Chapter 17 Dawson
Adrenaline from practice rushes through my veins as I head to the restaurant.
Harper can’t act as if nothing happened between us. I’m going to get an answer out of her one way or another, if it’s the last thing I do.
Nerves churn in my stomach at the thought.
“You really need to start showering between practice and your shifts,” Lindsey says without even looking up from the hostess stand.
I lift my arm to sniff in panic. “I did!”
Only then does she look up, taking in my wet hair. She frowns. “Huh. Weird. I could’ve sworn I smelled the rink on you still. But maybe it’s just haunting my dreams. You know, Out, damned spot and all that.”
I frown back. “Don’t mess with me today, Linds, I swear.”
“Oh?” She leans forward over the hostess stand, propping her arms on the edge. Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Does that have anything to do with the way you and Harper have been dancing around each other for the last few weeks?”
Weeks? No, no way. It’s only been a few days since I took Harper Braedon to that party and she became the one thing I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Hasn’t it?
Lindsey reaches out to pat my arm with a grin. “Don’t worry, Lukey, you smell just fine. She doesn’t have the same trauma around that synthetic, ozone-y smell of artificial ice. Or at least, she doesn’t yet.”
“Lindsey,” I plead through gritted teeth.
Her eyes soften. “Dawson. That girl hasn’t stopped looking at you since you walked through the door today. You almost made her trip over table ten. Just ask her whatever you want to ask her, okay?”
I do my level best not to stare across the restaurant at Harper taking orders. Voice soft enough to deny it later, I say, “What if she says no?”
“Then you took a shot on one of the coolest girls I’ve ever known.” Lindsey shrugs. “Harper’s a badass. It’s not easy to find someone who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to be herself. If I were you, I’d ask her out too. There’s only one way to get an answer.”
I square my shoulders and nod. Lindsey’s right. The only way to score is to take a shot.
With Lindsey’s eyes on me, I weave through the restaurant toward Harper. On the way I pass some people from my English class in the booths by the windows, and one of the girls waves to me with a smile. “Hey, you coming to Skate Night Friday?”
My lips curl upward of their own accord. “Maybe. Are you?”
She starts chattering about how of course she’s coming and it’s the highlight of the year and she has her outfit all picked out already, but I can barely smile and nod along. My mind’s occupied with Harper. If all goes well, I’ll be going with her.
When I finally cross the restaurant to Harper, who’s organizing tickets behind the counter, her eyes are already locked on mine.
She has a weird look on her face, her lips pressed together and furrows between her brows.
She still looks really pretty, though. Her hair’s pulled back a little from her face, curlier than usual.
Only she can make the puke-green Lakeside polo look good.
While I’m staring, her expression darkens further, and she marches over to me. Her chin tilted up in that defiant, spunky way, she says, “Can we talk?”
As if I haven’t been trying to talk to her for days. What is she so riled up about?
Lindsey makes eye contact with me from the hostess stand, raising her eyebrows. I shrug, and she nods at the diner. An I got this kind of gesture.
So I let Harper tug me into the back, where we had that conversation about staying out of each other’s way.
Yeah, that went well. I can’t help eyeing the walk-in fridge just down the hall.
Harper crosses her arms over her chest. There’s not much space back here, and I can’t help following her every movement. The air between us is thick with tension. “So,” she says, “are you going to take that girl to Skate Night?”
I blink. Hard. Somehow, that was the last thing I expected her to say. “Harper,” I say slowly. Confused. “I asked you at the fair.”
She sputters, turning red. “I know, but— I—”
My smile’s getting away from me. That girl was flirting with me—I was so focused on Harper, I didn’t even notice—and Harper hated it. She’s been thinking about Skate Night.
Hope flares in my chest. I have a chance.
“Harper,” I repeat. I could say her name all day, but I should do the right thing and put her out of her misery.
“I’m not taking her to Skate Night. It’s just that the girl I really want to take didn’t give me an answer.
Honestly, I’m starting to wonder if she’s even interested, or if it’s all in my head. ”
Her eyes widen, her mouth opening and closing a few times like she’s trying to make a decision.
I hold my breath as the sounds of the diner fade into the distance, the only thing that matters the look on Harper’s face as she searches my expression for something.
If I knew what it was, I’d give it to her in an instant.
The tether between us tightens, pulling us closer and closer until I’m certain it’s going to snap, and I’m afraid to move—
And then Harper pushes herself up onto her toes and presses her lips to mine.
I’m in shock for a moment. Her lips are as soft as I imagined, impossibly pillowy. I’m surrounded by the sweet coconut scent of her. My mind’s looping, incredulous: Harper Braedon just kissed me.
She pulls back after a split second, as if realizing I’m frozen. I can already feel the panic in her, can see her about to retreat again. I can’t stand that.
So I wrap an arm loosely around her waist and follow her lips forward, pressing my mouth to hers again.
She makes a little sound that drives me crazy.
My other hand cups her face, tracing lightly against her jaw, and her lips open just a little.
Our mouths slot together perfectly, like they were made for each other.
I pull her closer, my whole body on fire with her hips pressed against mine, my hand moving to the nape of her neck to tangle in her hair. It’s even softer than I imagined.
Her hands wrap around my neck, making me shiver, bringing her flush against me.
I’m overwhelmed by the heat of her touch on my skin, the soft curve of her waist in my grip.
Kissing Harper’s even better than I imagined—and I’ve been doing a lot of imagining.
I take a step forward, backing Harper into the wall, and her mouth falls open with a needy little gasp, and—
A crash of dishes in the sink brings me back to my senses.
We break apart, both realizing in the same moment that we’re in the back of my parents’ restaurant, dishwashers doing their business right around the corner. I’m short of breath.
