7. Harper
7
“ I s it true you practically carried Troy Hartman out of here last night?” Nic asked when she returned from lunch.
I sighed. Mostly because I somehow knew the security crew wouldn’t keep their mouth shut. Larry also had a crush on her and would constantly make excuses to make his way over here for a cup of coffee from my red-headed bestie.
“I’m not built to carry anything that big. I just walked him outside before Larry’s ears started turning red.”
“Oh yeah, not a pretty sight. So what happened?”
“Nothing. I drove him home…”
“Ugh, you never do anything fun. You know that would have been the perfect time to cross that vendetta off your list.”
“I don’t have a vendetta. It was more to teach someone a lesson not to fuck with me.”
She yawned.
“Shall I make you a cup of coffee?” I offered.
“There’s nothing strong enough to make this story remotely interesting to me.”
I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes as if seeing her in a new light. “Wow. That hurt.”
“Hey, I don’t mean anything by it—just that you need to loosen up that crazy grip you’ve got on yourself.”
“I’m… edgy ,” I argued.
“You’re only edgy in your sketches. You’re uptight and reserved just about everywhere else. Speaking of which, what are you doing with that one you’ve got hidden in the drawer over there?”
I kept a folder of a few of my sketches at the café should an opportunity come knocking, and I had a few to showcase. Troy’s sketch did end up in the pile but not for publication. Just as a sample of my work.
“I’m not hiding it. It’s my work, I’m just not submitting it.”
She shook her head in disappointment as she filled the sugar bin. “Yeah, you’re right. You should focus on more important things in life. Like obsessing over a list that gets you absolutely nowhere.” There was a bite to her tone.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It was sarcasm, Harp. You need to stop overthinking everything and being afraid… just be proud and screw everyone else . ”
This wasn’t the first time Nic had said something along these lines to me, but it was the first time she seemed annoyed about it.
And since I had nothing to defend myself with anything Nic could understand, I dropped it and we spent the afternoon working silently.
Four o’clock was a slow hour, so I moved the step stool to the blackboard and started writing tomorrow’s specials, adding a basketball hoop on the corner with a coffee cup swooshing through it.
“Can I get a large slam dunk, please?” I stilled at the customer's familiar voice behind me.
Twisting my neck, I found Troy’s large frame on the other side of the counter, his eyes moving from the blackboard menu to meet my startled eyes.
“Good afternoon,” he offered—sharp, yet warm, with the corner of his mouth turned upward.
I stepped down to the register and heard Nic squeal somewhere to my left.
“Size?” I asked dryly.
“Large.”
“Good to know.” Nic nudged my arm with a wink. “How about the drink?”
“He did mean the drink,” I spoke low through my teeth but heard Troy clear his throat to cover a snicker.
“Coming right up.” Nic turned on her heel and got busy with his order.
I kept my eyes on the register. “Four fifty, please.”
His gaze was intense as he took me in. I wore my hair up in a loose bun since I didn’t have a chance to wash it this morning. My green apron tied over the same clothes I wore yesterday, which Troy had dried for me just a few hours before, and nothing but tinted moisturizer on my un-made-up olive skin.
He handed me a hundred.
“Nothing smaller?” I asked in my mastered resting bitch face.
“Sorry, no.”
I handed him the change, and he slipped it all into the tip jar.
“Oh, extra whip for you, buddy,” Nic called behind me. Man, that girl didn’t miss a thing.
I rolled my eyes and glanced behind Troy impatiently. “What are you doing here, Troy?”
He slipped his hands in his pockets. I watched his jaw move tightly—as if I'd just insulted him. “I wanted to say thank you. For yesterday. You didn’t have to—well you could have just let me get arrested or walk the streets embarrassing myself but instead…you helped.”
“You’re welcome.” I glanced behind him again, anxious for more customers—or anyone.
“I’m sorry, did I do something to upset you? I mean, besides the obvious?”
“Nope, all good. Please step aside.”
“But I haven’t got my coffee yet.”
“Fine. But you can’t keep dropping by here unannounced.”
His smirk was wide and gorgeous beyond admission. “I think I have a right to since you ended up crashing on my couch last night.”
