Chapter 16
Baptiste
It’s over. We made it to the end of the tournament, and unfortunately, the Stripes team lost. We just weren’t as strong as our adversaries. They deserved the win.
Exhaustion and disappointment follow us back to the hotel. Everyone is quiet on the bus. What is there to say? There’s only one winner, and tonight it isn’t us.
We finally pull in front of the hotel entrance, and some of the players’ families are here waiting, including my teammates’ wives.
And then there’s Harper.
My chest warms when I see her dressed in my number two jersey, biting her lower lip, rocking slightly on her heels like she’s been standing there longer than necessary.
For a moment there, I thought we wouldn’t be able to get past that argument we had a few days ago.
She tried to get me to call that woman who claimed to be my mother, insisting on it—even though I was very clear that I wanted nothing to do with her.
And that really ticked me off. So what if that lady knows the place I was born or has green eyes?
I won’t get sucked into this world of hurt all over again.
Thankfully, she eventually came to terms with it, and since then we’ve been back to normal.
Which is still excruciating, by the way.
I’m now one hundred percent sure I’ve fallen for her. Every time we’re together, all I want to do is tug her closer and kiss her. I almost gave in to the urge last night when we came back from dinner, but she’s giving me mixed signals, and I’m too scared she’d turn me down.
“Hey,” she says with a subtle wince. “How are you?”
Her gaze roves over my face, like she’s checking for damage that isn’t visible.
I shrug, forcing a breath out. “I’m fine. It’s the game, you know? Always a tough pill to swallow, but I’ll get over it.”
“Yeah.” She hesitates, then shifts her weight toward me, closing the small gap between us. Her voice drops. “Do you want some company, or would you rather be alone?”
The choice is easier than she thinks.
“Depends.” I eye the bag she’s holding. “You brought me snacks?”
Her caramel eyes sparkle. “You know it.”
“Then let’s go before anyone sees us,” I murmur. Her laughter is quick and soft, like she’s in on a secret.
We head straight to my room. She’s been hanging out there more and more these past couple of days, and it feels natural. So natural that I notice her absence when she’s not there.
She sits on the armchair, watching me like I’m a bomb about to explode. “I’m not sure what to say.”
I shake my head with a faint smile. “It’s fine, Harper. Really. Let’s just not talk about it. You win some, you lose some, right?” I pause, then add in a lighter tone, “How was your night? Any black sedan waiting for you in front of the hotel?”
Despite my joking about it, there’s an unease in the pit of my stomach. I saw that car again yesterday, and I don’t like it hanging around. Harper claims she’s never seen it, but I’m still not convinced.
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “Stop worrying about me.”
“Of course I worry,” I say before I can stop myself.
When the words leave my mouth, time seems to still. My gaze locks with hers, the air thick and quiet. Her cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink, and her lips part like she’s about to say something—anything. Meanwhile, all I want is to close the gap between us.
She clears her throat, breaking the moment, then looks away as she reaches into the bag.
“Hey.” I catch her hand before she can pull away. The contact is brief, accidental—but my heartbeat immediately kicks into overdrive. “Those are my snacks.”
She looks down at our hands for half a second too long before raising an eyebrow. “What, you’re not going to share?”
“I’m sad,” I say solemnly. “I just lost a very important game. I don’t think I’ll recover without some TLC.”
She laughs, her head tipping back, then squeezes my hand once before letting go. “You’ll survive.”
She starts unwrapping her Twix—slowly, deliberately—then places it carefully in her mouth, eyes flitting up to mine like she’s daring me to comment.
I burst out laughing, and she does the same, crumbs scattering onto her jersey.
And even through that spray of Twix crumbs, she’s still the most attractive woman I’ve ever met.
We eat, chat, and laugh, and I can’t think of a better way to nurse my loss. Hanging out with Harper is the best medicine.
And as I reach for another Twix, it hits me—this might be the last time I’ll ever see her.
“Are you leaving tomorrow?” I ask, the words coming out rougher than I expected.
She glances at me, her expression softening. She doesn’t answer right away, like she’s weighing something. “That’s the plan.”
