Chapter 19 Harlow
HARLOW
The next few days pass in a blur, like I’m moving through water that muffles everything except what my mind chooses to fixate on.
I go to class. Same seats. Same pens lined up neatly beside my notebook. I take notes in careful handwriting and answer a question once, and my voice doesn’t shake, and I feel a tiny spark of pride that I was able to do that.
I eat.
That part is still a negotiation, but it’s…simpler. That doesn’t mean it’s easy; it’s just less sharp around the edges. I anchor myself to small things: plain foods, familiar routines, sentences I repeat to myself like a mantra.
One thing at a time.
Kai watches me, but differently now. Not with that frantic vigilance that feels like a spotlight I can’t escape. He still notices everything—I don’t think he knows how not to—but there’s space in it. Effort. Like he’s trying to let me exist without turning my existence into a crisis.
It matters more than he knows.
And Grayson—
Grayson doesn’t push. He doesn’t show up outside my dorm. He doesn’t corner me into a conversation. He doesn’t turn what happened into something that needs a label.
He just…exists.
Sometimes I see him across campus with Weston and Asher—Weston talking with his whole body; Asher moving like calm is a superpower. Grayson is never the loudest one. He’s the one who notices. The one who listens. The one who seems anchored even when everything around him is chaos.
When our eyes meet from a distance, there’s a look there that feels almost private. Not a smile. Not a signal.
Just recognition.
Like, I see you. I remember. I’m still here.
It makes my chest ache in a way that feels dangerous and addictive all at once.
Friday evening, Weston intercepts me outside the library.
He doesn’t shout my name this time. Doesn’t announce himself like a parade. He just appears at my side, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, eyes bright—but his voice, miraculously, is softer.
“Harlow,” he says. “Question.”
I glance at him warily. “Why are you using your serious voice?”
He presses a hand to his chest. “Because this is a matter of great importance.”
A few feet behind him, Asher stands with his bag slung over one shoulder, watching like a human seatbelt. Steady. Present. The kind of calm that makes the world feel less likely to tip.
“What?” I say.
Weston grins. “We are doing movie night again, but this time at Mercer’s. Way less party, way more chill.”
My stomach flips before my brain can intervene.
“Who is ‘we’?” I ask carefully.
Weston counts on his fingers. “Me. Hale. Bennett. And your brother, obviously, because he lives there and would rather die than admit he enjoys fun.”
There it is.
Grayson.
Just hearing his name does something unhelpful to my pulse. It speeds up, and my stomach tightens, like my body recognizes it before my mind can catch up.
I hesitate long enough that Weston notices. His grin softens—not disappearing, just shifting into something more aware.
“Really, no pressure,” he says. “For real. You can say no.”
I glance at Asher.
He meets my gaze calmly. “It’ll be quiet.”
Weston lifts two fingers like a Boy Scout oath. “I will be quiet. I will be respectful. I will not yell ‘PCU BABYYYY’ indoors.”
Asher’s mouth twitches. “We’ll see.”
Quiet. Movie. Familiar people. Controlled environment.
And Grayson.
The thought sends a flutter straight through my chest, warm and sharp.
“Okay,” I say before I can overthink it. “I’ll come.”
Weston pumps a silent fist like he’s afraid to break the spell. Asher nods once. And just like that, something shifts. Not dramatically. Not loudly. But enough that my walk back to Kai’s apartment feels different.
Like I stepped closer to something without fully understanding what it was.
Staying with Kai the last few days has been the extra layer of comfort I need to get back on track, but the one downside is not being able to hide any of my feelings from him.
A small grin has taken over as I walk into the apartment, and Kai clocks it within seconds.
“You’re smiling,” he says from the kitchen, suspicious.
“I am not.”
“You are,” he insists. “That’s a smile.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t know my face.”
“I absolutely do,” he says, turning just enough to look at me. “Weston tell you about movie night?”
“Yes,” I say, grabbing a water out of the fridge. “He said the guys are all coming here this time.”
He studies me, weighing something. I can almost see the internal debate—his instinct to control wrestling with his effort to trust.
He pauses, then adds, quieter, “You good with that? I can always see if we can do it at the hockey house. Weston just likes to make the group smaller and crash here from time to time.”
The question catches me off guard.
“Yes,” I say. “I think so.”
Kai nods once, like that settles it—for now.
Movie night is nothing like my brain prepares for.
The lights are dim but not dark. Weston shows up with an aggressive amount of snacks and a blanket he declares “essential.” Asher arrives five minutes later with the energy of someone who has never once been late to anything in his life.
Grayson is sitting on the couch when I walk out of Kai’s room wearing a hoodie and sweats. His hair is slightly damp like he just took a shower, which would make sense since I didn’t really see him this afternoon. Kai said he didn’t expect him to be home much today.
He looks up when he hears the door, and his face changes instantly. A grin takes over his face, causing the slight dimple on his left cheek to pop, pulling a matching grin to my own face.
