37. Harrison
37
HARRISON
D aisy and I get up early to surf since it’ll be our only chance today. I resent the premiere tonight already—it’s a solid three hours I’m going to have to sit multiple seats away from her, and if I know Daisy, she’ll spend each of those hours tormenting me in any way she can.
She gives me a smile when we get back to the house that tells me exactly where her head is at.
“You sure you don’t want me to shower with you?” she asks. “You know, to take the edge off before the movie?”
Just the suggestion of it has me hard. Or maybe it’s the sight of her unzipping her wetsuit. The two things run together, honestly. “This is a terrible idea. You know that, right?”
“Getting you off before work?”
I adjust myself. “That’s generally an amazing idea except when I’m going to be late,” I reply, throwing my wetsuit over my board and heading for the outdoor shower. “No. I meant tonight. We’re tempting fate.”
I try to shut the shower door, and she groans. “Seriously, Harrison? You’re going to make me stand outside? I’m freezing.”
I grin as I step out of my trunks. She’s impossible in the best sort of way. “You can come in, but leave the bikini on and keep your hands to yourself. I’ve got a client meeting in forty minutes.”
Her eyes gleam. She’s wrestling with the desire to torture me, and I’m both relieved and chagrined when she opts not to.
“How are we tempting fate?” she asks as I roughly shampoo my hair.
“You’re going to be standing there looking luscious while everyone asks what we’ve been up to all summer, Daisy. So I’m going to be struggling to answer, and you can’t lie for shit.”
“I’m an amazing liar.”
I open one eye to raise a brow at her.
“I’m going to practice lying all day,” she amends. “I’ll be incredibly good at it by tonight.”
I laugh as I rinse my hair and spin her so she’s fully in the hot water as I head to the door. “Okay, Daisy, lie to me. Let the practice begin.”
“I don’t want to suck your dick right now,” she says from beneath her lashes.
I wince as I reach for a towel. “That sure seemed like a lie.”
“Of course it was a lie,” she says with a grin. “I always want to suck your dick.”
I’m tense all day. Yes, I’m worried we’re going to be obvious. I’m worried some guy is going to hit on her and I’ll wind up throwing a punch in the theater, or that she’ll whisper something in my ear about sucking my dick in front of her mom and uncle. Mostly, though, I just want her to myself. I don’t want her smiles given to anyone but me. I want to slide my palm against hers and brush my lips over her neck, and all those things are off-limits for too much of our goddamn night.
I gather my shit at six-thirty to leave for the theater. I’m on my way out and passing Baker’s office when he does that finger thing, the one that means “wait,” as if I’m his fucking intern.
I stand, fuming while he chats to someone on the phone. Why the hell am I still at this job? I denied it before, but Daisy was right. I don’t have to work. I could never work another day in my life, and as long as I didn’t start blowing all my money on drugs or exotic travel, I’d be just fine.
I’m here because I didn’t want to be my parents, and I also didn’t want to be some trust-fund asshole burning money while he jumped from one thing to the next. But is it making me happy? Did choosing the responsible career and marrying the “right” girl bequeath any of the benefits I was certain they would?
I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life because of the most irresponsible, unethical thing I’ve ever done. So fuck Baker, and fuck doing the right thing. Fuck anything that keeps me from Daisy.
Baker watches, bug-eyed, as I walk out the door.
I drive fast downtown. It’s nearly showtime when I get to the theater and I’m not even inside yet but Daisy already exerts a pull, as if we are magnetized.
I walk in, scanning the packed lobby for her and only her. She stands at the far end of the concession stand a few feet from her mom, talking to friends and wearing a tiny, flirty little dress so sheer I could shred it without even trying, so short that it offers blissfully easy access to the panties I hope she’s wearing. I won’t be laying a finger on her when her mom and uncle are here, but if she’s not wearing panties, I guarantee she’ll let me know and the next few hours will be agony.
“Look who finally showed up!” Liam shouts, walking over and giving me a one-armed hug with Emerson’s hand clasped in his. Across the room, Daisy’s gaze meets mine, and she smiles .
“Yeah, place looks great,” I say, my heart sinking as Caleb and Lucie approach.
“Long time, no see,” Caleb says, raising a brow. I guess he could have said something worse, but the attitude still leaves something to be desired.
“When was the last time the three of us were even in the same room?” Liam asks.
I sigh. “It’s been a very long time.” Entirely my fault.
My phone chimes and Daisy grins at me. I shouldn’t try to read the message which is undoubtedly from her and undoubtedly trouble with Liam two feet from me.
I do it anyway.
Daisy
I’m not wearing panties.
My eyes fall closed. I knew she’d do this. I both love and hate that she has. More love than hate.
I’m going to punish you for this when we get home.
Daisy
I’m already wet at the thought.
“Ellis was really impressed with your work,” Emerson says. “If you’re ever looking to switch jobs, let me know. I’m almost positive you could do most of your work from home.”
I picture it—working from home with Daisy there, constantly undressing and dancing around the kitchen and asking me if I want to surf. It would be my ultimate fantasy and, simultaneously, absolute disaster—I wouldn’t get an ounce of work done. But why the hell is my first thought of Daisy when the topic isn’t related to her in any way? When she’ll be gone at the end of the next month? Why is it that my whole fucking world didn’t include her at all in May and now revolves around her? And right on the heels of Baker’s bullshit, I should be jumping at this. It’s the old, ever-responsible voice in my head that keeps me silent, a voice that says you can’t quit again. What if the new job doesn’t work out? Are you going to crawl back to Baker a second time?
“Thanks,” I tell her. “I’m not sure I’m—”
Daisy’s gaze hardens suddenly, and I lose my train of thought.
