5. Avery
Avery
If you had told me a month ago that I’d be waking up every morning with Harper Price’s blonde hair tickling my nose, I would have checked you into the psych ward. But here we are.
Dating Harper—the real Harper—is like finally solving a complex case that’s been haunting me for years.
We aren't just compatible; we’re a perfect, chaotic match.
In the library, we’re a two-woman power cell, debating the finer points of Contract Law until the librarians give us the death stare.
In bed, the fire we discovered during the "deal" hasn't flickered once; if anything, it’s turned into a steady, intense heat that leaves me breathless.
She doesn't just banter with me; she gets me. She knows that when I’m stressed, I need silence and a very specific type of sour candy.
She knows that when I’m proud of a paper, I need her to challenge my conclusion just so I can prove her wrong.
The word "bully" has finally started to fade from my mental dictionary, replaced by "girlfriend." I’ve forgiven her. Not because I’ve forgotten the past, but because I’m too busy loving the person she’s become when she’s with me.
The student center is buzzing with the usual mid-morning energy—espresso machines hissing, students frantic over finals—when the temperature seems to drop twenty degrees.
I see her before Harper does. A woman in a tailored cream suit that probably costs more than my mother’s house, her hair pulled back into a bun so tight it looks painful. It’s Eleanor Price. She doesn't walk; she glides through the crowd like a shark in a koi pond.
"Harper," the woman says. Her voice isn't loud, but it cuts through the room like a piano wire.
Harper, who was currently laughing at a meme I’d shown her, goes absolutely rigid. The color drains from her face so fast I think she might faint. She stands up slowly, her chair screeching against the tile.
"Mother," Harper whispers. "What are you doing here?"
"Your father and I haven't heard from you in three days, Harper.
Your phone goes straight to voicemail," Eleanor says, ignoring me entirely as if I’m part of the furniture.
"The Sterling family is hosting a gala this weekend to announce the merger and your engagement to Marcus.
We have a fitting at four. Grab your things. "
I stand up beside Harper, my hand instinctively finding hers under the table. She’s trembling—a fine, violent shiver that makes my heart ache. I can feel the years of conditioning, the "Price" decorum, fighting against the girl I’ve come to know.
"I... I can't go, Mother," Harper says, her voice small but gaining a jagged edge. "I’m not marrying Marcus. I told Father I didn't want this."
Eleanor’s eyes flash, a cold, sharp blue. "What you 'want' is a luxury we don't indulge, Harper. You have a legacy to uphold. Now, stop this childish rebellion and come to the car before this becomes a scene."
A few students have stopped to watch. The silence is spreading. Harper looks down at our joined hands, and for a second, I fear she’ll pull away. But she doesn't. She grips my fingers so hard her knuckles turn white. She looks at me, and I give her a small, firm nod. I'm right here.
Harper takes a deep breath. She looks back at her mother, and this time, she doesn't flinch.
"No," Harper says. It’s a small word, but it ripples through the student center. "I’m not the daughter you want, Mother. I’m not the 'Price' asset.”
“Harper, where is this coming from?” her mom asks, taken back.
I see the fear in Harper’s eyes replaced by courage as I squeeze her hand.
With a stubborn set to her jaw, she says, “There’s something you need to know, mom.
Something I’ve been wanting to tell you for years.
” There’s a long pause during which Eleanor’s eyes flicker between Harper and me.
“I am a lesbian.” Harper meets her mom’s eyes when she says those words. “I like women, not men.”
The silence that follows is deafening. The espresso machine stops hissing. Every head in the center is turned toward us. Harper’s voice is shaking, but she pushes through the fear.
"A lesbian," Eleanor repeats softly, the word sounding foreign in her mouth. She looks at me, really looking at me this time, her gaze assessing and confused. “That is a surprise. And is she…?” She gestures toward me.
"Yes, Avery and I are together. Actually, I’m in love with her," Harper says, lifting our joined hands above the table for everyone—and her mother—to see. " I’m not marrying Marcus, mom, because I can’t.
There is someone else I like, and I’m tired of hiding who I am.
I want to be with Avery and stop hiding now.
” If that’s a disappointment to the family, then... then I guess I’m a disappointment."
