Chapter 8 #2
I stand up on my tiptoes, getting rid of some of the height difference.
I’m about to lean in when the door flies open.
Tony appears, in a rush.
Harrison turns his head but doesn’t move. I all but dive behind him, using him as a human shield.
“Will you hand me a case of those beers, please?” Tony says, unfazed, pointing at some crates on the side.
Harrison steps away to grab one. The spot where his hand was is now aching for his touch.
Tony gives me an amused look. I cover my face with my hands. Total mortification.
I hear the door close, and I look up. Harrison’s staring at me, hands in his pockets, with the naughtiest smile I’ve ever seen. I shake my head at him.
“Not. A. Word,” I warn.
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“So, is this what you made me come here for?” I ask, pushing off the wall. The room’s small, but I try to keep as much distance from him as possible. “To spend the evening in a bar’s back room?”
“You seemed to be enjoying it just fine a minute ago.”
I jab a finger in his direction, scowling. I’m frustrated that he’s got the upper hand in this tug-of-war we’re playing.
“You, Mr. Harrison,” I growl, “are playing dirty.”
He laughs, easy and unapologetic.
“Come, love,” he says, motioning me closer. “Let me tell you a secret.”
I look at him suspiciously and stay put.
He rolls his eyes. “I won’t bite.”
I get close enough for him to lean down and whisper in my ear.
“There is absolutely nothing better than playing dirty.”
“I hate you,” I murmur.
“You’ll love me.”
It rolls off his tongue so naturally, like it’s already decided.
I open my mouth to fire back another bullet, but nothing comes out. Alarms blare in my head—I’m officially in freak-out mode.
What if he’s right?
I can’t fall in love again. Not yet. I’m not ready.
Especially not with him.
Fairytale love won’t end well for me. Am I digging my own grave by seeing him? Probably.
I need to go back home. I glance at the door, mentally measuring how long it would take me to run out of here and never come back.
“Don’t even think about it.” His brows knit together. “Why are you freaking out?”
“I can’t love you,” I blurt. “I’m not ready to do all that again.”
“I’m not asking you to,” he says, softly. “I’ll behave, I promise.”
He hesitates for a beat.
“But I can’t promise I won’t fall for you. Can you deal with that?”
He’s not joking. Not even a little bit. He’s asking because there are many possible outcomes in which that happens.
He’s laying every card out on the table. No games. He’s asking me to choose—run away or stay. He’s not afraid to give. Am I brave enough to receive?
“We’ve both been hurt enough,” I say, gesturing vaguely between us. “I don’t want this to end badly for either of us.”
“It won’t.” His voice is steady. “It’ll be okay.”
“Okay,” I answer.
His stern expression softens, and he breaks into a grin. And I can’t help it—I burst into laughter.
“Sorry,” I gasp. “It just hit me again how ridiculous this whole thing is.”
“What about it?”
“I know I act like you’re some regular guy I met at a bar, but let’s be honest. You’re Joshua fucking Harrison. Half the girls in the world would faint standing this close to you.”
He looks amused.
“Including my best friend,” I add, to drive the point home.
“And you,” he says, “are Julia Thomas. The girl who’s driving me absolutely mad.”
He straightens, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Now that that’s settled—can we go? I don’t know about you, but I need some food in my system.”
“How are we even going to make it out of here?”
He points behind him.
Another door.
I had been so focused on him I hadn’t even realized.
Outside, the air has turned cooler. The moon shines bright above us as we make our way into the street. The city’s busy. Music, laughter, loud conversations. I follow him.
The darkness of the night and his black cap seem to do a good job of keeping stares away.
We pass a bar, terrace full. People are already several drinks in.
A man amid a very heated discussion throws his arm out carelessly—straight into me.
My reflexes fail.
Harrison grabs my hand and pulls me away just in time.
The man keeps yelling, oblivious to the near collision.
“My savior,” I chuckle.
I don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t either, pulling us along through the crowds.
He looks down at me and flashes a grin. My knees buckle a little. I tighten my grip on his hand, grounding myself.
“Are you a bit more relaxed now?”
“A little,” I admit. “This has all been very... unexpected.” I pause. “Terrifying, but good.”
He stops, turning to face me. The air is filled with the hum of the nightlife activity. People walk around us without a second look. His eyes hide behind the shadow of his hat, still as bright as always.
“You’d be surprised,” he says, “how many terrifying things turn out to be extraordinary… if you let yourself experience them.”
And as we move down the street, I realize he’s right.
For nearly a year, I’ve been so busy making sure I didn’t step out of my comfort zone, my safe zone, that I’ve missed out on 99% of what was happening around me. I’ve been too scared to take any risks. Too scared to meet new people, to put myself out there.
But somehow—on the other side of the world, in the most unexpected way—he’s pushing me to become myself again.
Trust me, he’s asking. Take the leap; it will be worth it.
And for some odd reason, I do.
Right now, hand in hand with him, there is no one else that I’d rather take a risk with.
Joshua Harrison is winning me over despite all my best efforts.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“If I told you,” he says with a wink, “then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”