Chapter 31
Kenzie
Iwoke up alone on the hard floor, only my jacket as a pillow, to find the spot beside me empty. When Gina’s bare feet padded across the hardwood floor toward the kitchen, I kept my eyes shut and my breathing even, knowing she was probably hunting for him too.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I climbed off the floor, the chill of the morning air raising goosebumps on my arms. After checking every inch of the main room, I finally spotted him—a dark silhouette pressed against the wall outside Harper’s bedroom, his white-knuckled fists clenched at his sides.
His eyes, narrowed and unblinking, tracked her every movement as she hurried toward Gina, her messy hair and wrinkled clothes telling the whole story.
The hushed, urgent whispers of his conversation with Ford floated down the hallway like poisonous smoke. I strained to catch every word, my fingernails digging half-moons into my palms.
Harper screwing Ford shouldn’t have twisted Asher’s face into that mask of jealousy. Not when my engagement ring glittered on my finger and our wedding is days away.
Why can’t anyone else see through her act? The way she tosses her hair, laughs with her head thrown back, those doe eyes that aren’t even that pretty? And why, after everything, does Asher’s gaze still follow her like she’s the sun and he’s dying of cold?
Asher turned away from Ford, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitching beneath his stubbled skin. Ford stood frozen in place, mouth slightly open, color draining from his face like water circling a drain.
The silence between them crackled with electricity, making the hair on my arms stand up.
Their hushed argument hung in the air like invisible smoke—toxic and suffocating.
Everyone in our circle except Harper herself could see the truth written across Ford’s face: the way his eyes followed her, how his voice softened when he spoke her name, the protective stance he took whenever she entered a room.
And Asher says something to him that makes him white as a sheet.
I step into the kitchen where Asher leans against the counter, watching Harper with that half-lidded gaze I’ve come to hate. I wrap my arm around his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine, and press my lips against his.
I make sure to let out a small moan, just loud enough for Harper to hear over the clink of coffee mugs.
His stubble scratches my chin as I pull away.
“I don’t know about anyone else, but I had an amazing night last night,” I say, winking at him while running my fingertip along the collar of his rumpled t-shirt.
Harper doesn’t even flinch, just continues stirring her coffee with mechanical precision. I slide past her, close enough that our shoulders almost touch, and yank open the fridge door. The bottles inside rattle, and her silence feels like sandpaper against my skin.
I grab the orange juice, squeezing the plastic bottle until my knuckles turn white. “Sex with someone you love is so much better than a one-night stand, don’t you think, Harper?”
Finally, she turns to me, scrunching her nose. “Where did you sleep last night?”
“I didn’t get much sleep, if you know what I mean.”
Harper reaches up and pulls down a stack of plates from the cabinet, setting them on the counter without saying a word. But I won’t going to let her silence deter me. “I know you don’t think I’m your friend, Harper, but I am.”
“You are, huh?”
“Which is why I think you should know what I overheard after you walked out here with Gina—between Asher and Ford,” I murmur, lowering my voice.
Her posture stiffens, and I put on my best concerned-friend expression. “What are you talking about?”
“Ford told Asher you’re just a fling. But don’t worry, I understand the appeal. I’ve been with Ford too.”
Harper snaps her head toward me, eyes wide. “What?”
“His macho personality really turns you on, but there’s not much depth beyond that. Trust me, you’re not missing out.”
Her arms cross defiantly over her chest. “You’ve slept with Asher and Ford?”
“Not at the same time. Although that definitely has its possibilities…”
And it really does. The thought of both of them, Asher’s calloused fingertips tracing my collarbone while Ford’s lips press against the nape of my neck.
Their muscled bodies on either side of me, a tangle of limbs and sheets, the scent of cologne and sweat mingling in the air.
The power of having them both desperate for me, competing for my attention.
I could definitely get on board with that idea.
“When did you sleep with Ford?”
“We went to prom together, remember? He wasn’t my first, but I’m pretty sure I was his. If I wasn’t, he definitely needed to learn a few skills, but it wasn’t the worst experience I’ve had.”
Harper shakes her head but remains silent. I can tell I’m getting under her skin. Perfect.
“Harp, when will you let go of this grudge? I’m sorry you got hurt, but I love Asher. And he loves me.”
She laughs bitterly. “This grudge? You’ve done everything to become a discount version of me, Kenzie. And you still can’t just be happy that you’ve won.”
“I have won, haven’t I?”
“I don’t care that you’re with Asher. Have him. I don’t want him anymore.”
That catches me off guard, and irritation bubbles up inside me. “You don’t? Seriously? You expect me to believe that?”
“I stopped wanting him when I found out he climbed into bed with someone I thought was my best friend.”
“You blame me?”
“I blame you both. The difference is, I don’t care about what you did as much as you want me to. You want him? You have him. I’m not fighting you for him.”
“You’re not?”
It feels like a trap, like she wants me to lower my defenses so she can swoop in and reclaim Asher.
“Losing Asher the way I did hurt. It really hurt. But it didn’t sting as much as what you did, Kenzie. I thought we were friends, but now I see it was one-sided. You were never my friend, and accepting that loss is harder than I expected.”
Harper walks away, and I stare after her. No, we’ve been rivals ever since I developed a crush on Greg Talbert in eighth grade, and he asked Harper to the dance. She’s just playing a game, and I refuse to let her win.
But she really doesn’t seem to care about Asher anymore.
I glance at him across the room, where he’s leaning against the wall, his eyes still tracking Harper like a lost puppy.
The stubble I’d found so sexy this morning now looks unkempt, and the way his T-shirt stretches across his chest—which used to make my stomach flutter—suddenly seems like he’s trying too hard.
When he runs his hand through his hair for the fifth time in as many minutes, I notice the bitten-down fingernails I’ve always overlooked. Somehow, in the harsh kitchen light, with Harper’s words still hanging in the air, he looks smaller. Diminished.
No, Kenzie, stop! Snap out of it. Harper just wants you to let your guard down. You will win. You have to.
But what am I even winning now?