I hold my breath, bracing for the explosion. I expect the "Price" wrath—the cutting off of tuition, the disowning, the theatrical exit.
But Eleanor Price doesn't scream. She looks at our joined hands, then at her daughter’s face—seeing, perhaps for the first time, the raw, terrified honesty in Harper’s eyes. She looks around at the staring students and then back at Harper. Her expression isn't angry; it's... stunned. Disoriented.
Eleanor takes a slow, steadying breath. She adjusts the lapel of her blazer, the mask of the society matriarch wavering just for a second. "This is... quite unexpected, Harper. Your father and I... we were under a certain impression for nineteen years."
She pauses, the silence stretching out between them.
"I won't pretend to understand this," Eleanor says, her voice regained its polished edge, but the venom is missing.
"And I certainly don't know what to tell the Sterlings. But... I suppose I’ll need some time to process this. We both will. If this is who you are, then, we have no coice but to accept it." She looks at Harper, a flicker of something—perhaps a trace of maternal recognition—passing through her eyes. "I’ll tell your father you’re staying here to study. We’ll speak next week. "
Without another word, and without looking back, Eleanor Price turns and glides out of the student center.
The room stays silent for a heartbeat longer before the low hum of gossip begins to swell. Harper doesn't hear it. She collapses back into her chair, her chest heaving as she lets out a sound that’s half-sob, half-laugh.
"I did it," she whispers, her face glowing with a sudden, radiant elation. "Avery, I actually said it. I’m out."
She looks at me, and the transformation is staggering. The "Golden Girl" weight that has been crushing her shoulders for years seems to have evaporated. Her eyes are bright, her smile wide and real. She looks free.
"You did," I say, pulling her into a hug right there in front of the entire campus. "You were incredible."
"I feel... light," she laughs against my neck, her arms wrapping around me. "Like I’ve been holding my breath for ten years and I finally just... exhaled."
I pull back to look at her, my heart full of a pride I never thought I’d feel for Harper Price. She’s not my bully. She’s not my assistant. She’s a girl who just chose her own happiness over a kingdom, and I get to be the one she shares it with.
“It’s all thanks to you,” she says. “Without you, I’d never have found the courage to tell my mom who I was.
Spending time with you, that deal…it helped me confront what really want in life.
” Her clear eyes twinkle at me, and in that moment, I know what I want too.
I want her. I want to love Harper without the baggage of the past.
"So," I tease, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Does this mean I still get my 6 a.m. coffee, or has the 'girlfriend' status retired that?"
Harper laughs, a bright, clear sound that makes a few more people stare. "You’ll get your coffee, Avery. But I might make you work for the kisses now."
"I think I can handle that," I say, and I lean in to kiss her, letting the whole world watch.
Back in Dorm 111, the heavy oak door clicks shut, sealing out the whispers of the student center. The adrenaline that had been propping Harper up for the last hour finally breaks, leaving her legs weak. She sinks onto the edge of her bed, her breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches.
I don’t say a word. I just walk over and sit beside her, resting my hand on the small of her back. She’s shaking—a deep, rhythmic tremor—but when she looks up at me, the ghost of that "Golden Girl" mask is gone. Her eyes are clear, raw, and impossibly bright.
"That was..." She pauses, a hysterical little laugh bubbling up. "That was actually easier than I thought. I’ve been playing that conversation in my head since I was fifteen, and in my version, there were usually lightning strikes and a formal disowning."
"Your mom was stunned," I say softly, tucking a loose blonde strand behind her ear. "But she saw you, Harper. Really saw you."
Harper leans into my touch, closing her eyes. "She saw us. And she didn't walk away. I know my dad will be a harder climb, but for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for the floor to drop out from under me."
She turns her body toward me, grabbing both of my hands in hers.
Her grip is firm, grounding. "I would still be hiding, Avery.
If you hadn't caught me with that paper...
if you hadn't forced me to actually look at my life for those thirty days... I’d be at that fitting right now, picking out a dress for a life I hated.
You gave me the courage to be a person instead of an asset. Thank you."
The room grows quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long, honey-colored stripes across the floor as my hand remains tucked in hers. The dust motes dance in the golden light, the only movement in a space that feels like it’s been carved out of time itself.
