Chapter 31 Harper #2
“I, uh—have to go to the bathroom,” My best friend mumbles, scrambling to stand and grabbing her cell. Macy looks at me apologetically before making a beeline for the door. “Be right back.”
My mom steps aside to let her pass, then closes the door gently, trapping me in the room with her.
She raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable as she begins, “Do you want to explain why you were crying when you got home from school? Or why you’ve been hiding up here for the past few hours?”
I swallow hard, heart pounding in my throat. “Mom, I—”
“I love that you have Macy to tell your secrets to.” She cuts me off, not giving me the me chance to explain. “But I’m your mother. If something is hurting you, I want you to know you can trust me. Does this have to do with the boy who’s been coming over to work on prom decorations with you?”
“Easton,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“His name is Easton,” I say quietly, staring at my hands. “And there’s nothing going on between us except prom committee.”
Mom raises her brows, clearly not buying my lie. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and start again. “We’re not a couple or anything. He’s my friend; that’s it.”
She purses her lips, unconvinced. “Maybe not,” she says carefully. “But that’s not really the point, is it?”
I frown, crossing my arms defiantly. “What do you mean? What is the point?”
She sighs, her gaze softening as she watches me. “The point is, I know what it looks like when you care about someone. And I think you know it, too.”
My stomach tightens, but before I can argue, she lowers her voice.
“These walls are thin, you know.” Her tone is soft, but there’s weight behind it. “So I hear things I probably shouldn’t.”
My breath catches.
She gives me a pointed look before continuing. “And all I want to say is…guys don’t hold all the cards. You have power to make choices, too.”
I force myself to nod, fingers clenching the edge of the bedspread.
“I know.”
Mom studies me for a long moment, her brow furrowed—I know she doesn’t entirely believe me, but she shouldn’t worry. I know my own mind and I know what I’m worth. And in that second, I decide: I am sending Easton a note.
“You know you can come to me for anything. Even if you think I won’t understand.” Her voice softens further, almost hesitant. “I know things aren’t great with Dad and me right now, but we’re both always here for you, Harp.”
I lift my face toward the ceiling to blink back the tears pooling in my eyes and dab them away.
Ugh, why did she go and bring up the drama between her and Dad? It’s like she’s determined to yank on every loose thread in my already fraying life!
Dang it!
Before I can fully pull myself together, the door squeaks open again, this time with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. Macy pops her head around the edge of the doorframe, exaggeratedly cautious, like a kid sneaking back into the house after curfew.
“Is it safe?” she stage-whispers, eyes darting between me and my mom like she’s assessing the damage. “Nobody’s crying, right?”
“No one is crying,” Mom confirms, though there’s an edge to her voice that tells my friend I know you’ve been eavesdropping. She hardly looks amused, but there is nothing she can do about Macy’s sudden intrusion.
“Cool, cool.” Macy slides back into my room with more snacks in hand. “Nibbles, anyone? Or, like, an emotional support pretzel? I brought the whole bag.”
She holds up the pretzel bag.
Mom hesitates, debating whether to push me further or make her exit. No sense in having a serious conversation with Macy as an audience…
“We’ll pick this up later.” She shoots me a pointed look before stepping into the hall and pulling the door closed behind her.
The second it clicks shut, Macy practically leaps on me for details. “Okay, how bad was it? Scale of one to you’re grounded until you leave for college.”
I resist the urge to bury my face in my hands. “Why do you always make everything a joke?”
“Because it’s my job to keep things entertaining,” she says brightly. “Now be honest. How pissed is she?”
“Not pissed. Just a few bits of wisdom about love and life,” I mumble, reaching for a pretzel. I pop it in my mouth and chew. “She said I can talk to her about anything—but you know how that goes.”
“I do know how that goes,” Macy says, her tone dripping with sarcasm, because she knows how my mother operates. “Tell me all your deepest secrets so I can passive-aggressively use them against you later.”
I laugh despite myself, tossing a pretzel at her. “Stop being mean. She’s trying.”
My best friend rolls her eyes. “Fine. But you know I’m right.”
The mood in the room shifts.
