10. Harper
Chapter 10
Harper
I’m in a daze as I race down the stairs, through the living room, and out the patio doors. Rain hits my face, but I’m barely aware of it. I’m forcing myself to only think about one thing—wine.
The bottle is cool in my hand, the wine glass smooth. I’m in such a hurry to fill my glass that I spill wine all over the mahogany bar. I grab a dishcloth and soak it up while I take some big gulps from the glass and will it to blank out my mind.
It’s what alcohol is best at. Erasing things you wish you hadn’t heard or seen. It’s probably the reason I never stopped drinking, even when I knew it would make me feel shitty the next day or knowing my mom might find out. I was willing to go through all of that...just for that blissful ignorance.
But I guess if it really worked, then I wouldn’t even remember needing alcohol in the first place.
I’m in no need to psychoanalyze this moment. I need to forget that I just saw Jude jerking off in his bedroom.
A shudder courses through me, and I swivel in my chair so that I’m facing the French doors. From here, I can see all the way to the doors leading into the house. I’d know if he came out looking for me.
Would he?
I’m horrified but intrigued at the same time. I’ve never seen him that angry before. That...intense. I’m starting to understand why he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He’s obviously a psychopath.
And I was flirting with him? What the hell is wrong with me?
I drain the rest of my wine glass and quickly pour myself another. Our parents will be home soon. When I’m done here, I’m going to text Mom and tell her I’m going to bed early. Then I’m locking myself in my room for the rest of the night.
It’ll work—I’ve done it before. She knows when I “go to bed early” that I want to be alone. To not disturb me. It’s our unspoken arrangement, always has been. It’s how I’ve stayed sane all these years, and it’s how she kept a roof over our heads. Of course, neither of us made it out unscathed...but it could have been worse.
I cradle my glass, swaying to a wordless tune as I try to put Jude out of my mind. But sure enough, the memory of him gripping his thick cock, arm muscles cording, and his lip caught in his teeth, flashes back into my mind.
I groan and slump onto the bar. This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I stagger when I slide off the stool, pause, and shove the cork back on the bottle of wine before emptying the second glass. Then I shove it up my floppy sweater and head back to the house.
Rain patters on my head, but the true storm hasn’t arrived yet.
I have a feeling it’s going to be epic.