They look rather cozy.
“For work or for school?” I ask Harrison.
He always seems to be working on something these days.
“School,” he answers.
I turn from them and rummage through a cupboard, looking for a glass. “We’re going to the movies tonight,” I say to Riley. “Janna wanted me to invite you.”
“She wanted you to invite me?” There’s a teasing tone in Harrison’s voice. “That’s nice of her.”
After I find a glass, I turn around and give him a look. “Riley, Janna wanted me to invite you.”
“You should come!” Riley slides her hand over Harrison’s arm.
My eyes follow her fingers as they brush from his elbow to his wrist.
“I have to finish this, and then I have a project for work.” Harrison’s eyes never leave the screen.
“That’s all you’ve been doing since I got here,” Riley pouts. “Surely you can take a few hours off?”
I thought Riley was over Harrison. She hasn’t mentioned him in forever.
Maybe she just can’t stand to have a boy not fall at her feet and look at her adoringly.
Or she’s just a sucker for his greenish-blue eyes and the way he always smells faintly of quality aftershave. Or perhaps it’s the way his lips are perfectly shaped, his top lip a sculpted bow…
I blink away my thoughts, not liking the direction they’re traveling.
I’ve been dating Grant for over two months now, and absolutely nothing has happened between me and Harrison. Our relationship has shifted to purely platonic. It’s no different than having Brandon back in the house. Except nicer, because Harrison’s in the guest house and not in the next room.
That would be awkward.
“We’ll have so much fun!” Riley says, her eyes bright as she continues to trail her hand up and down Harrison’s arm.
Whoa. What did I miss?
Harrison only nods, a polite smile on his face. His eyes shift to me, and then his smile becomes wary. “You don’t mind if I come, do you, Lauren?”
“Of course not.”
Will Grant mind? Maybe.
He and Harrison still haven’t fully clicked. They’re polite. But neither of them go out of their way to be overly friendly.
“How was prom planning?” Riley asks.
Happy to change the subject, I lean on the counter. “Janna liked my idea to use the botanical gardens. She asked me to call them for information.”
Riley raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you already do that?”
“Yes, but I didn’t want to seem overly zealous.”
She sits back, finally letting her hand stray from Harrison’s arm. “You’re not too zealous—you’re efficient.”
“Well, they don’t need to know just how efficient I am.”
Harrison murmurs an acknowledgment. “Don’t want to threaten those in charge. You’ll end up being the one blowing up balloons an hour before the dance.”
I shudder at the thought of missing my salon appointment. That would definitely put a strain on the day.
We hang out in the kitchen for several hours, mostly because Harrison’s still in here. It’s obvious that Riley has no intention of leaving.
Grant shows up right on time, and I usher him in. He greets Riley with a big smile and acknowledges Harrison with a nod.
The atmosphere becomes slightly strained.
“Should we all take the same car?” Riley asks when it’s time to walk out the door.
Both Harrison and Grant pause, obviously not keen on the idea.
“Why don’t you and Harrison take his car, and I’ll ride with Grant,” I offer.
Harrison shoots me a look. Apparently he’s even less keen on that idea.
Well, too bad. He’s the one that said yes.
“Does Riley still have a thing for Harrison?” Grant asks as we pull out of the neighborhood.
I glance in the side mirror at the truck behind us. “She did. I thought she was over it.”
Grant doesn’t respond. Not wanting to talk about Harrison and Riley, I change the subject. By the time we reach the theater, I’ve distracted him by bringing up his last game.
We get to the theater before the rest of the group, and we stand to the side, trying to decide what movie we should see. Just before it’s time for several to start, Janna and a few of her friends show up.
“I just don’t see what the point of a movie is if something doesn’t explode,” Grant argues, grinning.
Riley rolls her eyes. “Something might explode in The Love Letter Diaries.”
Grant looks disgusted, and Riley laughs. I stay out of it. I browsed the listings, and there is nothing I want to watch. Tonight, I guess I’m here for the popcorn.
“Let’s take a vote,” Janna says.
“No,” Grant argues, noting the guys are outnumbered three to five. “Let’s flip a coin.”
Harrison digs a quarter out of his pocket.
“Tails,” Grant calls.
The coin lands heads up, and Grant looks at Harrison like it’s his fault.
“Sorry.” Harrison laughs and holds his hand up in surrender.
We buy our tickets and filter into the theater. I’m directly behind Riley, but Harrison pauses at the aisle. Being a gentleman, he allows her to go in first. I hesitate but then follow him in. What else can I do?
About an hour into the movie—which ends up being about a woman who grew up in love with her brother’s best friend—I realize I should have done everything in my power to make sure I wasn’t smack-dab between Harrison and my boyfriend.
They’re both bored, and because of it, they’re restless. Harrison accidentally brushes his elbow next to my arm as he takes a drink of his soda. Grant shifts in his seat and his leg presses against mine.
I sit like a statue, trying very hard not to breathe Harrison in—trying not to feel too self-conscious about Grant’s hand resting just above my knee.
When the movie finally ends—and I do mean finally; it was easily three hours long—I jump up as soon as the credits begin to roll.
