13. Harper
13
HARPER
“ S hould we take over-under bets on when you’ll go back to the hockey house?” Olivia eyes me. “Like, for real. Not just running back to get fresh clothes and go to class.”
That’s exactly where we’re going now.
We decided to walk—it’s only two miles, Olivia said—and she rationalized we can call a rideshare car to get back after my photography class. The wind is cold, and my face is freezing. We’re almost back to Framingham State, luckily. We take side streets that let us avoid the arena, cutting through residential housing.
Eventually, we come up on the hockey house. My brother and Camden both should be on campus at this hour. I don’t really give a shit about the other two.
Olivia follows me up the porch steps and inside, and she closes the door fast. Inside is a lot warmer, but it’s just a blessing to be out of the wind. I pull my hood down and rub my hands together.
“What do you need for the photography class?”
“Just the camera in my closet and my backpack.” I hurry toward the stairs.
Olivia had an early class, and now she’s done for the day. Lucky her . But she volunteered to set up in the library while I’m at class, then accompany me back to St. James. If I’m not ready to just stay here.
Which I’m not.
I’m getting paranoid. I keep thinking someone’s watching me. Or, well, more people. Everyone. They’re going to take one glance and recognize me from the WatchMe page.
It’s dumb, since my face hasn’t been in it. It’s in the tiny profile picture at the top of the page, though.
And my full name.
I grimace and continue upstairs, bypassing Camden’s and Royal’s rooms. Then Lucas’s and Connor’s. All the doors are shut except the bathroom.
At the end of the hall, I pause with my hand on the doorknob. How many times has Camden come looking for me?
Probably not often at all. I wasn’t there when he posted it, and then I spent another night at Olivia’s. Tonight will be the third.
Perhaps the final?
Depends on how many question mark texts my brother sends.
I step inside and take a breath. A floral scent hits me—it practically smacks me in the face. My muscles all lock, but my heart jumps into overdrive.
I look around the room frantically, but it’s empty. Just the air mattress, same as before. The open closet. My gaze swings back to the bed. I left it unmade, but someone clearly took the time to straighten my bedding. It looks… lumpy ?
My brows furrowed, I approach like something will bite, and fling back the comforter.
Spread across the sheets are a dozen pink roses.
Max .
Or a sick joke by Camden?
I stumble backward, putting distance between me and the roses. My stomach churns, and I swallow hard.
“Olivia!” I shout.
She rushes upstairs and down the hall, skidding to a halt in the open doorway. She gasps, then chokes.
“Please tell me Camden did this,” I whisper. “ He doesn’t know where I live?—”
“It was absolutely Camden.” Olivia steps forward. She’s the brave one, going straight up to the bed and picking up one of the flowers. “But…”
Light spots dance in my peripheral vision. “But, what?”
“You probably didn’t tell him Max used to cut off the thorns.” Olivia holds up one of the long-stemmed roses, her thumb right below where a thorn has been removed.
Fuck .
I back up until I hit the wall and slide down it.
Olivia makes a noise in her throat. “He’s just guessing. You haven’t been here. So… he can’t know. All he knows, probably, is your brother lives here.”
“Okay.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight for a long moment, trying to regain some control over myself. After a long moment, I look up at her. “You’re right.”
“Come on.” Olivia holds out her hands. “Deep breath.”
I let her pull me to my feet. She rummages around on my desk, in the drawers, and pulls out a notebook I’d labeled for my photography class. She tucks it into my backpack and finds my camera. My laptop is already in the bag.
“I’m going to walk you to and from class, and I will punch that asshole in the face if I see him.” She holds out my bag. “And then we’re going to tell your brother.”
I shake my head. “Where will I go if here isn’t safe? Home? That’s not safe either.”
She quiets.
Telling my brother…
I march over to my desk and grab the small trash bin, then make quick work sweeping the flowers into it. They barely fit, and my fingers crush some of the petals in my hurry. The pink stains my fingers, my white sheets. It’s like the color has bled.
“Can you open the window? Let some air in?—”
“On it,” Olivia replies.
I carry the flowers out of my room. Straight downstairs, out the front door, and around to the side of the house where the garbage bins live. I dump them all in and slam the lid shut.
If he’s watching…
I keep the mask over my features in place and return inside. Olivia has further removed any trace of the bits of petals left behind, and even the scent is lessening. The chilly breeze sweeps in, lifting strands of my hair.
I swing my bag over my shoulder and motion to her. Clothes can wait—they’re the least of my problem now. My skin crawls just standing in this room any longer.
And besides, I’m about to be late for my photography class.
“Leave it,” I advise. “Let’s get out of here.”
My time on campus is spent oscillating between trying to focus on class, looking over my shoulder, and checking that damn app. The number of subscribers on my page has only grown, and it makes me sick every time the page refreshes.
But I cannot stop.
I also can’t stop scrolling the comments on the video, searching for something to indicate Max Keegan is watching. If he found it.
What if he did? And that’s what prompted the roses?
“Ms. Shay?”
I jerk.
My photography professor stands at the front of my row. “You okay?”
I slowly look around the rest of the room, and my body goes hot when it registers there’s not a single other person remaining.
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, Professor.” I scramble to flip my notebook shut and collect the assortment of pens I was using… until, apparently, my mind wandered enough that I missed the end of the lesson. “Don’t know where my head went.”
She chuckles. “It happens to the best of us. I got a little long-winded at the end anyway. Once students get a glazed look to their eye, I know to wrap it up.”
“I really like this class.” Everything sufficiently gathered, I swing my bag over my shoulder and pause at the front of the room. “I’m looking forward to trying out the technique we’ve been going over recently.”
While we’ve barely dug in for the semester, I’ve been intrigued by the methods Professor Bianca has introduced.
My rented camera was previously stored in my desk drawer in my dorm room. Then wrapped in eighteen layers of clothing. Then, carefully placed in the closet.
Now, it is back in its case in my backpack. We bring them in on Mondays and do a sort of show-and-tell at the beginning of the class. I didn’t have much to show, just some landscapes that seemed dull in comparison to the other students’ photos.
My professor sees me to the door and pauses. “For this upcoming week… if you don’t mind me suggesting this, Harper, perhaps you could return to what you originally said you liked? Portraits, if I’m not mistaken?”
I frown. “I… could.”
Olivia has often been my subject, so I could ask her. Speaking of—I spot her through the doorway, leaning against the far wall with her bag at her side.
“Word around campus is you’re related to one of our hockey players,” Professor Bianca adds. “Not that I get caught up in student gossip, but I’ve always found a personal touch can help inspiration.”
I nod slowly, imagining how asking Royal to pose for me would go. Probably not too well. I suppose I’d have to cave and return to the hockey house for that to happen.
“I’ll think on that. Thanks, Professor.”