“Could you stay until Sunday?” I ask quickly. “There’s a gala for the athletes on Saturday night, and I’d love for you to come.” Then I add, almost too fast, “Everyone’s going to be there. It’s like a farewell to these past three weeks in DC.”
She bites her lip, eyes dropping to the floor.
Just when I think she’s going to turn me down, she nods.
“I’d love to go with you.”
Our last few days in DC went by in a flash, and it’s now our last evening—the night of the gala. I’m still not sure where Harper and I stand. I know where I want to be, but she’s hard to read sometimes.
Miles said she wouldn’t be coming to a gala with me, now that her assignment here is over, unless she had some interest in me. But what does he know? He and Marissa had been pining over each other for years before they finally figured out they were in love.
I definitely feel a spark between Harper and me, and we’ve been getting closer by the day. But in life, I’ve learned to never get my hopes up.
The gala is taking place in the hotel ballroom, and I told Harper I’d pick her up at her door before we meet everyone downstairs. That way, I have a minute to absorb the shock of seeing her in what I’m sure will be a jaw-dropping dress before having to face my friends.
I adjust my tux, straighten my cuffs, then knock on her door.
A beat later, she opens it—and I’m glad I had enough sense to make that decision.
Harper is breathtaking. She pulled her hair into a loose, low bun, a couple of strands framing her face as if they escaped on purpose. Her dress is midnight blue, silken and fluid, hugging her in a way that feels unfair to the human race.
“Hey.” She beams, and I do my best to keep my knees from buckling. Her eyes trail over me, slow and unapologetic, lingering just long enough to make my pulse quicken—but maybe that’s just my imagination running wild.
“Hi,” I finally manage, swallowing. “You’re… wow. You look amazing, Harper.”
“Thanks.” She blushes, tucking one of those escaped strands behind her ear. The gesture feels oddly intimate. When I offer her my arm, I half expect her to hesitate.
She doesn’t.
We take the elevator down together, her fingers resting lightly at my elbow, and meet up with everyone in the lobby. They all look sharp and polished, their suits and evening gowns fitting the occasion.
“One thing, before we go in,” Adler says, his stern gaze set on Harper.
“What is it?” She frowns, already wary.
“Will you finally admit you’re friends with all of us?”
A second passes before everyone breaks into laughter.
“What?” she blurts through chuckles, her gaze flicking to me like she’s gauging my reaction.
“We haven’t made it official yet,” he continues. “And I hate uncertainty.”
“Same,” Beaumont adds. “We need to put a label on this thing we have going on.”
“I’m sure Froggy wouldn’t mind that,” Miles mutters, his voice barely there—but I hear him anyway and shoot him a death glare. Can’t have him sabotaging my chances with Harper because he’s trying to “help.”
“Fine,” Harper says with a roll of her eyes, though she can’t hold back her smile. “I guess I can safely say that, yes. We’re friends.”
That single, short sentence sends a jolt to my chest. I love having Harper around, and it looks like I’m not the only one. My friends seem to have adopted her too. More than anything, I’m glad that the feeling is mutual and she plans on seeing us—seeing me—again when we’re back in New York.
“She said yes!” Adler applauds loudly, making the people walking past turn around, startled.
“Wow,” Beth says. “He didn’t even react like that when I said yes.”
We all laugh, and Adler pulls his wife into his arms.
“Of course I did. Don’t be jealous now.”
“Seriously, though,” Hawthorne says, offering Harper a smile. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into? This is a pretty intense group.”
“And once you’re in, they don’t let you leave,” Wally deadpans, triggering another round of laughter.
“Oh yeah,” Harper says. “I noticed.” She glances at me, the corner of her mouth lifting. “But I think I can handle it. And I know people who can make me disappear if I need an out.”
“Then you’ll be fine.” Wally nods. “Maybe you could hook me up too.”
“Wow, what’s wrong with Wally tonight?” Miles says, eyes widening. “What did you give him, Grace?”
Wally groans. “Just glad it’s my last night here with the lot of you, that’s all.”
More chuckles ripple through the group.
“Well then,” Hayley says, linking her arm with Beaumont’s. “Let’s make it count.”