2. Harper
2
Nicole : You’re crazy. I don’t believe for one second that you’re going through with this.
I re-read the message I’d ignored from my new—and only—friend in town, Nicole, earlier. Not because I’d forgotten to respond. But because maybe if I’d read it again, I could realize how stupid this was and change my mind about coming.
What was I thinking?
And to make matters worse, I’d walked into the wrong freaking bathroom.
This is never going to work.
Troy looked about as ready to follow me in here as he would be to face his coach after today’s miserable game.
I should leave.
With doubt now on the surface, I closed my eyes and willed back the pain and humiliation from that horrendous night five years ago. Looking in the mirror, I adjusted my bra, stood taller, fixed my hair, puckered my lips, then shot a text back.
Harper: Damn right I am .
My phone buzzed a few seconds later and I held it up to my ear.
“I know this was ultimately my idea, but I think you should reconsider. I don’t feel right with you doing this without me close by.” Nicole’s strong Italian accent urged.
“Not now, Nic,” I whispered.
“Wait. Where are you? Are you in phase two?”
She must have heard the echo behind me and suspected I was in the bathroom. “Let’s talk later.” I hung up before she could talk sense into me.
I knew she meant well and was being overprotective, but I wasn’t about to turn back now. She wouldn’t understand what this was for me. She wasn’t the one humiliated in front of the entire senior class on the night I was supposed to give everything I had to Troy Hartman.
And I mean everything .
I dug into my pocketbook and reached for the piece of paper for strength. I read it again. Mumbling the words to myself.
It didn’t help. Instead, I found myself grateful he hadn’t followed me in here.
What was I even going to do if he had ?
With that thought, my fingers flew to my mouth. Where the softest set of lips had been less than ten minutes ago. He seemed so taken aback. And I felt his heart stop when I leaned into him. It was nothing like kissing Troy five years ago. He’d matured. He was sexier than I remembered. His voice huskier and rougher. It stirred something in me that had no place there. Not anymore.
No. Swooning. Harper.
Ready to hightail it out of there, I swiped my purse from the counter and flipped around, stopping dead when I found Troy standing by the door.
I couldn’t help but be painfully aware of how masculine he looked now. The planes of his handsome face so prominent in this light. My mouth opened slightly.
“On your way out?” He motioned forward. “Don’t let me stop you. I just need to use the urinal.”
“Go right ahead.” I pointed to one behind me. “Unless there’s something you’re ashamed of.”
Good one, Harp. Size shaming for the win.
A slow smile tipped his lips as he strode past me. “Hardly.”
My stomach flipped at the confidence in his voice. I stood frozen while he did his business behind me.
Feeling like this was now or never, I reached for the ‘out of order’ sign I’d scribbled on the car ride over, placed my chewed gum behind it and slapped it outside the door.
“Leaving so soon? Sorry I missed the window.” I turned at his amused voice.
I locked the door and flipped back around, “No. You just made it.”
Troy’s eyes moved from the lock on the door to me. And…had he just swallowed ?
“What are we celebrating?” Troy asked.
Me. I’m celebrating me.
“You, of course.”
He stepped away from me tentatively. “I don’t deserve a celebration.”
“Then how about a consolation prize?” I had no idea what I meant by that.
Clearly, neither did he. Troy looked past me. “You realize I can unlock that.”
I took a step toward him. Because it felt like the next thing to do in whatever the hell I was supposedly doing. It wasn’t as though I’d written a play-by-play on how this was going to go.
I just knew the outcome.
“You would have by now.” I kept my tone mellow and seductive even if my heart felt like it was going to pound right out of my chest.
Now what? Should I kiss him again?
Oh God, how I wanted to kiss him again.
Troy raised a brow.
“What?” I asked self-consciously.
He smirked. “You’re having an internal struggle, aren’t you?”
“No. What? How would you know?”
He let out a laugh. And as though he’d hoped not to, he cleared his throat and frowned. “Well, don’t stress too hard over it. I just came in here because I didn’t want to leave you hanging and to tell you this…can’t happen.”
My face fell. He was turning me down?
You’ve got to be kidding me.
As he moved to the door, my hand flew up almost as if a demon possessed me to keep the damn thing shut. “Wait.”
He inhaled deeply and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Think Harper. You’re about to blow your only shot in five years with Troy Hartman. Make a damn move.
Fine . Here’s to hoping you still have a heart.
I moved away from the door and raced into the large handicap stall, wiping my eyes. The tears were fake, but the smell in here could have easily made them very real.
“Okay, fine," I sobbed. "This was clearly a stupid idea. Just…go.”
He didn’t say anything, but I also hadn’t heard the door open.
Silence.
Then. A sigh. “I—I can’t leave you alone here,” he said from the other side of the stall.
“It should be easy for you to leave me wherever the hell you wanted,” I started. “Do you know I cried for weeks over you?” I sniffled and heard a heavy sigh in response.
“I—I know. I’m sorry.”
“Oh please. You don’t care. Clearly it hasn’t affected you one bit.”
“No. Harper.” His voice dropped. “It was the worst thing I’d ever…it shouldn’t have…” His head banged against the door to my locked stall. “You didn't deserve what I did.”
Huh. He actually sounded like he meant it.
I snapped myself out of it. Focus, girl. “It doesn’t matter. You probably think I’m pathetic.”
“I don’t know where you were going with this, but I never thought you were pathetic, Harper.”
There was silence while I pondered what to do next. To say next. Until…I didn’t have to.
“You—you were the most beautiful girl in East Brooklyn High. Since the day I saw you struggling with your locker on the first day of senior year. I know you carried all your books for the first week of school because you couldn’t get that damn thing open. And I wanted to offer to carry them for you.”
