“I know,” he smiled, pleased with himself. “I'm just giving you a hard time.”
“Well, thanks for that,” I laughed. “Since we've established you're not stalking me, what are you doing out here?” I wondered, my cadence peaking a little as I tried to make light of the situation.
Harlow crouched down in front of me. “Well,” he whispered with an all-business expression on his face, “I’ve never told anyone this before, but I come out here a lot—”
With a skeptical stare, I whispered back, “Why are you whispering?”
He shrugged, dropping his serious demeanor in an instant. “No reason. Dramatic effect. Did it work?”
I shook my head. “Not really,” I smirked. “So I found your place!” I announced victoriously, my smirk spreading into a grin as I surveyed the area.
“That you did,” he acknowledged. “In fact, I’m even willing to negotiate an agreement for shared custody.”
I gave him a sideways glance. “Sarcasm, right?” I asked, just to be on the safe side.
Harlow chuckled. “I’ll let you know when I decide,” he said as he sat down beside me, leaning into my shoulder to examine what I was working on.
Harlow's casual, close proximity sent a rush of nerves through me. He radiated of autumn; a woodsy, musky scent, like after a night rain.
“Calculus,” I answered to his silent question.
Harlow ground his teeth together in dislike. “Not my forte.”
“Ditto.”
“I can leave if I’m bothering you. I wouldn’t want you to flunk calc on account of me,” he joked.
I giggled. “I think I can fail calc without your help. And, I could use a break.”
His eyebrows rose in a playful manner at that.
I shut my math book and shifted to face him. “Do you always lurk around the woods on the weekends? Or have you actually been hiding out here since what, Wednesday?” I teased because I hadn't seen him at school the past few days.
Harlow stiffened at the joke and something I couldn't quite discern flickered in his eyes. Thinking I might have unintentionally offended him, I was about to apologize when he quipped back, “I could ask you the same.”
“I’m not lurking or hiding. I’m studying!” I defended myself matter-of-factly.
“Nah,” Harlow said, his tone somber. “I just come out here to clear my head sometimes. That and I have an unfortunate connection to this place this time of year.” Before I had the chance to ask, he elaborated. “My parents died out here a few years ago.”
My heart sank at his words. “I’m so sorry, Harlow,” I said, touching his arm—an act so unconscious that I didn’t realize my hand had ever even moved until his eyes dropped to it on his sleeve.
“Thanks,” he replied with subtle gratitude. Scratching the back of his head, he continued, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dampen the mood.”
“No, no it’s fine!” I assured him, still taken aback by the news. “I don’t mean to pry,” I began, “but you’re not as new in town as some people think, are you?” I asked. “I never got a chance to mention it, but you and Ivy already know each other, don't you?”
“Guilty. I spent many summers here as a kid. My life whether it was here or in Canada was kept pretty secluded. Ivy lived down the street from my grandparents at the time and she was the only kid I was allowed to play with. For the longest time I didn’t think much of it. I guess I thought there just weren’t a lot of kids in Harbor Glenn. But as I got older, it not only became clearer how small of a town this place really is, but also why I was only allowed to be friends with Ivy. What about you?”
“What about me?” I asked repeating his words.
“Have you always lived in Harbor Glenn?”
“Yes,” I said with false enthusiasm. “Sometimes I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.”
“Normally I’d ask what you mean, but I know this place well enough. I get it.”
I smiled in response. During a lull in conversation, it occurred to me that Harlow had attended initiation night too and that maybe he could shed some light on my current dilemma. “This might sound weird…” I began, feeling the knot tighten in my stomach, “but can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what’s up?” he asked, seeming interested.
My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to find the right words so I wouldn't sound like a complete nutcase. “It’s kind of about the other night…”
“The bonfire?” Harlow clarified.
“Yeah, the bonfire. What did Rider tell you about what happened to me anyway?”
