone.”
Anna leans forward, delighted. “Oh my gosh, this is good. What is it?”
“The gala’s tomorrow night.”
“Right, I know. We’re all going. What about it?”
I take a breath, then admit, “I have a date.”
Anna’s jaw actually drops. “What?! Who?!”
“His name’s Micah.” The name feels strange and right all at once on my tongue. “He works with kids. Super patient. Really sweet.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Anna waves her hands like she’s trying to catch up. “Back up. When did this happen? How long have you been seeing him?”
And here’s where I should probably tell the truth—that it’s fake, that we’re just pretending, that this whole thing is an elaborate scheme to win back my ex.
But instead, I hear myself say, “A few weeks now.”
Anna gasps. “A few weeks?! And you didn’t tell me?!”
“I didn’t want to jinx it.” The lie comes easier than it should. “We’ve been taking it slow. He’s... he’s really great, actually.”
“How did you meet?”
“Through mutual friends.” That part’s true, at least. “He’s got this calm, steady vibe. Like, nothing rattles him. And he’s got the best smile—kind of dorky but in this adorable way. With these dimples that—”
I stop myself.
Anna’s grinning now, leaning forward. “Dimples? Oh, you’ve got it bad.”
“I do not have it bad.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m not—” I touch my cheeks, which are definitely warm. “It’s just hot in here.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” She’s practically bouncing now. “This is amazing! I’m so happy for you. What does he do?”
“He runs the children’s ministry at my church.” Also true.
“A church guy. I love that for you.”
I grin, unable to help myself. “Yeah, he’s... he’s pretty great.”
“And he’s going to the gala with you tomorrow?”
“Yep!”
Anna squeals and grabs my hands. “Harper, this is perfect. You’re going to have the best time. And Collin’s going to lose his mind when he sees you with someone else.”
My stomach flips at that, equal parts excitement and guilt.
Before I can respond, a voice from the doorway makes us both freeze.
“Hey, Harper. Anna.”
Collin.
He’s standing there in his usual work attire—dress shirt, tie slightly loosened, that focused expression he always wears by the end of the day.
Anna and I both straighten, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of how giddy we probably look—two teachers giggling in a classroom on a Thursday afternoon.
“Oh, hey, Collin!” Anna says brightly.
“Hey.” He glances between us, something unreadable in his expression. “Just wanted to drop off the updated schedule for next week’s assembly.” He sets a flyer on my desk. “Make sure your class is ready by 9:15.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
There’s a beat of silence.
He shifts his weight, like he wants to say something else, then just nods. “Alright. Have a good weekend.”
“You too,” I manage.
He turns and disappears down the hallway, his footsteps fading.
Anna waits exactly three seconds before turning to me with wide eyes. “Okay, that was awkward.”
“Was it?”
“Harper. The tension in here was suffocating.” She lowers her voice. “Does he know? About your date tomorrow?”
“No. Why would he?”
“I don’t know. I just thought maybe...” She trails off, then shakes her head. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter.”
I fidget with the assembly schedule, not meeting her eyes. “Do you know if he’s bringing anyone? To the gala?”
Anna pauses, considering. “I don’t know, actually. I haven’t heard anything.” Then she grins, squeezing my shoulder. “But it doesn’t matter, because you have a date.”
“Right.” I force a smile. “I do.”
“With the dimple guy.”
“With the dimple guy,” I echo, and despite everything, I feel the tension in my shoulders release slightly.
Anna checks her phone. “Okay, I really need to go. But seriously—I can’t wait for tomorrow!”
“Yeah, I’m so excited.”
She grabs her construction paper and my stapler, waving as she heads out. “See you tomorrow night!”
Once she’s gone, I sink into my desk chair, grab my phone and open the group chat with Ivy and Olivia.
Harper
Need you both to come over no later than 3pm tomorrow to help me get ready for the gala.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Ivy
Obviously.
Olivia
I’ll be there!
I smile, pocketing my phone.
Tomorrow night, everything changes.
I stare at the ceiling of my apartment for what feels like a very long time.
The dress is hanging on the back of my closet door, and I made the mistake of leaving the curtains open, so the emerald fabric keeps catching the light every time a car passes outside. Like it’s reminding me it’s there. Like it needs the attention.
I pull my blanket up and roll onto my side.
It’s fine. Everything is fine. I have a plan, and the plan is solid, and tomorrow night I’m going to walk into that ballroom looking like the best decision Collin Matthews ever let walk out of his life, and he’s going to feel it.
He’s going to see me on Micah’s arm and remember exactly what he gave up, and then…
And then what?
I roll onto my other side.
This is the part I keep skating over when I run through it in my head. Because there are two versions of the story I’ve been telling myself, and lately they’ve started to feel like they are fighting for the same ending.
Version one: Collin sees me. Collin remembers.
Collin realizes he made a mistake. We talk and we find our way back to what we had before things got complicated, and I spent two months pretending I wasn’t waiting for a text that wasn’t coming.
That version has a shape I recognize. It’s familiar in a way that comfortable things are familiar, even when comfortable and good aren’t exactly the same thing.
Version two is harder to look at directly.
Version two is just: jealousy. Making him watch. Making him feel a fraction of what I felt the night he broke up with me. Version two has nothing at the end except the satisfaction of being seen as something worth wanting, even if only for one night.
I’m not sure which version I actually believe in anymore.
I stare at the ceiling again.
The honest answer is that somewhere between planning this whole thing and sitting across from Micah at that sandwich place going over ground rules, the two versions got blurry.
I wanted Collin to see me happy, and then I started running my mouth to Anna about his dimples like someone who wasn’t talking about their fake boyfriend, and now I’m lying here at eleven-thirty on a Thursday night and I can’t tell if I’m nervous about seeing Collin tomorrow or nervous about something else entirely.
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes.
Don’t, I tell myself. Don’t make this complicated. You know what this is. You set the ground rules yourself.
Right.
Ground rules. Professional. Platonic. Temporary.
I reach for my phone out of habit, then put it back down before I can open anything. I don’t need to scroll myself into a spiral. I need to sleep.
Tomorrow I have to be on. Hair, makeup, the dress, the shoes that are going to destroy my feet by nine o’clock but look incredible so they’re worth it. I have to walk in like I belong there, like this is easy, like I’ve moved on.
I can do that.
The dress catches the light one more time.
I pull the blanket over my head.