Chapter 39 Easton
Easton
Never in my life have I done anything romantic.
Not once.
Not even accidentally.
Yet here I am, standing in my backyard, about ask a girl to slow dance with me like one of those dudes in a movie. The kicker? This entire moment isn’t even my idea. My mother orchestrated the entire thing after I called her in a panic from the bathroom stall at school.
I called begging her for help, spilling out the short, messy version of the disaster; she listened, then launched into full-on crisis management mode.
Mom has been training her whole life for this exact moment.
And then it happens.
The soft instrumental fades, replaced by the unmistakable opening notes of a slow song by a well-known boy band. The kind of song you belt out every lyric to in the shower but will deny knowing if it comes on the radio.
I push my chair back and offer my hand. “Dance with me?”
“Such a gentleman,” Harper says, letting me pull her to her feet. She smiles happily as my hand settles low on her waist. “Careful where you put your hands, Casanova. Your parents are watching.”
I freeze before glancing toward the house. Sure enough, Mom is peeking out from behind the kitchen curtains, face half hidden, when a second later, Dad’s head appears next to hers. And as if I didn’t already feel like we were in a fishbowl, a third tiny head bobs into view.
I groan, dropping my forehead to Harper’s shoulder. “I’m going to pretend I don’t see them.”
Harper chuckles, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, come on. It’s sweet. They’re invested.”
“In what? My humiliation?”
“No, in us.” She leans back just enough to meet my eyes, her grin flirty. “It’s cute.”
“So cute,” I reply sarcastically, rolling my eyes. My thumb lightly brushes her waist, matching the rhythm of the music. She fits so perfectly in my arms that it hits me—we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.
“You are the seriously…the best.” Harper sighs blissfully, no mistaking her dreamy gaze. “If this is how you always plan on apologizing, you’re forgiven. Over and over and over again.”
I can’t keep the goofy look off my damn face. “Noted.”
But before either of us can gush any more, movement in the shadows catches my eye. Laughter ripples through the air, followed by the sound of familiar voices growing closer. Branches snap. Leaves crunch.
Someone curses.
“What the he—” Harper pulls back slightly, her gaze darting toward the commotion. She turns, eyes widening as our group of friends steps into the glow of twinkling lights, Macy the first to wave.
Her enthusiasm brightens up the backyard as she drags Marcus along, who looks half exasperated already. Gabe follows. Then Deshaun appears with his date, Kierra; they stroll hand in hand, grinning like they’re walking into the grandest event of the year.
Harper looks up at me, mouth open in surprise. “Did you…?”
I shrug, playing it cool. “I had help.”
Macy wastes no time rushing over, dropping Marcus’s hand to spin dramatically in place. “Do you love this? Were you surprised? Oh my god, when you left the gym I was dying—I couldn’t wait to get here.”
Harper stares at me, her gaze softening even as she shakes her head in disbelief. “You planned this?”
“Guilty,” I admit, squeezing her hand. “But only because I thought I would have to grovel.” Kiss her ass. Plead. Beg.
The usual.
“And to prove you’re the swooniest prom date in existence,” Macy adds, winking at me. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
The boy band song fades and another slow song drifts through the air; Deshaun immediately takes Kierra’s hand, twirling her before pulling her close. “All right, people, let’s get at least a few dances in before going back to that gym.”
Gabe tries to reach for Macy, poaching Marcus’s date. “Hell no you don’t,” Marcus laughs, pulling her back. “Get your own date.”
Harper turns back to me, her arms sliding easily around my waist, pulling me closer. Her eyes catch the light, sparkling with something so warm, so genuine, that it makes my chest tighten.
Like, how did I get this lucky?
“You thought of everything tonight, didn’t you?” she murmurs, fingernails toying lightly with the hair at the nape of my neck.
I shrug, playing it cool even though her touch sends a shiver down my spine. “Mostly my mom and sister, but—you deserve it.”
She shakes her head. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
I rest my forehead against hers, letting the moment stretch.
“I’d do it a hundred times over.”
“A hundred?” Her lips curve, breath mingling with mine in the small space between us. “You always say the right thing.”
“Not always. Mostly I say stupid shit.” I chuckle, pulling her closer. The warmth of her body against mine is electric, and I feel parts of me tingling that shouldn’t be tingling. Horrible timing. “But I’m trying.”
Her gaze locks onto mine, her fingers drifting from my nape to my jaw, her touch impossibly soft. Light. Charged. Harper studies me, head tilted as her lips part—and before I can think about making the first move, she goes up on her tiptoes.
She tastes sweet, warm tongue and lips.
My hands move by instinct, one bracing at the small of her back, the other settling at her hip, anchoring her to me as the kiss deepens.
Her body molds perfectly to mine as my heart pounds in rhythm to the faint music still playing in the background, because she feels so fucking good and I want nothing more than to—
“A-hem.”
The sound slices through the moment like a bucket of ice water. Harper pulls back at the sound of my best friend’s voice, her breath catching as we both turn toward the source of the interruption.
Standing there with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face is Marcus.
“Hate to be that guy,” he drawls, clearly enjoying himself, “but we’ve got a prom to get to!”