Harlow seemed hesitant to answer at first. “Uh, really all he said was that you got lost out here and that there seemed to be some miscommunication about the situation among your friends. Why do you ask?”
I resented the bit about being lost. I knew the woods well enough to avoid getting lost. “Because when we talked the other day you asked me if I was feeling okay.”
Harlow's expression turned muddled. “Should I not have?”
“No, never mind,” I said, shaking my head. “I guess it makes sense.”
“Is that what’s bothering you? You’re upset Rider told me?” he asked with genuine concern.
“No, not at all!” I lied, feigning surprise at the assumption. After a beat, I asked, “So, you wouldn’t happen to know how I got home would you?”
Harlow studied me, his stare measured. “No,” he said cautiously. “I didn’t see you again after our initial meeting. Maybe I’m misunderstanding you, but are you suggesting that you don’t know how you got home that night?”
His reaction made me rethink my decision to be honest. I leaned my head back against the tree and stared up at the treetops, avoiding eye contact. “Maybe,” I sighed, irritated with myself. “I don’t know how to explain it, I guess.” And I didn't. My memories of that night were so fragmented that it seemed increasingly impossible to piece them back together. “Forget I asked.”
“You know this kind of thing can happen when you drink too much,” Harlow commented.
Had he seen me with the drink Bethany had given me that night? Instead of asking, I responded with a silent glare.
Harlow raised his hands so they were level with his shoulders. “I’m not judging.”
Having humiliated myself enough for one day, I picked up my calculus book and started to get up. I wouldn’t get any work done here with Harlow around distracting me anyways. “I should head home,” I explained. “My parents can be basket cases.”
“Hey! Don’t get lost!” he called after me.
chapter three
DALYN COUGHED AND GAGGED DRAMATICALLY AS she maneuvered around me at the bottom of the stairs.
“Phew! I think you need to wash that,” she complained, making a disgusted face at my coat.
I glared at her as I slid my left arm through the sleeve of my peacoat. “Why? Can’t stand the smell of life beyond these walls?”
“Girls knock it off,” Dad grumbled, craning his neck from his place in the recliner, doing a double take when he noticed me getting ready to leave. “Where are you going on a Thursday night?”
“Out. Mom already said I could.”
He grumbled for a second time before returning his attention to the T.V.
A short time later, the headlights of Lacey’s blue Toyota Camry glinted through the front window as she pulled into the driveway. “See ya!” I called over my shoulder and hurried out of the house, slamming the door behind me.
Outside of school, most of the activities Harbor Glenn had to offer took place outdoors: hiking, biking, fishing or canoeing. And for the less outdoorsy, the shops and cafe’ Bleu on Washington Street, Harbor Glenn’s less than impressive downtown area, were the best places to go. You could see a movie at the Cinemagic, or hang out with the forty-something's and their pre-teens at the bowling alley. My friends and I preferred to hang out at the small pizza joint, located at the end of the street, called Beach’s Pizzeria.
Lacey drove us to
Beach’s where we sat at a red booth tucked in the back corner of the dimly lit restaurant. In honor of its name, Beach’s featured none other than a beach theme. Black and white photographs of surfers, palm trees, and beach landscapes lined the exposed brick walls. On the wall behind the bar, which also served as the pickup counter for carry-out orders, hung a red surfboard. Aside from a few red booths, the rest of the dining area was furnished with wooden tables and chairs.
“Pepperoni?” Lacey suggested as we sat down.
“Do you even have to ask?” I agreed with a smile.
After placing our order, Lacey babbled on and on about our teachers and classmates. “Did you see what Kristin Weaver wore yesterday? How she got away with that outfit without the administration stepping in is beyond me. She should be suspended on grounds of that gaudy necklace alone. And can you believe Aria signed up for advanced chem–” she stopped short—something behind me capturing her attention. She kept shifting in her seat trying to look around me. I didn’t turn around because I didn’t want to stare. Lacey, however, had no shame in doing so. She caught me off guard when she grinned and waved.