It’s a look I’ve never seen on her face before—suspicious, full of hatred, and I follow it to find Scott at the other end of the room, looking at her.
Scott has never especially bothered me—he was simply Bridget’s worthless husband, a bad choice she made that we were all forced to put up with. Now, though, he’s someone who’s hurt Daisy, someone who’s been worse to her and Bridget than they ever let on.
Daisy’s lip curls as she turns her back, continuing to talk to the girls on the other side of her.
“Scott showed up?” I ask, jaw clenched.
Liam rolls his eyes. “You think that cheap fucking asshole was ever going to turn down a free ticket? Showed up and invited two friends.”
I’m telling myself to ignore Scott until he starts heading in Daisy’s direction. He’s not starting shit with her on my fucking watch.
“Excuse me,” I say, pushing past everyone and jumping over the red velvet rope to follow him.
“Sir, you can’t cut the line,” says some officious kid in a red vest.
“Try to stop me,” I reply, moving faster.
I reach Daisy and Bridget just after Scott does. He extends a hand, and I accept reluctantly. “Harrison!” he says heartily. “How long’s it been?”
“It’s been a while,” I reply between my teeth .
“I was just telling Daisy that we’ve missed seeing her this summer. We have no idea if she’s sleeping on the street.” He turns her way—she is already bristling. “And I bet you haven’t been to mass once since school ended, have you? Or gone to confession? You know your mom lights a candle for you every Sunday.”
It’s a role he’s played for years—upstanding guy doing his best versus wild, thoughtless stepdaughter. I fucking hate that I ever thought it was genuine.
“Some people are good humans all on their own, Scott,” I grit out. “I’ve never seen Daisy do anything that warrants confessing. Maybe you’re just a little guiltier than she is.”
There’s a flash of anger on his face before he laughs and hits my shoulder as if I was joking. “If you believe that, you haven’t been keeping up.”
How am I only seeing now that this is what he’s always done? He implies that there’s more going on, and we’re all too polite to call him on it and thoughtless enough to sort of believe him.
Now I know better. And I’m done letting him get away with it.
“Tell me what I haven’t kept up with, Scott,” I say.
He shoots what is no doubt supposed to be a fond smile at Daisy, still playing the role of kind-but-concerned stepfather. “We don’t need to get into all that here.”
I catch Daisy’s eye, willing her to stand up for herself, to call him out. To say, “ No, Scott, let’s go ahead and get into it .”
Instead, she looks away. “I’m going to save us seats,” she tells Bridget.
“I’ll go with you,” Bridget replies, squeezing Daisy’s arm.
The last thing I want is to be left with Scott, but here we are. “Look, I didn’t want to embarrass Daisy,” Scott says once they’ve walked away, though that’s exactly what he just tried to do, “but you know…she took off this summer and won’t even tell us where she’s staying. Bridget’s worried sick.”
I straighten. Scott thinks I’m the reasonable member of Liam’s friend group. He could use a reminder that I’ve still got five inches on him…and I’m not always reasonable. “Maybe Bridget shouldn’t have convinced her to come home under false pretenses, then. My understanding is she came out here because you guys had separated.”
“Look, dude, I’m not sure why you’re choosing to believe Daisy over me, but for all we know she’s spent the summer living out of a car like her dad used to. Let’s just say…the apple appears to have not fallen too far from the crazy tree, if you know what I mean.”
I’ve got him by the collar so fast that I’m not sure which of us is more surprised by it. “I know exactly what you mean, asshole, so let me explain something to you: I’m not your friend, I think you’re a lying piece of shit, and if I ever hear you imply that again I’ll make you really fucking sorry.”
Caleb’s got a hand clapped on my shoulder before Scott can even reply. “Everything okay here, bro?”
I hold Scott’s gaze for one long moment before I let him go with a shove. “Yeah, I think we’re good.”
“Asshole,” Scott says, fixing his collar with a scowl as he enters the theater.
“What the fuck was that?” Liam demands, approaching with wide eyes. “I thought I was the only one who hated Scott.”
I turn toward him, my jaw grinding. “He was implying, heavily, that Daisy is like her dad.”
Liam shrugs. “I think he’s just worried because they don’t know where she’s staying, and she’s also not graduating on time.”
My laughter is an angry bark. This is why Daisy says nothing—because all the people in her orbit can easily make a case of her failings, the same way I did when she first arrived. Daisy, you ate sand. Daisy, you crashed a golf cart and cut off all your hair. Daisy, you’re graduating late. Stupid, meaningless bullshit that keeps getting thrown in her face. “What the fuck , Liam? You didn’t graduate at all.”
His eyes narrow. “Yeah, I’m aware. I dropped out to help raise my niece, who had both me and her mother on her side, so it’s unclear why you’re suddenly involving yourself.”
I know I need to dial it back. I’m too invested for a guy who theoretically hasn’t seen Daisy in years. I just can’t do it. “If you were actually on her side,” I reply, “you wouldn’t allow anyone to imply she’s mentally ill just because she’s fucking graduating late, and you sure as fuck wouldn’t be the one doing it.”
Liam releases a quiet laugh. “Dude, I don’t know what the hell’s going on with you, but I haven’t seen you this close to throwing a punch since we were in fifth grade. That girl in LA has changed you into…me.”
By force, I release my clenched fists. I really wanted to hit Scott…and I really want to hit Liam too. I never understood why my friends would get so emotional when they were dating someone—why Luke would throw a punch in the lineup over Juliet, why Caleb beat the living hell out of Lucie’s ex-husband, consequences be damned.
Now I get it. I don’t simply want to destroy anyone who gets in her way…I want to destroy anyone who isn’t in her corner.
And that’s not how I should feel about a fling.
It isn’t even how I felt about my wife.