Chapter 25 Harper
Harper
Are you mad at me?
Lying flat on my back, I stare at the text from Easton, homework forgotten the moment his name popped up on my screen.
Things were going so well before Maddie showed up. We were joking around, teasing each other—flirting, even—and though we were accidentally glued together, it had been kind of fun.
Leave it to me to imagine that Easton and I were moving toward something more than just being…whatever we are. Friends? People who make out in their cars or their mom’s shed when no one’s watching?
But then Maddie walked in.
Her presence turned everything sour in an instant—for me, anyway.
I cannot forget the way she looked at me, as if I were a loser peasant with no business speaking to Easton—WHO, BY THE WAY, she barely speaks to or even acknowledges at school! Why now?
Why today?!
I type out a response to his text and then delete it.
Type again.
Delete.
“Ugh. Say something, Harper.”
My thoughts are a tangled mess of frustration and embarrassment. Why does Maddie matter? She doesn’t even like Easton. Not really—not the way I like him.
That’s exactly why you had to stop kissing him.
If I had any doubts about my decision, they’re gone now. The problem is, Easton is a guy who doesn’t realize Maddie is probably flirting ’cause she’s bored. She likes a challenge. Maybe she even wants to date down and he’s just another prop in her carefully curated life.
Am I mad?
No.
Not at him.
I’m mad at myself for falling into like with someone unavailable to like in the first place.
I text him back.
Me: Maybe I’m a little mad. But not at you.
It takes a moment before the bubbles appear again. I stare at the screen, my heart doing that stupid thing where it races whenever I see or hear his name. Stupid, traitorous heart…
Easton: Could have fooled me.
Okay, so he’s not entirely clueless.
Granted, I was acting like a B in the gym after you-know-who left, but it’s not like I could help it. I was frazzled! Shook! Jealous!
Easton: Who are you mad at, then?
I bite my lip, debating whether to tell him the truth or change the subject, like it’s nothing. But it doesn’t feel like nothing. On the other hand, I don’t want to involve him in girl drama. Guys hate that crap; it’s so different from guy drama.
Me: Maddie.
There! It’s out.
Let him figure out what that one word means!
Easton: Why?
Briefly I remind myself, Harper, he is a guy. Guys don’t understand jealously and stuff. He’s basically a baby with no understanding of how the world works and doesn’t get that Maddie is only speaking to him because it’s a challenge now that he’s giving me attention.
She sees me as a challenge. I feel it in my bones.
Could that be the truth?
I ponder this as I figure out a way to respond to him.
Me: She rubs me the wrong way. All high and mighty—she was looking at me like I was BOTHERING HER when she was the one interrupting ME.
I don’t know what I expect from him; maybe I hope he’ll say something like Why do you care what she thinks? Her opinion of you doesn’t matter. I don’t even care what she does.
But all I get is She wasn’t looking at you like that.
LIKE HELL SHE WASN’T! She was practically looking at me sideways.
The phone buzzes again.
Easton: You are I are just friends. You know that, right?
I roll my eyes; of course I know that. He is forever reminding me.
Me: I am well aware.
My heart pounds as I hit send, and I toss my phone onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
I never thought I would be one of those girls who obsess over some guy’s behavior, analyze every word he says, every look. But here I am, doing exactly that!
The Maddie situation is getting under my skin, and worse, I’m letting it!
When my phone lights up again I sit up, annoyed that this is still on my mind. This friendship/relationship with Easton was a fluke! An accident! He was a means to an end as a prom date, and I’m the one who went and made it personal! Not him.
I’m the problem. Me.
Easton: Look, can I be honest?
I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the screen. Is this where he admits that I’m right and Maddie is overrated? That he’s realized he never had a crush on her in the first place?
Yeah, yeah, dream on, Harper.
Me: I’m listening.
There’s a long pause before his response comes through.
Easton: If it seems like I’ve been wound up it’s coz I haven’t been sleeping the last few nights.
I pause. His answer is unexpected, and more than that, I haven’t noticed if he’s been acting wound up. To me, he’s been acting like his normal self.
Me: Not sleeping? Why?
Easton: I keep thinking about the Parker Lane bullshit. I’ve been so stressed out about it. I keep thinking any fucking second I’ll get caught. Having Callahan stop us in the hallway did not help.