Peeking over my shoulder, I expected to find Arianna or Rider, but to my surprise, Harlow stood near the bar with another guy that I didn't recognize. I smiled, acknowledging him. We hadn't talked at any real length since our run-in in the woods last weekend, so it was nice to see him again outside of school. “Stop,” I whispered in a warning tone as I turned back to face Lacey. Sometimes she knew just how to embarrass me and more often than not, I was convinced she did it on purpose.
Lacey glanced at me for half a second before her eyes glided back over to Harlow. “Stop what?” she asked in a dreamy tone.
“Stop staring!”
Meeting my eyes, she said, “Oh come on, I’m sure he’s used to people ogling him. I can’t help that I have a weakness for hot men.”
I laughed. “You don’t just have a weakness for hot men, Lace, try all men.”
Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she bounced a little in her seat. “They’re coming over here!” she beamed at me, clapping her hands together.
“Breathe!” I instructed her. But instead, I could have sworn I heard her squeal.
“Hey, Rayna. Lacey,” Harlow greeted us while his acquaintance stood beside him with a pizza box in hand, radiating quiet confidence. “Long time no see,” Harlow commented, meeting my gaze with a coy smile.
Across the table, Lacey’s eyes all but popped out of her head at the remark as she sat with her chin resting on the back of her hand. “Who’s your friend?” she inquired, circling her index finger at Harlow’s companion.
It wasn’t until she mentioned him that I caught Harlow’s acquaintance staring at me. His brown eyes bore into me, cold and hard, in a way that made me feel transparent. So I shifted my gaze to my fingernails and started picking at them.
After a beat, he spoke. “Nick,” he introduced himself, nodding to each of us in turn before Harlow could speak on his behalf.
“My brother.”
The resemblance between Harlow and Nick struck me. They shared many of the same facial features which made it easy to discern that they were related. Nick had gelled his short, dirty blond hair. He was leaner than Harlow but still muscular. The biggest difference between the two was Nick’s demeanor. He came across stern and strong with a sort of foreboding semblance. He intimidated me though I tried not to let on.
“I guess it’s safe to assume the pizza here is decent,” Harlow remarked, making small talk.
“Better than decent,” I replied still somewhat distracted. Something seemed off about Nick that I couldn’t quite place. I became so consumed in thought that I didn’t realize I was now the one staring.
Nick looked at me again, and as our eyes met, my body jolted a little. My mind stretched and pulled trying to find recognition; every fiber of my being tingled, alerting me that I knew those eyes, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t make the connection.
“Whoa, Ray, what the hell is wrong with you?” Lacey asked, leaning forward against the table.
I flushed crimson, “Nothing,” I replied, directing my attention to the man tossing dough behind the counter at the front of the restaurant.
Lacey took it upon herself to break the silence. “So, Harlow, what brings you and your family to the H-G?” she continued, diverting the awkward situation to my relief—even though I distinctly remembered her asking him this question at lunch at some point during our first week.
“We'd hate to bore you with that story right, Harlow?” Nick answered for his brother, clapping him on the shoulder and I detected a hint of annoyance in Nick’s tone that implied he wouldn’t be discussing the subject further.
“Well, you bring a nice change of scenery for us locals,” Lacey chuckled as our pizza arrived. Harlow and Nick scooted out of the way so our waiter could set down the hot tray.
“Pepperoni,” Harlow remarked. “Nice choice. We’ll let you eat. See you around,” he added, meeting my gaze. After a second of eye contact, Harlow turned his back to us, following his brother toward the exit.
Lacey dug right in, and I followed her lead, allowing my mind to ignore the oddity I had just witnessed. Despite the fragment of insight Harlow had revealed to me about his childhood here, family matters, as I knew well enough, were never an outsider’s business regardless of the Harbor Glenn rumor mill.
Not a second later, Lacey's cell phone chimed, to the right of her plate, alerting her to a new text message. Flipping the phone over, she read the message on the screen. “Harlow, wait up!” Lacey called out.