“You did it by yourself,” I tell her, realizing how much my feels for her have changed.
I know her as more than my bully now. I know her past, her future, her quirks and her feelings, and that makes me feel closer to her than ever before.
“You faced your mom all on your own. That was quite brave of you, Harper.”
Harper doesn't let go of my hands. Instead, she pulls them to her chest, holding them right over her heart. I can feel the frantic, bird-like thrumming against her ribs. She looks at me, and her expression shifts into something so solemn, so intensely focused, that I feel my own breath hitch.
"Avery," she starts, her voice a low, melodic vibration. "There’s one more truth I need to put into the world today. Not for my mother, or for the school, but for you."
She swallows hard, her thumbs tracing the backs of my knuckles.
"I love you, Avery. I know you don’t forgive me for how I treated you throughout high school, but the thing is, I’ve loved you since the tenth grade.
Every time I was mean, every time I targeted you, it was because you were the only person who made me feel something I couldn't control.
I was a coward, and I was cruel, and I spent years making you think I hated you because I was terrified of how much I didn't."
She leans closer, her eyes swimming with a mixture of grief for the past and hope for the right now.
"I am so, so sorry for every second I spent making you feel small just so I could feel safe in my own lie. I love you, Avery. I love the way you fight for what’s right, I love your messy hair in the morning, and I love that you saw through me even when I didn't want you to.
I love that you were the one to change my life.
It feels like justice, somehow. The way I fell for the girl who hates me the most."
I feel a final, stubborn knot of bitterness—the one I’ve carried like armor since our freshman year of high school—finally unravel and dissolve.
The girl who bullied me is dead and buried; the woman sitting in front of me is the one who just traded a kingdom for my hand.
This Harper is different from the girl I knew thirty days ago. This Harper is mine.
I reach up, cupping her face, my palms catching the heat of her skin.
"Harper Price," I whisper, my voice thick with an emotion I can no longer suppress. "I realized something when I was holding your hand in the student center. I realized that the deal was never really about the paper or the thirty days. It was about us finally standing in the same room without any walls between us. Yes, I hated you for how you made me feel back in high school, but we aren’t in high school anymore. It’s time we both put the last behind us and moved on. "
“Avery…” Harper’s lips quiver, her blue eyes widening. “Are you—”
“Yes, I forgive you,” I tell her. “I realize you were going through your own problems and that’s why you were mean to me. I’m forgiving you because holding onto this grudge is keeping me down; it’s keeping me from doing the one thing I want the most.”
“And what’s what?” she asks, her voice low.
“To love you,” I whisper. I press my forehead against hers, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and the lingering electricity of her courage.
"I love you, Harper. I don’t know when or how it happened, but spending time with you made me realize how good we are together.
I started looking for you everywhere, wondering why we became enemies instead of friends.
I want to know all the parts of you that nobody does.
When I held your hand before your mom, I realized I never wanted to let go.
The person you are today is the one I want to spend all my tomorrows with. "
“Avery…” Harper’s eyes cloud with tears as she holds me close. “Og my god, I can’t believe this is happening. Are we really starting over?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I realized my hate for you can’t compare to how much I love you, Harper. I want a new start with you. No deals, no debt, no 'assistants.' Just us. Just two girls who are crazy for each other.”
She smiles. “I like that idea a lot. I promise, I’ll love you with all my might from now on, Avery. I’ll make you forget every bad thing I did to you and replace all the pain with good memories.”
“Good memories, huh? Why don’t we start with a kiss?”
She smiles. “Anything for you, my love.”
Harper closes the distance between us, and when her lips meet mine, I feel like I’ve won at life.
Because I’m kissing my high school bully, my roommate, the girl I love, and the girl who loves me back.
The kiss is slow, deep, and tastes of a hard-won peace.
It’s not the frantic, desperate kiss of our first night—it’s a promise.
A quiet, steady heat that says we have all the time in the world to explore each other.
As the sun dips below the horizon, the "Bully" and the "Scholarship Girl" vanish into the shadows of the room. There’s just Harper and Avery, two hearts finally beating in the same rhythm, together as one.