Chapter 10
Luke
When I grab our luggage from the car, I update our parking on my phone app so we can park overnight. With six p.m. to nine a.m. being free, it ends up being only a couple bucks.
Back at the hotel, the woman at the front desk gives me a knowing grin.
I hold back my smirk, thinking of how mad Harper was when she found out I told the front desk we were here on our honeymoon.
I had known she’d be mad, of course, but part of me hoped she would have jumped in on the plan.
She’s probably right that it’s bad karma, but if she had said she wanted to go the entire vacation pretending to be my fiancée, I would have been okay with it.
Harper and me being married is a daydream I never dare to touch, because as Wes put it, I enjoy torturing myself.
If being forever friend-zoned means keeping Harper in my life, then I guess I’m okay with it.
But for now, it’s fun to pretend that the two of us are more than that, even if it’s only in my head.
When I step into our room, the lights are still on and Harper is curled up on the bed.
It doesn’t look like she’s shifted much since I left.
The champagne bottle is still sitting next to her, untouched.
At the most, she’s just rolled onto her side and passed out.
She didn’t bother to grab a pillow or get under the blankets, but I’m sure it’s still comfier than the plane.
I pull the curtains closed and turn off the lights. I grab the bottle of champagne and place it back on the desk.
Harper is on one side of the bed, but her hand drifts outward to the middle. I climb in next to her, not sure what the protocol is for sharing a bed with your best friend that you have a crush on, but I try to give her space as I lie back, head on the pillow.
Having Harper already asleep next to me makes it easier to settle into bed. My mind keeps me awake for longer than I’d like, nervous energy making me think of how much I’d prefer to reach out and wrap my arms around her.
Wes was right. I’m a masochist.
Eventually I roll away and keep my back to her. It feels like a safer option and allows me to pretend she isn’t there.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because it feels like I’ve just closed my eyes when Harper stirs next to me.
“Luke?” Her voice is muffled as she sits up and grabs her phone. It brings a soft light to the room, though it’s still daytime, the light peaking in through a crack in the curtains. “It’s already three p.m.?”
We’ve been out for a couple hours then.
I’m still yawning when she crosses the room to open the curtains. Everything looks exactly the same, as if I never closed my eyes. I realize I might feel worse now than I did before I fell asleep. Harper, however, looks like a kid who just woke up on Christmas morning.
“Come on!” She grabs her jacket off the floor.
“I can’t move.” I sigh and cover my hands with an arm draped over my face.
I don’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes at me.
Before I know it, there’s a sharp tug of my hand and my arm is no longer over my face.
Harper is surprisingly strong as she attempts to yank me off the bed.
Part of me is tempted to let her and see just how far she’d be willing to drag my body across the hotel room.
She has me almost off the bed, making me consider how easily she could move a dead body, when I sit up and pull my arm back.
I expected her to let go when she saw me sit up, but she’s so focused on pulling that I end up yanking her toward me.
She stumbles. Her knees buckle to the floor and her arms fly out to catch herself, gripping my forearms. Her face collides with my chest.
“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to pull her up, but she’s laughing and lacks the composure to stand.
I wrap my arms around her, the way I wanted to wrap my arms around her when she was sleeping. The feeling of her in my arms, of her body against me, feels like the most natural thing in the world.
If lying about being married was bad karma, the universe clearly didn’t get the memo.
“Move now,” she says between a giggle, “or forever miss sightseeing in Reykjavik.” She lifts her head from my chest, still kneeling on the floor, and our eyes lock when she looks at me.
For a moment, I feel like I can’t breathe—shouldn’t breathe, or the spell between us will be broken.
The utter joy in her eyes as she looks at me pulls my heart into a knot that can’t be escaped.
I remind myself that she isn’t mine and that kissing her would ruin everything.
Not just this trip, but everything we’ve built over the years.
Her face goes flat, like she noticed the moment we were having and wanted it gone. Harper blinks, pulls away, and puts as much distance between us as possible without making it too clear she’s trying to get away from me.
I want to reach out for her hand and pull her to me again, but Harper won’t meet my eyes.
So this is it, then—a reminder of where we stand. Not lovers. Friends. Just friends. And I’ll have to be fine with that.