Nick grumbled something about waiting by the car as Harlow trotted back to our table.
“Looks like Rider's decided to throw a party. You're on the group text too,” she added as if she thought I might be feeling left out.
“My phone is in the bottom of my bag.”
“You guys should come,” Harlow smiled, his eyes flicking to Lacey’s face.
“I wonder what he's celebrating.” Lacey laughed.
Examining the text, Harlow shrugged. “He didn’t say.”
I shook my head, amused. “Oh come on, Rider would throw a party for his neighbor’s cat if he got booze out of it,” I teased.
Harlow’s dark eyebrows quirked up. “Will you be there?”
I looked at Lacey for an answer.
“No pressure,” he added, his eyes landing on mine as he spoke.
“Hell yes!” Lacey grinned.
Harlow smiled in return. “Great! Then I'll look for you guys at Rider's this weekend.”
My gaze followed after Harlow as he hurried off to catch up with his brother, who I could see from the window had already made it to their car in the parking lot. Nick’s body language implied impatience as he waited for Harlow to unlock the passenger door of an old Vista Cruiser. Harlow slid into the driver’s side, so I assumed the car belonged to him. As I watched them, my vision blurred, fading to black and when I blinked, I was no longer in the booth at Beach’s.
Darkness enveloped me making it impossible to see anything. My body remained stationary though I could feel myself being propelled forward at a steady speed. Thunder boomed overhead and rain pattered against the exterior of the confined space while a faint melody that I couldn’t quite make out lingered in the air around me.
Car interior, I thought.
“Rayna!” I heard someone call out. “Rayna!” The voice grew louder.
I blinked again and found myself back in the pizzeria. Lacey stared at me with a muddled expression on her face.
“What’s the matter with you? You’re acting so weird tonight,” she complained.
“Nothing, I spaced out,” I told her, casting my gaze to the window to find that Harlow and the Vista Cruiser were gone.
“You like him,” she taunted me, tearing my attention from the window.
“Wait, what?” I asked, still trying to find my bearings.
“Oh come on! Harlow,” she repeated
, “you like him!”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I mean he’s a nice guy.”
Lacey rolled her eyes unconvinced. “No, Ray, I mean you like him like him,” she emphasized trying to fish for an admission out of me.
My eyes narrowed at her assumption. “I do not! You,” I emphasized the word, “like him.”
“So you’re saying you have no interest in him? He’s free for my taking?” she asked, and the skepticism in her tone did not go unnoticed.
“He’s all yours.”
Lacey made a face at me. “You don’t sound like you mean that.”
I cleared my throat. “I mean it. Sorry, I’m just a little–never mind…” my voice trailed away, not willing to share my distractions.
“Well get your head in the game!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “We need to talk plans for Rider’s party this weekend!” she beamed, reaching for her cell phone. “I sense a shopping trip in our near futures.”
After spending nearly three hours in the mall with Lacey the following night, I felt well enough prepared for Rider’s party.
When Saturday night rolled around, Lacey was on a mission. “Remember what I said?” Lacey asked again.
“If I run into Harlow before you do, I casually mention your name,” I repeated for the hundredth time that night.
“Right! But you have to be discreet about it. I don’t want to come off as desperate.”
“And do you remember what I said? We have to be out of here at a reasonable hour,” I reminded her as we headed into Rider’s backyard.
“I heard you the last ten times, Rayna,” Lacey groaned. “Need I remind you that you do live within walking distance?”
She did have a point. My house sat a block away on Addison Avenue. The well-to-do, with the exception of Rider’s family, lived on Asher while everyone else lived west of Washington Street. “Ladies!” Rider called out as soon as he caught sight of us entering the yard. He lived in a massive, brick house that backed up to the forest. “No Aria?” he asked, sounding a little disappointed.
“She’s got a babysitting gig,” Lacey shouted over the blaring rock music.
Iron Moon Page 4
