Chapter 20 Dawson
Harper’s face gets weird as she looks at her phone.
I’m still coming down from the feeling of her straddling me, all that soft hair falling around my face, her hands braced on my chest—but even through my current haze, my skin prickles in unease.
I’m not used to seeing that much regret on a girl’s face after kissing her.
She’s frowning, her shoulders suddenly tense, hunched over her phone. The darkness around the car presses heavily at the windows.
I do my best to compose myself, even though all I want to do is grab her to kiss her again. Honestly, I have to adjust my pants a little. Harper in my lap was… a lot.
But something is obviously wrong, so this is not the time to be thinking about a repeat.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice raspy. I clear my throat.
“Um.” Harper looks up at me, biting her lip in that way that drives me crazy. Not the time, Dawson. “Marissa found out we were at Skate Night together.”
“Hamilton Lakes, most effective gossip machine in the Midwest. Especially when yours truly is involved,” I try to joke.
But the hurt blooms in my chest. Why is she acting like her friend finding out about us is a bad thing?
Is it about that whole homecoming situation freshman year still? “Why didn’t you tell her yourself?”
Harper looks away from me, out the window, and the pit in my stomach grows. “I knew Marissa was working on next week’s edition of the Herald tonight. I didn’t think I’d have to broach it with her yet.”
“Broach it?” I reel back. “You broach conversations with your parents about your curfew. With your coach, discussing the dude who’s late for practice every day and isn’t taking games seriously.
With a girl you’re going to break up with.
” I have to swallow past the growing lump in my throat. “You don’t broach good news.”
A few minutes ago, the car was warm and cozy. I’d just had the best first date of my life, skating with the girl I can’t stop thinking about, and it finally seemed like she was into me, too. I caught myself counting her smiles, and then I lost track because there were so many.
Now it’s hard to imagine Harper smiling again tonight, and the car is suddenly freezing cold. Is she serious?
“I’m sorry,” she says, running frustrated fingers through her hair. Like she’s trying to smooth away what we just did together. “I just didn’t want to make it this whole thing yet.”
“What do you mean, a whole thing? Like, you wanted to date me in secret?” Heat rises in my face, on my neck.
“Well, obviously not.” Harper huffs. “We just held hands in front of half the school. But I wasn’t quite ready to, you know, announce it to people.
Explain it. I was worried about what Marissa might think, okay?
Because of…” She waves an ambiguous, devastating hand.
“Everything. I wanted to be sure this would last, you know?”
The heat of my embarrassment burns so intensely it’s almost icy. Suddenly everything that happened tonight is cast in a different light. I’m used to girls wanting to date me for some kind of social clout or popularity. Not used to them wanting to keep me a secret because they’re ashamed of me.
Even the idea is ridiculous. But Harper’s hated me for a long time—over a miscommunication that’s not even my fault—and maybe that’s not as easy to get over as I thought.
Everything she’s said over the last few days—about having fun hanging out, about respecting the team and the game, understanding why we care so much—is drowned out by everything she’s said over the last few years.
Stuck-up. Self-centered. Selfish. Clinging to the best years of our lives before we’re washed up.
Maybe it only hits so hard because I worry that she’s right. That one day I’m going to wake up and realize all my talent’s gone, that I didn’t capitalize on it in time, and that I’m not worth anything without it.
Maybe it’s because I feel like everything I have, I need to earn. Deserve. Prove myself worthy of.
Maybe I was hoping whatever she saw in me was different from what everyone else did. That she’d be the one thing I didn’t have to earn first.
“Are you embarrassed of me?” I ask, mind whirling.
Her gaze flicks away from mine, a little furrow forming between her eyes.
Blood rushes in my ears, hot and humiliated, and my vision tunnels in until all I see is the expression on her face that confirms all my fears.
Maybe it’s the contrast between how on top of the world I felt a few minutes ago and the rapid, harrowing plummet back to Earth.
I just gave this girl my heart in my hands—I told her about my biggest insecurities, kissed her like I’ve never kissed anyone, was about to break all my rules for the chance to be with her—and she squeezed it to a bloody pulp right in front of me.
“I— No, that’s not it—” Harper stammers.
But she kept me a secret from her best friend. After everything I was willing to risk for her.
Maybe that’s why Noah’s face appears in my mind, sneering and dismissive. Why his words fall out of my mouth, thoughtless and cutting. “I’m sorry, but anyone would think that’s ridiculous. I’m practically doing you a favor by going out with you.”
Harper reels back.
“I’m sorry,” she says, ice in every syllable. “Doing me a favor?”
Beneath my hurt, I’m aware I’ve really put my foot in it. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I say through gritted teeth. “I just meant… that’s what people would think. If there’s anything to be embarrassed about—”
“It’s me,” she finishes, cheeks flaming and words clipped, already opening her door.
“Yeah, I get it, Dawson. For a minute, I fooled myself into thinking there was more to you, but I was right in the first place. You think you’re better than everyone because your coach has flattered your ego or whatever, and this school has happily played into it.
But I was just fine before you started brooding in my direction, okay?
I have lots to focus on this year without you.
More important things. I don’t need someone who’s so aware of his social status and how outmatched we are that he thinks dating me is a favor. ”
Time slows around me. My heart pounds in my ears in panic. Harper’s slipping right through my fingers, and I can see it happening. After all this time of carefully winning her over, I’ve ruined everything in one dumb conversation. Proved all her worst fears right.
“That’s not what I meant,” I say quietly, desperately. “I—”
But Harper’s shaking her head. “I need a minute,” she whispers. “I can’t think straight.”
I’ve done a lot of chasing after Harper this fall. Maybe you should take her at her word, a voice whispers in my ear. You don’t need someone who’s embarrassed of you. Let her be the one to fix things for once.
Even if this time maybe it’s not fixable. Maybe I don’t deserve her and that’s it. I fucked it up for good.
By the time I come back to my senses, Harper’s sliding out the door. She turns to stare at me, face unreadable. No sign that earlier tonight she’d been afraid to let go of my hand.
“I thought you were different from the rest of the team. But oh, I was so wrong.” Quieter, so quiet I can barely hear her, she whispers, “I hate being wrong.”
Then she slams the door in my face, and she’s marching up the front walk and away from me.