“It’s almost eleven.” Grant frowns at his watch.
I pull his arm down, almost not believing him. “I have to be home in eight minutes.”
He blows out a slow breath. “So do I.”
Grant’s an only child, and his parents are almost as protective as mine. Both sets are going to freak out if we’re home after eleven, and we’ll get the royal inquisition about what exactly it was we were doing.
“Lauren can ride back with us,” Riley offers.
The look that flashes across Grant’s face is not a happy one, but he knows it’s the solution that makes the most sense.
“Okay,” he finally says. Before we part in the parking lot, he pulls me into a kiss.
My cheeks grow hot when he lingers for longer than is socially acceptable. I break away as soon as possible and pat him on the arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Riley whistles low when we get into Harrison’s truck. “What was that?”
I crawl to the backseat and brush a stray hair out of my face. “What was what?”
Harrison starts the truck, not saying a word.
“That was a “going-off-to-war” kiss, not an “I’ll-see-you-tomorrow-at-my-baseball-game” kiss.”
I fidget with my purse strap and roll my eyes. There’s no way I’m answering that one.
“You couldn’t have possibly liked that movie,” Harrison says, changing the subject after a long and uncomfortable lull in the conversation.
“It was awful,” I agree.
Riley glares at us. “It was beautiful. What’s wrong with the two of you?”
Harrison grins. “It was painful.”
“It was long,” I add.
“She died in the end,” he says.
I meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. “I wanted to die in the end.”
We end up laughing, and Riley pouts. “You two wouldn’t know art if it bit yo
u on the nose.”
“That was art?” I snort and start to laugh harder.
“You obviously have bad taste,” Riley says to Harrison, ignoring me. “What’s your favorite movie?”
Without hesitating, he gives her the title of a comedy that was so ridiculous—so absurd—it was absolutely wonderful.
I lean forward. “I love that movie!”
Riley rolls her eyes, truly disgusted. “You also have horrible taste.”
When we get to the house, Riley waves a goodbye and heads straight to her car. I’m five minutes late when Harrison and I end up walking through the door, but it doesn’t matter because my parents aren’t home.
A twinge of unease settles in my stomach.
They didn’t mention going out tonight.
“Where are they?” I ask Harrison, hoping he’ll know.
“Check your phone.”
I pull it out of my purse, and sure enough, there’s a missed text.
“They went over to Dad’s coworker’s house for dinner,” I tell him. “But Mom said they’d be home by ten-thirty.”
I glance at the grandfather clock in the entry. It’s now six minutes after eleven.
They’re never late. Not ever.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Harrison says, picking up on my worry. “Just call her.”
The call goes straight to Mom’s voice mail. Immediately, I call Dad’s number. As the call goes through, a melodic chime starts upstairs. Frustrated, I type a quick text to my Mom, asking her to call me.
Worried, I drum my fingers on my hip.
“You know what?” Harrison says. “I’m not tired. How about we watch a movie? Something better than what we just sat through.”
Without waiting for my answer, he walks into the living room and finds the remote. I sit in the recliner and watch him scroll through the options.
Why hasn’t she called? It’s not like her to forget.
Harrison ends up picking a romantic comedy that would normally make me laugh, but tonight, my mind is elsewhere. At eleven forty-five, I try to call again.
By midnight, I’m a nervous wreck.
Harrison has been shooting covert, worried glances at me since the movie started, but, this time, he frowns and hits pause. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
But he doesn’t mean it anymore. He’s worried too.
“Someone would call me, right?” My throat feels thick. “If something happened, someone would know to call?”
He kneels in front of me. “Sure. They’d check the numbers in your mom’s phone.”
But Mom’s phone is dead.
Did she forget to charge it? Or did something happen to it…
“Lauren.” Harrison’s voice is low and careful. “We don’t know that something is wrong. You need to take a breath and try to calm down.”
My mind keeps running wild with all the horrible things that could have happened to them. Tears start to prick my eyes. They’re never late.
Never, never.
Harrison pulls me up and wraps me in his arms. He rests his cheek on my head, and his hands run slowly over my back in an attempt to soothe me.
And then my phone rings.
I jump back, scrambling to answer the call. It’s an unknown number. Fear shoots through me, real this time. No one calls after midnight unless it’s an emergency. I stare at it, too terrified to answer.
Harrison takes the phone from my hand.
“Hello?” His voice is tight, and then his face washes with relief. “Hi, Deb, yeah it’s Harrison…She was worried, so I stayed with her…No, she’s fine.”
My stomach clenches, and my hands tremble with relief.
He hands me the phone.
“Mom? What happened?”
“We’re fine, honey. We were in an accident on the way home.”
It’s all my worst fears realized, but she says they’re okay, so I can breathe.
“My phone died while we were at Roy and Tanya’s house, and I couldn’t get ahold of you,” she continues. “I’m calling from the hospital now. Dad’s waiting to see a doctor.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He hit the window pretty hard, and he’s having some shoulder pain. The paramedics didn’t seem too worried, but they said we needed to come in.”
I sit in the recliner, my legs about to go out. “When will you be home?”
