Epilogue Harper #2
“You’re next!” My boyfriend points at me from the shallow end, water dripping from his body.
I raise my hands in surrender.
“Oh no. No, no, no—I’m good right here.”
My heart sinks.
I glance down at the brand-new one-piece swimsuit I ordered online; I had no intention of getting wet today, but there is no way I’m getting out of this dry.
Phoebe lets out an excited squeal, clinging to her brother’s back as they both inch closer to the tiled edge. Closer to me.
“You’re not safe there, Harper.” Easton wears a wolflike grin.
I scream when he lunges forward at the shallow end of the pool, one arm outstretched like he’s going to grab me. I’m laughing so hard I can’t get out of his reach fast enough.
“Get her, Easton!” Phoebe cheers from the water, loving every second of this. “Get her!”
Traitor!
I dance around the patio chairs to put some distance between us.
But it’s no use.
Easton’s faster. Bigger. Stronger, and he knows it.
He has me cornered, my back to the pool—and with one quick move, he grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the edge.
“No! No! Easton, stop!” I shout in protest, laughing as my bare feet lose purchase on the wet concrete.
“I gave you a chance,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “You could’ve just come in willingly.”
“Easton Westermann, you put me down!”
He has me by the waist.
“You’re gonna regret this!” I threaten.
“I don’t think so, babe.” He kisses my nose. “You’re so cute when you’re pissed off.”
And before I can protest again, he lifts me off my feet in one smooth motion, scooping me up.
I let out a high-pitched squeal as he hoists me into the air, carrying me like I weigh nothing.
“Put me down this instant!” I demand, half laughing, half serious as I flail in his arms, trying to hold on to my dignity—or at least my dry swimsuit.
“You’re going in.”
I let out one last scream as he jumps into the water.
The cool splash hits me instantly, soaking my skin as I go under. For a split second, the world is nothing but bubbles and swirling water, and when I resurface, I gasp for air. Wipe the water from my face.
Easton is laughing beside me, his wet hair slicked back, while Phoebe claps her hands, pleased with herself and her part in having me tossed into the pool. Little sneak!
I push the hair off my face, glaring at them half-heartedly.
“You are both in so much trouble.”
“Are we?” He grins, reaching for me beneath the water. “It was worth it.”
He always says that!
Phoebe splashes us, laughing as she swims circles around her brother.
“Told you you’d get wet!”
“I can’t believe you let him drag me in,” I say to her, playing the part of being affronted. She is eating it up!
Easton shrugs his big shoulders, slipping his hand around my waist as we float.
“It’s not like you had a choice.”
“I always have a choice.” I tilt my chin defiantly.
Despite the surprise dunking, I am having the best time. There’s something about being here with Easton and Phoebe and the playful teasing that makes me so…
So…
Happy.
Is it normal to feel this way? Ugh.
I wonder if he feels it, too.
My newly proclaimed boyfriend gives me a sidelong glance. “You mad?”
I pretend to consider it for a moment, then shake my head.
“Nah. I’ll get you back, though. Just wait.”
Phoebe splashes nearby, oblivious to the moment that’s building between us. I know he’s going to kiss me, and I know that when he does, she’s going to throw a fit.
She’s circling like a “shark,” giggling and shooting us little glances every now and then, but doesn’t seem to notice how close we’ve drifted toward one another.
“You know,” Easton says softly, his voice lower now, “there’s a way I could make it up to you.”
“Oh yeah?” I whisper. “How?”
His face is inches from mine.
My heart pounds in my chest as he closes the last baby bit of distance, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, tentative kiss.
One peck is all it takes for his sister to shout, “Ew! Gross!” and begin splashing us with cold water—as if we weren’t wet enough already!
“Are you guys seriously kissing in the pool? Don’t embarrass me!” she shrieks. “That’s so gross!”
Easton grins, unfazed. “What? You’ve seen us kiss before.”
“Not in the pool! Not. In. The. Pool,” Phoebe protests, scrunching her nose. “Do it again and I’ll tell Mom.”
She is too cute.
“Sorry, Phoebs. He couldn’t help himself. I’m irresistible.”
Phoebe crosses her arms, bobbing in the water. “Well, stop it. You’re ruining the pool for me.”
Easton ruffles his sister’s wet hair.
“All right, all right. We’ll stop—just for you.”
“Good,” Phoebe says with a satisfied nod, though she’s still eyeing us suspiciously.
But before she can swim away from him, Easton flashes me a look over her head, mischief written all over his face. Without saying a word, he grabs Phoebe by the waist, lifting her slightly out of the water.
“What are you doing?” she yelps.
“Oh, just this.” I swim over and plant a loud, exaggerated kiss on her cheek. “Mwah!”
“Noooo!” she screams, half laughing, half trying to escape. “Ew!”
Easton leans in on the other side and kisses her other cheek.
“Aww, we love you, little Phoebe,” he teases.
Phoebe bursts into uncontrollable giggles, squirming as we both shower her with kisses.
“I know you love me! Duh!” she laughs. Then, in typical Phoebe fashion, she makes things uncomfortable. “But do you love your girlllfriend?”
The question takes me by surprise—shock—and I feel a rush of nerves as Easton glances at me over Phoebe’s head.
Our eyes meet.
He nods. “Yeah. I do. I love my girlfriend.”
Seriously. Holy crap.
My breath catches. This is the first time someone other than my family or Macy has said they loved me, and I’m rooted to my spot in the pool next to Phoebe, who’s caught up in giggles.
“Good,” I say, my heart in my throat. “Because I love my boyfriend.”
Phoebe the drama queen bobs up and down, water up to her neck.
“You guys are so mushy.”
Easton laughs, pulling her into a quick hug and kissing the top of her head. “That’s what love is, Phoebs. Mushy.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t fight the hug, eventually wriggling free to splash us both again.
We float there, the three of us, in this perfect moment.
Well.
Not completely perfect; I didn’t wanted to get wet, and now, I look like a drowned rat. My hair is plastered to my head, and I can feel the water dripping down my face.
“You know,” I say quietly, “a wise woman once said, ‘If you like someone, let them go. If they come back to you…take them to prom.’ ”
“Was that wise woman you?”
I laugh. “Maybe.”
“Well, good thing I came back to you, huh?”
It sure is.
“Lucky you,” I boldly say.
“Yeah—lucky me,” he echoes.
Life is good.