Chapter 13 The Text
The Text
Harper
I wake up from a Sunday late morning nap and reach for my phone on the nightstand, not quite ready to face whatever notifications accumulated while I was napping.
My body still feels warm and languid from last night—the memory of Liam’s laugh, the way those elevator doors closed and everything went sharp and hot between us, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world.
But underneath the satisfaction is this nagging feeling that whatever’s happening between us is temporary.
Liam Murphy doesn’t do relationships. He does hookups and charm and moving on to the next shiny thing that catches his attention.
I’m just enjoying the ride while it lasts, telling myself I can handle it when it inevitably ends.
I pad into the kitchen where Maddie’s perched on the counter in black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, cradling a coffee mug.
Her hair is in a messy bun that actually looks deliberately tousled instead of like she stuck her finger in an electrical socket, which means she’s feeling better than expected.
“Morning, sunshine,” I say, grabbing my favorite mug—the one with the chipped handle that I refuse to throw away. “How’s your head?”
“Surprisingly functional,” she admits. “Though I may have made some questionable decisions last night.”
I pour myself coffee and lean against the counter across from her, unable to resist the opening she’s just given me. “So... did you kiss Sirus?”
Maddie almost chokes on her coffee, sputtering slightly before fixing me with a glare. “What? No. Maybe. Shut up.”
“Wow.” I laugh, stirring cream into my coffee. “That’s a really strong denial there, Mads.”
She mutters something under her breath about tequila and bad decisions, her cheeks turning pink in a way that’s absolutely adorable. She’s clearly more embarrassed than she wants to admit, which means it was definitely more than just a kiss.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says. “I was being responsible. We didn’t... do anything else.”
“I wasn’t judging. Sirus seems nice.”
“He is nice. That’s the problem.”
Before I can ask what she means by that, my phone buzzes against the counter. I glance at the screen and do a double-take.
Unknown number: Hey, it’s Cole. How about I take you on a proper date without your cousin this time?
My first reaction is confusion—apparently Maddie’s drunken matchmaking efforts actually worked. My second reaction is this weird flutter in my stomach that I definitely didn’t ask for and don’t quite know what to do with.
Maddie notices my expression immediately. “Who’s that?”
“Cole. Apparently you were giving out my number last night.”
Her grin is completely unrepentant. “Good. You should date him. He’s decent, Harper. Like, actually decent. Not a player, no obvious red flags, probably doesn’t have commitment issues.”
I shrug, trying to play it off even though my pulse has picked up slightly. “I’m not looking for anything right now.”
“Then go for the free dinner. At least let a man buy you something nice. Make a friend.”
There’s something in her tone that makes me study her face more carefully. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”
“Because you deserve someone who treats you right.” She takes another sip of coffee, then adds casually, “Hey, Liam left the party early last night.”
I keep my expression neutral even though my heart does a little skip. “Cool.”
“You don’t know why he left?”
I shake my head, hoping I look appropriately disinterested. “No idea. Like you said yourself, he’s a player. He can play with whoever he wants.”
The lie sits heavy in my chest, but there’s no way I’m telling Maddie that I was the reason Liam left early. That would lead to questions I’m not ready to answer and lectures I definitely don’t want to hear.
I look back down at Cole’s text, rereading it while I sip my coffee.
He was steady at dinner, easy to talk to once we got past the initial awkwardness of being set up.
There’s no real reason to say no, and maybe it’s exactly what I need—something normal and uncomplicated to balance out the fire hazard that is Liam.
Before I can overthink it, I type back.
Me: Sure. When?
Cole: This week. You pick the night.
Me: Wednesday. I’m free after six.
Cole: Perfect. I’ll pick you up. Unless you want to meet me somewhere public so you can bail if I’m boring.
Me: Good idea. Saves me from having to make up an awkward excuse.
Cole: Confidence booster, you are.
Maddie leans over, trying to peek at my phone screen. “You’re smiling.”
“I’m not.”
“You totally are. It’s cute. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your boyfriend Liam.”
My heart stutters at the word ‘boyfriend,’ but I hide it under an exaggerated eye roll. “Liam’s not my boyfriend. Don’t be annoying.”
Looking at Maddie now, I’m struck by how much she means to me.
She’s not just my cousin—she’s been like a sister since we were kids, the person who knows me better than almost anyone.
Which makes keeping this secret about Liam feel even worse.
I would put her life before mine, but I can’t even tell her the truth about Liam.
I inhale, not ready to deal with her judgment or reaction. Not yet.
“I’m just saying,” she continues, “Cole seems like the kind of guy who actually calls when he says he will. Novel concept, I know.”
The rest of the day passes in a comfortable haze of small chores, homework that I half-heartedly attempt, and background TV that we’re not really watching.
Every so often, my phone buzzes with another short message from Cole—nothing heavy or intense, just a slow drip of easy banter that makes me realize I’m looking forward to seeing him again.
Cole: What’s your favorite type of food? Trying to pick a restaurant that won’t give you food poisoning.
Me: Italian. And I appreciate your concern for my digestive health.
Cole: I aim to please. Also, I know a place that has excellent pasta and a very low mortality rate.
Me: Sold.
Cole: Fair warning—I’m probably going to be nervous and overcompensate by talking too much.
Me: Better than awkward silence. I’ll bring conversation topics just in case.
Cole: You’re very prepared for this dating thing.
Me: I like to have a plan.
I don’t notice that I’m checking my phone more often than usual, or that I’m smiling at his messages more than I probably should be. There’s something refreshing about the easy back-and-forth, the way he’s clearly putting thought into making sure I’m comfortable without being overwhelming about it.
As I’m getting ready for bed, brushing my teeth and washing my face, my phone lights up one more time.
Cole: Looking forward to Wednesday.
I stare at the message for a moment, struck by how simple and genuine it sounds. No games, no mysterious undertones, just honest interest.
Me: Me too.
And as I plug my phone in to charge and settle under my covers, I realize I haven’t heard from Liam at all. And after what we did last night, it worries me.
I lay in my bed and tell myself to not overthink or overreact.
Liam’s made it clear he wants to take things at the pace I’m comfortable with.
Maybe he doesn’t want to pry, but neither do I.
I grab my phone and scroll through the messages with Cole and smile at how easy and natural it feels to talk to him.
Maybe this doesn’t have to be a serious date, maybe we can be friends. Actual friends.