I frowned and a smile cracked my lips. The first real one I’d had all day.
“But something about the new girl is always scary. You wonder where she’s from. If she had a huge boyfriend back home who could crush you—I waited too long, I guess.”
I opened the stall door tentatively and looked up at him. His eyes startled me. He seemed hurt for me, like he’d wanted to stop my pain even back then.
If only he knew my pain right now had nothing to do with him. With that in mind again, I shook off whatever the hell he was making me feel and stayed on task. “We would have…been amazing that night.”
He cocked his head as if I hadn’t been listening to him. “Harper.”
I pulled him into the stall. “We could be amazing tonight. I’ve learned a thing or two about what men like.” I tore at the buttons of his shirt and leaned into him. Trying desperately—and failing—not to be affected by his steel abs. His carved chest. His…smell. God, he smelled like—he smelled like Irish spring rather than someone who’d just played a hockey game.
“Harper?”
My name rolled off his lips like a thirsty man begging for water. Gruff and desperate.
His mouth was a breath away and I was more tempted to close that distance than I was to get what I came for. His breathing was heavy, and his hands were tight on my waist. Just when I thought one more kiss couldn’t hurt my mission, Troy spoke.
“What do you want?” His jaw locked as if he were angry at me for throwing myself at him.
“What I missed out on.” I stepped back and perked my lip. “Seeing you naked.”
“What?”
“That’s my one regret. That I had the chance to see the great Troy Hartman naked, and I’d missed my shot.”
“That’s all?”
I laughed, but it was mostly to release all the pent-up nerves. “Well yeah, did you think I’d have sex with you in the men’s bathroom?”
“I didn’t know what to think. I mean, maybe my head would be working better if I didn’t drink more than my limit tonight, but—”
“No photos, Troy.” I held up my hand. “Scout’s honor.” I lifted my purse and pushed it under the stall for good measure.
He rubbed his eyes and groaned. “This is beyond immature and frankly, it’s something my brother would do…so no, Harper, I’m not going to—”
“August?” I laughed. “You’re joking, right? That guy doesn’t have a daring bone in his body.”
He lowered his hands. His eyes blazing with something fierce. “Is that what you think?”
“I mean, come on, you have to agree. The only crazy thing August has ever done was, I don’t know—get an A-minus in math?”
“What’s your point?”
“I’m saying this is so not something he would do—August is straightlaced. Mr. Perfect would never be caught dead in a stall with a girl.” I slapped on a pout for effect. “And… I doubt he’d ever let a girl down.” I raised a challenging brow.
His tongue shifted in his mouth momentarily until something shifted in him. Stepping toward me, he pressed a firm hand to my stomach and backed me against the wall. “I’m going to need some room.”
Troy brought his fingers to his already loosened shirt. Holding my gaze, he peeled the fabric down his arms. My heart raced—or did it stop? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that his body was beautiful—and instantly intimidating. As if broad shoulders, a powerful chest, and killer biceps weren’t enough, he pulled down his pants, challenging my ability to breathe like a normal human.
My pulse quickened, and my throat clogged with panic when he stood before me in nothing but his boxer briefs.
When his thumbs hooked along the band to pull them down, I held my hands out in front of me, blocking the view. “Stop.”
Alarmed, he paused and cocked a brow.
My chest heaved, but I managed to speak. “H-hold that thought—I need to—um...” With a breath, I remembered my purpose, remembered who this was.
This was Troy. And he was dirt. He deserved what was coming. Grabbing him by the shoulders, I shoved his clothes out from under the stall door with one foot and then flipped him, pushing him against the wall.
I mustered the most seductive voice I could. “Wait right here.” Taking one last look at him, I opened the stall and started to gather his clothes, reaching for my pocketbook last.
“Harper?” he called.
With arms full of his clothes, I raced to the door. “Your fans are waiting, Troy Hartman. Go get your Queen.”
“Harper, stop. Wait.”
Leaving his flustered tone behind me, I raced out, clutching every article to my chest and glancing around like a guilty bank robber before slipping through the back door.
The cool October chill wiped the heat of adrenaline away, and I shivered as I dumped his clothes in the back alley trash bin.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I did it.
Then…I waited. Eagerly waited for that invigorated feeling to wash over me. Or hell, even the slightest satisfaction for finally getting back at Troy for what went down on prom night.
But it was entirely uneventful. I needed to see the humiliation. I needed to watch him live it.
With a brave breath, I stepped back into the bar. The place seemed rowdier than before. There was definitely something exciting happening and I had a feeling I knew exactly what that was.
Show time.
Smiling, I took the end seat by the bar again, expecting to find Troy the laughing stock of the night. For the police to be called, fining him for indecency. Hell, anything to make all this worth it.
Instead, I found our half-naked hockey star with an ear-to-ear grin—making his way out of the crowd—where someone had just called out, “You’re my hero.”
Spotting me instantly at the end of the bar, he sauntered over, high-fiving a few hands in the air as he passed them.
“Another round for my buddies, Finn,” Troy called as he slipped beside me, nudging me with his bare elbow. “And whatever she’s having, too.”
I shut my eyes and muttered curses that fell on deaf ears. “Just perfect.” When I opened my eyes, Troy was gazing at me with a coy grin and winked.
The bartender walked back over to him, handing him a t-shirt with the bar logo on it. “Sorry to ruin your fun, but please put this on,” he asked with a roll of his eyes.
“Sure thing, Finn.” Troy clutched the shirt and a pint of beer, then leaned into me and whispered, “You can keep ‘em.”
I. Wanted. To. Scream .