My stomach does that annoying flip thing again, and I take a seat at the far end of the couch at first, legs tucked beneath me, fingers worrying the edge of my sleeve.
Weston drops between us like a human barricade, while Asher claims the armchair. Kai hovers in the kitchen, pretending he’s not monitoring the entire room.
The debate over what to watch lasts longer than the actual selection. Weston calls everything “mid,” Asher tells him he’s insufferable, and finally Grayson throws out an option in a quiet voice, which ends up being the one we pick.
The movie starts, and I try to focus on the screen.
I really do.
But I’m hyperaware of everything else—the weight of the cushions, the way Grayson’s presence feels like a low note vibrating through my chest, and the fact that it’s getting harder and harder to pretend I’m not stealing glances his way repeatedly.
Halfway through, Weston knocks the popcorn bowl onto the floor and acts like a complete baby blaming Asher, who is still sitting across the room.
A snort slips out of me before I can stop it. Grayson’s head whips my way, and our eyes meet. Something passes between us—quick, electric.
Like a door opening another crack.
Heat blooms low in my stomach. I look away quickly, already feeling the blush spreading up my neck into my face.
Ten minutes later, Weston gets up to refill the popcorn. Asher follows him under the guise of “supervising.” Kai disappears down the hall to his room like he’s giving us space on purpose.
And suddenly—
It’s just me and Grayson. The space between us feels louder than the movie. I shift, adjusting the blanket like it’s the blanket’s fault that I’m suddenly aware of my own breathing.
Grayson glances down, then back up. “Cold?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He slides to the middle of the couch, invading my personal space, but all I can seem to think about is the fact that I want him closer.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
It’s not a demand.
It’s an offering.
I nod. “Yeah. I’m good, Gray.”
A small grin starts playing on his lips. “Gray, huh?”
“Mhmm,” I say, trying hard to keep my own grin from slipping.
We sit in silence, shoulders not touching, but close enough that I can feel his warmth. It’s excruciating, yet perfect. After a few minutes, Grayson adjusts his position. Not closer.
Just…different.
His forearm rests along the back of the couch now, as if he’s asking permission. My breath catches. I don’t move, and neither does he.
The movie keeps playing, my heart pounding loud enough that I’m sure Grayson can hear it. Finally, I lean toward him, just a fraction, but enough that my shoulder brushes his arm. The contact is feather-light, but Grayson stills completely, like he feels the same zing through his skin as I do.
I wait.
He doesn’t pull away. Instead, slowly, his arm lowers until it rests lightly behind my shoulders. Not pulling me in closer, not trapping me.
Just there.
My body reacts instantly. Heat floods my chest. My breath stutters. I don’t move away. I let myself exist in it. His thumb presses once, gentle and grounding, against my sleeve. My eyes burn. Because no one has ever touched me like this. Like I’m precious without being fragile.
I tilt my head and rest it against his shoulder. The world narrows. The movie fades to background noise, and I barely register the guys coming back, Asher taking his spot back in the chair, while Weston grabs some blankets and lies on the floor.
Grayson exhales like he’s been holding his breath. We don’t speak. We don’t need to.
This is romance.
Not fireworks. Not declarations.
Just the quiet choice to stay.
“Hey, Harlow?” Grayson says quietly a few minutes later.
I turn to look at him, “Yeah?”
“Do you think it would be okay if I got your number? You know, just in case you have a hard day and need someone to talk to.”
“I’d like that.” Smiling, mostly to myself, I rattle off my number as soon as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, adding my name to his contact list. “Thank you for asking, unlike some other people in this room.”
“You’re not whispering that quietly, lovebirds,” Weston says from his spot on the floor.
I can’t stop the giggle that comes out as I hide my face in Grayson’s shirt.
We watch the rest of the movie in silence, and when the credits roll, Kai reappears, scanning the room. His gaze lands on us instantly. On Grayson’s arm around my shoulders. On my head resting against him.
For one terrifying second that feels more like eternity, the world holds its breath.
But then Kai simply nods once and doesn’t push it, moving his attention to Weston and Asher instead.
“All right, boys, game tomorrow. Out you go,” he says. “Harlow, you staying?”
I nod slowly, untangling myself from Grayson with reluctance that feels physical.
“Yeah, if that’s okay,” I say. “Do you want me to take the couch this time?”
Kai shakes his head. “My room is already ready for you.”
As I walk past Grayson toward the hall, he murmurs, so softly only I can hear, “Goodnight.”
I glance up at him, and my heart feels like it stutters. His blue eyes are searching mine, and by the pleased look in them, he finds what he was hoping for.
“Goodnight,” I whisper back before heading down the hall.
And when I close the door behind me, my body finally gives in. I press my fingers to my lips, smiling hard. Because I want more.
And for the first time, the yearning doesn’t feel like something that will destroy me. It feels like something that might save me.