“A few hours at least. It’s the emergency room, so who knows? Are you okay?”
“Harrison’s here.”
“I’m so sorry, Lauren. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
My chin starts to quiver, more because I’m so relieved that they’re okay. “I’m all right.”
“We’ll be home after a while, okay? Don’t worry anymore. We’re fine.”
I stay brave until I hang up, and then I bury my head in my hands and choke back a sob. Again, Harrison pulls me into his arms. I burrow against him, letting him comfort me.
This time, he leads me over to the couch and pulls me down with him.
“Look what I found,” he says.
There, on the screen, is the movie we talked about on the way home.
“Do you want to watch it?” he asks.
I nod, and he rubs my shoulder a moment longer before he sits back, giving me space. I pull a throw from the back of the couch, wrap it around my legs, and settle an appropriate distance away. But the whole time we watch the movie, I wish we were just a little closer.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
May 6th
I carefully unroll a section of ivory sequined material from the bolt and measure it with a yardstick. It glitters in the auditorium lights, shimmering in a subdued, classy way. I can’t wait to see it layered on the white tablecloth-covered tables in the arboretum garden.
Sitting back on my heels, I admire the stack I’ve finished. I only have five more left, and then we’ll use the remainder for the refreshment tables.
Janna had originally hoped to use a cheaper muslin for the table covers, but we saved enough with the decorations by booking the botanical gardens that we were able to afford the more expensive sequins. That, and this material won’t fray. Good thing it doesn’t because it’s a pain to sew.
Footsteps echo from behind me, but I’m too busy cutting to turn around. Hands settle on my shoulders, and then Grant leans down for a kiss. Distracted, I give him a peck and continue my work.
“How much longer are you going to be?” he asks.
I finish the cut and set my scissors aside. “Five minutes? Ten, maybe?”
“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”
Stretching, I stand up. “I’m sorry. The fabric gums up the scissors, and it’s taking longer than I expected. You can go. I’ll just have my mom pick me up.”
Grant lets out a slow sigh. “You mean Harrison.”
I set my hands on my hips. “No, I mean my mom.”
“I’m sorry, I just…” He runs a hand over his face. “Never mind.”
I’ve been nothing but faithful to Grant. Yes, it’s possible I’m still drawn to Harrison. I still feel a flutter around him. But I’ve kept my distance, given almost all of my time to Grant. Between prom and going to Grant’s games, I haven’t even posted anything other than a quick, “I’m-busy-but-I-swear-I’ll-be-back” post to my blog for over two weeks. The reason this has taken so long is because I was snapping pictures of my project with my phone for later. Even if I don’t do a video, I can write up a simple post.
Trying to ease Grant’s nerves, I say, “Listen—I’m one of Harrison’s best friend’s little sisters. He’s a little protective…he’s kind of a brat.”
He stares at a point in the auditorium, shaking his head.
I set my hand on Grant’s arm, drawing his attention back to me. In the three months we’ve dated, I’ve come to truly care about him. He’s my friend, a good friend. He’s sweet and kind, and I know he really cares about me. I don’t want him dwelling on things that were never meant to be.
When
his gaze travels back to me, I gently place my hands on his cheeks and kiss him. “I’ll finish this at home.”
I’m not sure where I’ll find enough room to work on it, but I’ll figure that out later.
Grant’s face softens, and he kisses me back. “There’s a party at Daniel’s house tonight. I told him we’d drop by.”
My stomach knots with nerves. I don’t do parties—Grant knows that. There’s nothing worse than the stale smell of too many bodies and the high-pitched giggles of random girls trying to impress the jocks. I haven’t been to a party since my sophomore year when Riley was curious. We left fifteen minutes after we got there, and we’ve never been to another one.
He gives me a look. “We’ll just drop by.”
“Or we could not.”
Grant runs a hand over my arm. “I know it’s not your thing, but these are my friends. I can’t keep blowing them off.”
Part of me is scared to see Grant at a party. Sure, he’s all “boy-next-door” here in school, but what’s he like there? What if he’s different?
“Okay,” I say slowly, already dreading it.
Grant hugs me. “It will be fun.”
I murmur an acknowledgment against his muscular chest.
After I gather my material, I follow Grant to his car. He drove me this morning, as he does most days now. My car barely leaves the driveway anymore.
“I’ll pick you up in a few hours, okay?” Grant says as I slip out of the car.
I nod, distracted. The day is warm, and the sun feels good on my shoulders. The tulips have finished blooming for the season, but the daffodils are still going strong. I should clip a few from the back of the bed and bring them into the kitchen.
Grant doesn’t leave, and when I glance back, he looks uncertain.
“Lauren?” he asks.
Leaning down, I take a closer look at the flowers. “Yeah?”
He looks nervous, which just makes me nervous. “You could wear something a little more casual.”
I glance down at my skinny jeans, heels, and sleeveless blouse. I look great if I do say so myself. What does he want me to wear? A T-shirt?
As if reading the indignation on my face, he holds up a placating hand. “No, sweetheart, you look awesome. That’s not what I mean.”
I set a hand on my hip. “What exactly do you mean then?”
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