Chapter Twenty Eight
Not for the first time, I question why the fuck I am still sitting here. I may talk the talk about thriving in places steeped in despair, but hospitals make my skin crawl.
Even this so-called private clinic, chosen after I refused to waste my afternoon in a public one, reeks of death.
Over-priced, pitiful death. Fancy artwork on sterile walls and plush carpets cannot mask the staleness of last wishes.
Behind every door lies a rich body rotting slowly, dragging out the inevitable in designer pajamas. Wow, I’m gloomy today.
It has nothing to do with Harper crying in my arms, hissing words she knew would cut me the deepest. Or that when she passed out in my car, my heart rate rivaled the beat of a train hurtling down its tracks.
I carried her into the reception and barked at a nearby nurse to get her a bed immediately.
Just as Harper was stirring, I stepped out to give her some privacy.
The doctor has interrupted my brooding a few times, asking for more details I don’t have. All I’ve got is the hollering Clayton gave me through my Porsche’s Bluetooth speakers, something about a prank I supposedly took too far.
Trust me, if I wanted to prank Harper, it wouldn’t be shutting her in the dark and jamming a harmful device against her head.
It would be removing one of my cock piercings and convincing her it was lost inside her, so I’ll have to fish it out with my tongue.
Clayton did not care for this response. He ordered me to update him on where I took her, as if we’re texty little bitch friends. I don’t think so somehow.
Time bleeds slowly on the face of my Rolex.
I chew my lip ring, craving a cigarette, but I remain here, sprawled across a mustard yellow sofa meant for three.
Arms spread along the back, legs wide, I claim it as mine so no one dares to join me.
Seriously, how freaking long does it take to check an implant?
With the money this will cost me, they could have ripped hers out and built her brand-new ones from scratch by now.
My only amusement came when Malibu Barbie wobbled out of the elevator, immediately realizing this wasn’t the cosmetic level, and tried to retreat.
Her heel caught, and she folded on herself as the doors closed.
I can confirm I heard the snap of bone. If I had seen it pierce her tanned flesh, my day would have been made.
I have tolerated enough ‘aspiring models’ swanning around my father’s house to build a lasting hatred for the plastic and fake. That’s where the two rules for ending up in my bed came from. No STDs and no silicone.
Nurses and receptionists click past on heels designed more for catwalks than clinics.
They eye me like I am the anomaly, even though they are the ones dressing up an impending morgue with coffee machines.
If one more of them asks me if I want an icepack for where Harper nailed my jaw, I’m going to rip the vending machine off the wall.
I stand and crack my knuckles, pacing. Not because I’m worried or anything. Because I’m bored. It’s not like Harper Addams is the only person alive who has me tethered to the hallway outside her door like this. Except she is. Fuck.
I hate how she intrigues me. How she came into my life when I didn’t need the distraction, teaching me what real desire is.
For a kid who had everything he could have ever wanted, even though I never asked for any of it, I’ve come to understand that possessions are pointless if they do not come with a chase.
Finally, just before I consider jumping out of the nearest window to avoid these internal therapy sessions, Harper emerges.
I’m stretched across a table that once displayed cupcakes for some charity farce, licking frosting from my thumb when she appears.
Her pink hair is tousled, her expression as bored as I feel.
Missing her hoodie, she rolls her shoulders in a t-shirt that states, ‘Deaf-inatley Too Good For You’.
I snort, resolutely agreeing as I swing my legs beneath the table.
“Are we done here?” I ask the doctor accompanying her.
“Almost,” Harper answers for him, lifting her hair to reveal a pair of new receivers.
They’re clunky and industrial looking. I’ll be sure to order bespoke, slimline versions and mail these stone-age monstrosities back as soon as we get back home.
I mean my house. My frat house, where I’ll be returning to alone once Harper is safely back in her dorm.
Harper nudges my head aside, picking up a cupcake as she sits and somehow ends up with my head in her lap. I’m not sure how that happened.
“We just have to wait for the X-rays and a report to be written up,” she mumbles, taking a delicate bite. I groan, dragging my palm down my face. That will be at least another hour they’ll want to charge me for. “You didn’t have to stay, you know.”
Irritation slices through me. Didn’t have to stay?