I find myself wishing we could get locked in the freezer again. At least there a guy can get some privacy.
But Harper’s smiling. I can’t help staring at the curve of her bottom lip. All I want to do is kiss her all afternoon. She’s flushed, and she looks even prettier with that color in her cheeks. When she shakily tucks her hair behind her ear, it just makes me want to mess it up.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“For what?” In this moment, I can’t imagine anything she should feel bad about.
“For Marissa, for one. She was so rude to you at Small Business Santa. It’s so stupid, too. Just an old grudge.” She bites her lip, eyes flicking across my face searchingly.
I frown. “What grudge?”
“You don’t remember? She asked you out freshman year. And then you took Hannah to homecoming a few days later. It really hurt her feelings—like, were you laughing behind her back? Was she not good enough for you? You couldn’t just be honest?”
It’s like I’ve been walloped over the head. That’s why Harper and Marissa hate me? Because they thought I was some asshole who lies to girls in service of his own ego?
So much suddenly makes sense.
“I’m sorry,” I say, not breaking eye contact.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I was trying to focus on my game.
I have this rule about not dating during the season.
I only went with Hannah as a favor to Alex, because she knew the deal.
He wanted to go with her friend, and thought he’d have a better chance if we proposed a double date. ”
She frowns as the puzzle pieces rearrange themselves in her head. “You just went on that date for Alex?”
I nod. “That heart of his is fragile. You should’ve seen him moping around after Max before they got together—his whole day was either made or destroyed based on whether he smiled at him. Alex is a real soft boy.”
Harper raises an eyebrow. “And you’re not?”
I hold her gaze. “Not usually.”
Her cheeks flood with color.
Watching her try to regain her composure is a much-needed boost. This girl has done a really good job of pretending she wouldn’t care if I got run over tomorrow, so sue me if I’ll take any sign that she might care a little more than she lets on.
She clears her throat. “What about all the other girls since then?”
“What other girls?” I can’t help smiling. “The ones who flirt with me? I can’t help that, Harper. I mean…” I gesture at myself in a look at me move, smirking so she knows I’m joking.
She snorts. “I always figured you thought you were too good for… normal people.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Normal people? Harper. You’re so far from normal.
” Her eyes widen, pupils big and dark, and the air is so electric between us that, for a second, I think we’re about to have a repeat of that kiss.
I drop my voice, adding, “Nothing was ever serious. I was trying to stay focused. Until I absolutely couldn’t anymore. ”
“Oh.” The syllable is garbled; Harper blushes furiously. “Well, that… makes sense.”
I try not to smile too broadly. It’s stupidly fun to fluster the girl who’s typically so confident and unbothered. “Was there something else you’re sorry for?”
She fidgets, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. I can’t help reaching out for her waist to steady her, to give her some comfort. Her breath catches and she looks up at me, eyes bright and intent.
“I’m sorry for freaking out and ghosting you. I’ve been thinking a lot about last weekend, and… well, I misjudged you.”
Now I’m really grinning. “Oh, you did?”
“Don’t gloat.” She scowls, and even that is pretty. “But yeah. You’re not as selfish and egotistical as I thought.”
“Just a little selfish and egotistical.”
“Dawson! I’m trying to apologize!”
I zip my lips theatrically.
“Anyway, it freaked me out. I’m not the kind of girl who goes to Skate Night with hockey players, you know? That’s out of my comfort zone. I kind of convinced myself you were playing a joke on me or something.”
“Harper.” I draw her closer to me, bringing our faces inches apart again. “I couldn’t be more serious,” I whisper.
Her breath is shuddery. There’s nothing I want more than to pull her into me and kiss her again. But we still have something important to settle.
“Do you want to be the kind of girl who goes to Skate Night with hockey players?”
“Not really,” she murmurs, and I almost jerk back. But then she adds, “Just one particular hockey player.”
And then I can’t resist the way her face is tilted up to me, not defiantly this time, but open and vulnerable.
I bend my head to hers, our matching grins brushing lightly at first, then more firmly, more urgently.
My heart thuds in my chest when she parts her lips slightly, and dear Lord, this girl could make me forget I’m making out in the back of my parents’ restaurant.
Something about it feels so right—like after the last few days, she already knows me a lot better than some people I’ve called brothers for years.
Like I want to be around her passion and drive during every spare hour of every day—even with the tension between us, the times she thinks I’m an idiot, the freedom she feels to call me out.
Maybe because of all those things.
Harper’s the one who has to pull away, breathing heavily. When I reach for her again, she braces a hand against my chest. “Customers are waiting,” she says.
I throw my head back and groan. “It’s always work with you.”
But we’re both smiling. She tilts her head jauntily. “You have to get on my calendar, I guess.”
“Paperless. I remember.”
The color in her cheeks deepens at the reminder of the last time we were alone at work.
I can’t resist leaning in to whisper, “I wanted to kiss you then, too.”
I’m close enough to hear her breath catch. “You need to control yourself when your family is on the other side of that wall.” Her voice is breathy, like she’s having trouble getting a real lungful of air.
“Fine.” I draw back far enough that the coconut scent of her is slightly less overpowering, the instinctive twitching in my fingers slightly easier to master. “Friday at seven?”
Her smile grows. “It’s a date.”
When we emerge, Lindsey raises her eyebrows so high I’m surprised they don’t fly right off her face. I mouth a thank you her way, and she returns it with a very clear you owe me.
I don’t care if she keeps flaking on the diner for Sara, if I have to keep her secrets from my parents, if she asks me to pick up every single shift until I graduate. Things are finally turning around.
I have a date with Harper on Friday.