A pang of guilt for how much I’ve been dumping on Macy tonight hits me. My best friend is always here for me, ready with a joke or a bag of snacks to cheer me up, or to listen to my deep, dark secrets. It hits me that I haven’t asked her anything about herself lately.
I AM THE WORST.
“God, I am so sorry. All this talk about how horrid I’ve been. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”
“Not gonna argue with that,” Macy quips, grinning as she tosses a pretzel into the air and catches it in her mouth.
I swat at her leg with a pillow. “Okay, rude. Seriously, though. I feel like I’ve made everything about me. Tell me what your prom plans are, pretty please. Distract me from my own tragic life for five minutes.”
Macy laughs, reaching out to touch my hand. “Harper, it’s fine. You’ve been going through a lot.”
“I’m sick and tired of talking about myself. I’m literally giving myself empathy fatigue.” She laughs, and the knot of tension I feel inside my rib cage relaxes a fraction. “Are you still doing group dinner?”
Macy stretches her legs out and gives me a small smile.
“Yup. Sticking to the plan for dinner. The seafood place? You should still come, Harper. We’ve got space for everyone—it won’t matter if you don’t have a date. Holly and Delilah don’t, and Gabe is coming stag, too.”
My shoulders fall and she gives me an encouraging nudge.
“Harper Lindsay Conrad, you’re part of the group. Just because things got complicated with Easton doesn’t mean you can’t come. It’s your prom, too.”
“Got complicated? Be real; things got messy.”
“Okay—things are a mess. So what?” Macy shrugs like it’s no big deal.
Easy for her to say! She’s not the one who coerced a classmate into being her prom date and then, whoops, developed actual feelings for him.
Oh god.
When I put it that way, I sound unhinged.
“The last thing I want is to be in the same room as Easton and Maddie freaking Miller.” I continue to buzzkill the shit out of this subject. “I’ll take all the fun out of things with my crappy attitude.”
Macy—bless her heart—laughs at me.
“You have to go. You’ve been looking forward to this forever. You had your dress first out of anyone in our group, joined that stupid decorating committee first—you’re going.”
She’s not wrong.
I have been planning for this for ages, and I shouldn’t let one guy ruin it. Still. The idea of showing up without a date now that I’ve known what it’s like to almost have one?
Blah!
I simply cannot bear it.
“Anyway,” Macy adds, “you’ve got your hair appointment—and you’re going to grab cute coffee on your way there, bring croissants, and look stunning. You don’t need a date to do that.”
I sigh. “True…”
Macy rolls her eyes at my reluctance. I can feel her patience cracking.
“Harper, you are one of the strongest people I know. You don’t need anyone to have an amazing time. Trust me, once we’re all there, you’ll forget this drama.”
Forget the drama I myself created? Not likely.
However. She’s not wrong about the fact I have been so wrapped up in Easton I’ve forgotten what this prom night is really about: celebrating with friends, feeling confident, living in the moment—and that gorgeous dress hanging on the back of my bedroom door.
I turn and gaze at it, admiring how the light catches the sequins and makes it sparkle.
“Imagine what that will look like under a disco ball.” Macy pokes me. “Huh? Huh?”
I giggle. “So sparkly.”
“Way sparklier than whatever travesty Maddie Miller is going to wear.”
That’s a fact.
“Look,” Macy tells me in a more serious tone. “I’m sure you’ve been beating yourself up. I know you—I know you carry guilt. Let it go. Keep your appointments, come to dinner—and show up like you’re the damn main event! Girl, we do not need men to make our night epic.”
A flicker of excitement tingles in my stomach.
“I’ll go.” Slowly, I nod. “I’m sticking to the plan, but let me think about dinner.”
The hurt is too raw.
She understands, shoving me onto my back and shouting, “That’s my girl!”
“Oh my god—get off me!” I laugh, trying to push her off, but she’s already doubled over, giggling so hard she nearly falls off the bed.
“Never!” she declares dramatically, finally rolling off me and flopping onto her side, her laughter still bubbling. “You’re stuck with me. Now let’s figure out how to unfuck your love life, shall we?”