I frown at my phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
We’ve been over this; the Parker Lane situation is behind us. Callahan isn’t going to pop out of the bushes and arrest him in the middle of the night. Still. The thought of Easton lying awake, replaying everything over and over, gnaws at me because I care about him.
Guys are so much more sensitive than I realized.
Me: You’re not going to get caught.
Easton: Just because I haven’t already doesn’t mean it won’t happen. Callahan was staring deep into my soul.
Me: Callahan looks at everyone like that. It’s his literal job.
Easton: Yeah, but I DID steal the damn thing and you helped!
I wince.
He’s not wrong.
Guilt twists in my stomach, heavy and relentless. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own worries lately that I didn’t realize how much this has been eating at him. Of course he can’t stop thinking about it!
Me: I know you’re worried. But seriously, it’s over. No one who knows is going to rat you out. You’ve gotta stop overthinking it.
Easton: Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who physically took it.
Me: Okay, but I was there. I’m just as guilty. Remember the flagpole???? You need to stop beating yourself up about this. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.
Easton: MY PARENTS ARE GOING TO KILL ME.
Wow. Clearly his paranoia has ramped up a notch since Callahan gave us the mini cross-examination.
Me: If you were going to get in trouble it would have happened by now.
Easton: Maybe they’re waiting…
So ominous.
Me: It was a harmless prank, Easton. Parker Lane has their mascot back, safe and sound. No one has mentioned our names. So what if Callahan stopped at our lockers? He doesn’t know anything.
And sure, there was that announcement over the intercom promising to find the culprit(s) and threatening dire consequences once they did.
Luckily everyone involved has kept their mouths shut.
Shocking, I know—but considering it was the class officers’ idea, guess it’s not all that surprising. If Easton goes down, they all go down.
I roll onto my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows. All the times he’s casually mentioned getting in trouble I never really picked up on how much this was messing with his head.
Selfish, selfish, selfish of me!
Easton: No, nothing happened. I just hate this feeling. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder waiting for Mr. Callahan to bust me.
I wonder if he’s feeling the same way thinking about consequences as I do thinking about the fact that I’m basically blackmailing him to go to a dance with me.
Blackmail.
I hate that word. It’s so…
Negative.
Me: You’re overanalyzing again. They’ll never figure out it was you.
Easton: You don’t know that.
He’s right. I don’t know that. Still, I’m determined to be positive and upbeat!
Me: I do! I mean, who’s going to suspect you? You’re the person LEAST likely to get in trouble and the last person they’d think would steal a mascot.
Seriously. No one would suspect him.
The silence lingers for a moment after his last message. Perhaps a tad too long? I can’t shake the feeling there’s still something bothering him. My intuition tingles.
He’s never usually this wound up.
I decide to push, just a little.
Me: Is that the only thing bothering you? Just the PLP Rhino?
There’s another long pause; for a second I wonder if I’ve crossed a line. Maybe I should’ve just left things alone after he told me about his mascot anxiety?
Easton: Honestly? No.
I sit up straighter, my heart picking up speed.
Me: What else is going on?
The three dots appear, then disappear. Appear. Disappear. I picture him in his bedroom on his bed the same way I am, phone in hand, thinking about how to explain whatever’s weighing him down.
Easton: My parents.
I frown, my thumb hovering over the screen. His parents? I met his mom and think she’s wonderful. I assume his dad is, too. His mom is so easygoing. Way more friendly than my mom, who hasn’t been home a single time he’s been here.
Me: What about them?
Easton: I dunno. They’re just always…on my ass.
I blink at the message.
Me: Your parents are always on your ass???
I press send and wait.
When his next message pops up, I can practically feel the frustration coming through the screen.
Easton: YES.
Me: But your mom seems so cool.
Easton: THAT’S WHAT EVERYONE SAYS!
Me: Shit. I didn’t mean to get you all worked up. You’re shouting LOL.
Easton: See, here’s the thing: My parents act like everything is cool, as if they were soooo laid-back. But they’re not. They constantly push me. It’s like I have to be the best at everything. My dad is the fucking worst.
I feel a twinge of guilt. I don’t have that problem with my parents. The only thing they expect of me is decent grades—not even perfect scores. Good grades. Stay out of trouble. Be kind and respectful, blah blah blah.
I’m sure Easton gets good grades, right? Athletes have to maintain a certain GPA—plus, he’s popular. He has that whole everyone’s best friend vibe. Now that I think about it, though, maybe those things aren’t as effortless as they seem.
Me: What do they want you to be the best at?