My teeth clenched as Nic appeared beside me, muttering, “Nothing happened, huh?”
I shot her a glare and she jerked. “What? His version’s way better than yours.” She turned to Troy and lowered her voice. “Tell me more. Was she naked?”
He smirked. “No, she wasn’t...”
My eyes met his, silently begging him not to finish that sentence.
“Hmm…” Nic turned back to the coffee machine. “You know, Harp, it’s impolite to sleep on someone’s couch in street clothes.”
“Nicole,” I snapped.
He leaned closer over the counter. “She’s right, you know. You could have asked to borrow something of mine.”
“Fine, next time I sneak into your apartment in the late hours, I’ll be sure to give you a good shake to ask for your hospitality.”
Our eyes seemed to dance in a competitive way as we stared each other down. As if he wondered what his next move should be. He broke first and looked at the menu. “Nice hoop sketch. Yours?”
“Yes. Here’s your coffee. Have a nice day.” I sputtered before Nic offered any more unsolicited comments his way.
Fortunately, I did finally have another customer. Unfortunately , it was my boss. “Hey, Troy Hartman. In the flesh. What can we do for you, man?”
Troy’s reaction wasn’t what I’d imagine to an adoring fan. In fact, I could have sworn I heard him huff a breath through his nostrils in aggravation.
“Um…hello. I was just—”
“Why you in a suit?” Frankie pointed out in a mocking way.
Troy’s eyes flicked to mine, and instead of averting my gaze, my eyes trailed down, scanning him in his crisp, tailor-made, body-hugging gray suit. I was so busy feeling flustered and focused on his face that I’d barely noticed what he was wearing.
And now that I have, I liked it a hell of a lot more than I should.
“I save my uniform for the ice,” he offered dryly.
Frankie laughed. “Aw, I’m just kidding. You’re obviously here for an interview, right? Who you here to see?”
“No sir, I’m actually here to see Harper.” His eyes trailed back to me. “She helped me out yesterday and I wanted to stop by and thank her.”
“Wait a second…” Frankie pointed a finger at him. “Harper, let me see that sketch of yours again.”
My chest tightened and a lump formed in my throat. I swallowed it down. “Umm…I don’t—”
“Here you go.” Nic yanked it out of the drawer and handed it to Frankie.
I could have strangled her and her pushy, well-meaning strategies.
“Ah, now I see it.” He flipped the obvious sketch of Troy himself, in uniform, taking a shot at the goal. “This you, right? Number nineteen?”
“Frankie—” I closed my eyes but it didn’t help from feeling the heat of Troy’s gaze on me before he stepped toward Frankie and the drawing.
“Either me or my twin, yes,” he chuckled lightly.
I held my breath and shook my head lightly as Troy examined the unsolicited drawing of him.
There's a restraining order in my future, I'm sure of it.
“How talented is our girl here, ey?”
“Frankie,” I whined quietly. Then walked over and snatched the paper from him.
“What? I’m not going to use it.” He looked back to Troy. “Not that it shows anything bad, so I’m not sure why she’s all freaked out over it, honestly,” he murmured to the hockey player as if they were old buddies.
Troy reached for his coffee. “Probably because I wasn’t aware of it, sir.” He added a smile for good measure.
Frankie looked over at me sheepishly. “Oh, sorry, Harp.”
“It’s fine, Frankie. I’m heading out soon. Nic will close up. Have a good night.” I cocked my head toward his office, hoping he’d take the hint.
“Alright, I know where I’m not wanted.” He shot up both index fingers toward Troy. “I’ll see you at tonight’s game, Hartman. Got company seats.” Frankie clasped his hands, wound up an invisible hockey stick, and feigned a shot into a goal, cheering for himself.
Troy’s jaw tightened suddenly, and I wondered if he was nervous about the game. “It was great meeting you. Enjoy the game.”
Frankie shot up two thumbs and strode away. I turned to Nic, who was practically shooing me away. “Later, girl. You’ve got the early shift tomorrow. Don’t stay out too late.” She chuckled as if that was funny.
I didn’t say goodbye as I removed my apron and grabbed my backpack to make it very clear I was peeved at my friend.
But maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout. Maybe I’d turn around, and Troy would have already left.
Nope. Still here. He was still standing in front of the counter and was now arching an amused brow. “Can I walk you out?”
I started walking across the atrium as he downed his coffee, tossing it in the nearby bin and raced to follow me.
To my surprise, Larry stretched a hand to Troy on our way out as if they were old friends. “Good luck tonight, bro.”
Must be the suit .
We walked in silence until we reached the corner, waiting for the light to turn. Aside from dauntingly waiting for him to say something about my drawing, it was strangely comforting having him by my side. There was a sense of protection that calmed my nerves—even if my nerves were all Troy-related. With one hand on my back, he shifted to walk on the street side. It was the faintest of gestures, but it was so gentlemanly that it almost made me smile.
Seriously! What is this?
This man walked with such precision and polish. Like someone stepping out of a boardroom. Not the raw, sharp-edged swagger of a player fresh off the ice.
Maybe he's trying to clean up his image?
He wore his suit well. Not awkwardly. He was secure and comfortable in his own skin. Chin raised, eyes level, but not a genuine smile for miles.
“I remember your sketches,” he finally said, his eyes on the street. “You did the banners, the yearbook. And I think you also orchestrated…”
“The courtyard,” I finished as we walked across. “To set the record straight and to prove to you I’m no trespassing criminal, I secretly got permission from the Assistant Principal and the Dean to do it.” I bit my lip. “I just made it seem like it was vandalism and that we were breaking rules.”
He laughed. “Why?”
I shrugged. “To pretend I was badass. To break my nerd reputation. To start off my senior year as one of the cool chics.”
“I always thought you were cool.” His voice was distant.
“No, you didn’t.” Troy Hartman only noticed me after everyone at school thought I was so cool for what I’d set up. I got all the spray cans and outlined the design for everyone to have a small part. What no one knew was that I’d shown the finished product to the school and received approval. But no one had to know that.
My response made him look at me finally and the small smile faded. His eyes drifted, and I wondered if he was trying to picture the sketch of him. The way too detailed for my comfort right now sketch of him and I wanted to sink into a hole.
I’d been a coward when it came to Troy. Except for yesterday, he was a lot easier to deal with—yes, he was drunk, but he wasn't so…intimidating. He was…just Troy. A walk in the park compared to the man I was with right now. The man that had kissed me back like no one around us existed. The man who looked at me like he might have worshiped me at one point but didn’t know how to deal with it.
But he was hard. His expressions, his rebuttals, his stares—yet I kept showing up for the occasion.
“The angle looked like it might have been from where you were sitting during Sunday's practice.”
Ugh. Smooth.
“What else was I supposed to do while you kept me hostage during an hour-long practice? Sit there and stare?”
He raised a brow. “I imagine there was some staring.” He rubbed his jaw.
Don't apologize. This is your art . I shrugged as we neared another blinking Do Not Walk sign. “I had to keep busy.”
“Ever hear of Candy Crush? Or were you crushing on something else?”
“Don’t you have a game to get ready for, Mr. Suit?”
He glanced down at his clothes. His grin fading again. What the hell was up with that?
“You don’t like the suit?” he asked, looking down at me.
I was given the chance to scan him again. We were so close I felt his breath on me when he spoke again. “Or do you prefer the outfit I was wearing when you snuck into my room last night?”
My eyes flared as crimson filled my cheeks. Troy chuckled and winked. “I’m just messing with you.”
I started to walk before the sign turned and a firm hand gripped mine, sending electric heat through me at the touch.
A ringing phone broke our standoff and he reached into his pocket. It was clearly not who he was expecting when he released a heavy sigh. “What’s up, Ryan?”
He listened for a moment and I could hear his tone switch as I stood next to him. Pedestrians started passing us when the light turned and people shoved past us. With his hand still around my elbow, he pulled us to the side. “No, he’s not with me.” He released an aggravated breath. “That’s not my—Ryan.” He muttered the next words, but I heard him. “I’ll call him.”
He dialed whoever it was he was looking for and waited before pulling the phone off his ear.