I’ve read several leaflets on cervical cancer, re-evaluated my life choices and eaten my body weight in sugar but it’s okay, I didn’t have to stay.
I roll my head against her thigh and glance up at her, half tempted to swipe the cake from her hand just for the reaction.
“If I didn’t want to stay, I wouldn’t be here.” At Harper’s quirked brow, I look away before she mistakes my words for sentiment. “I’m mad at you. I stayed to tell you that.”
“You’re mad at me?” Her hand freezes halfway to her mouth, lips parted and far too kissable for our current predicament.
“That’s rich.” I sit upright, removing the cake from her hand before I become too jealous and tossing it into a trash can.
The only thing allowed in Harper’s mouth should be me. Oh right, I’m supposed to be angry.
“You doubted me,” I clench my jaw and turn away.
I don’t know how far her historical receivers can hear, but maybe it’s best this one is kept to myself anyway.
“Something terrible happened, and you assumed I was to blame. I don’t give a shit when others do that, but not you.
You’re supposed to know I only hurt you when it’s for my pleasure. ”
A nurse who was walking past stumbles, and it serves her right for eavesdropping. Harper’s hand slides over my shoulder, the heat of her body pressing against my back. I twist my head to the side, finding her right there, nose nudging my jaw.
“You suffocate me with your presence, rarely giving me an inch of space. Yet when something terrible happens, you were the only person missing. What was I supposed to think?” This is a valid point that I’ve also been considering.
Someone tried to set me up, and I have a PI already on the case to find out who.
By the time I leave here, I should have their identity sitting in my inbox and a new life to destroy.
Until then, I won’t be letting Harper out of my sight.
“You could have just, I don’t know, trusted me.
” I roll my eyes, more at myself. My mouth is moving without my brain doing any of the work.
Do I even want her to trust me? When someone trusts you, they come to rely on you.
I’ll reflect on that later. “I just needed a smoke, that’s all.
I thought your loyal foot soldier could look after you for five minutes without a war breaking out. ”
Harper’s mouth goes on a journey, her lips against my neck.
At the same time, her hands slip beneath my t-shirt, spreading across my lower back.
If this is her apology for doubting me, maybe I wouldn’t mind her doubting me more often.
The tightness in my muscles loosens and a lengthy exhale leaves me.
“You know what the moral of this is, right?” Harper asks, nudging me again with her nose. She’s like a cat seeking affection.
“That we need to hack Clayton’s student record and have him dismissed?
” I reply, not an ounce of sarcasm in my tone.
I’ve already decided it’s the only course of action for his colossal fuck up this afternoon, and having Harper on board means I don’t have to sneak around about it.
She laughs softly, dousing that plan. Looks like I’m sneaking around after all.
“That you need to stop smoking.” This time, it’s me that laughs. A thunderous sound that shakes the table.
“I have many vices, and I’m not giving up a single one. Not even for you, Babygirl.”
Harper pouts but clearly expected as much. I turn back towards her, enjoying the press of her body and the weight of her attention far too much.
“Okay, well, maybe you should lay off Clay then. You two have a lot in common, you know.”
“No, we don't,” I roll my eyes, all the way leaning closer. Harper smells like all the lotions and ointments they’ve used on her, but she isn’t any less appealing to my poisoned brain. Even the smell of the hospital isn’t enough to deter me from wanting to be close to her.
“Yes, you really do. You both go to extreme lengths to cover up your sadness.” Jerking back, I give Harper a crazed, wide-eyed expression.
“I'm not sad.” This time, she rolls her eyes.
“Okay fine, you're downright miserable.” My sour mood returns. What a way to destroy any hopes of lightening the atmosphere around here. The nurse’s station was about to get a show.
Despite giving her the cold shoulder, Harper continues to stroke and attend to me like we’re lovers.
Like we’re more than the bully and the deaf girl who have no business wasting their time on each other.
I’ve almost started to relax into her touch again, until her hand travels upwards to where another one of my vices is located, and my throat suddenly constricts.
“What…” Harper tilts her head, her fingers running over the circular bumps. I jolt upright, trying to shove her hands out of my t-shirt but it’s too late. She’s already found them. “What are these? They weren’t there the other week.”