by Stacy M Wray
Shuffling up to the flower bed under Mr. H’s living room window, I switch the flashlight on. I bend down, plucking up weed after weed, tossing them into the bucket. I swing the light over the yard to see how many flowerbeds there are, counting a total of four.
Smiling to myself, I mumble, “You got this, girl.”
I make weed pulling my new passion for the next couple of hours, completely thankful I’m under the night sky and not a full blazing sun.
With each weed I pluck, my guilt slowly ebbs away, until it’s finally out of my system. I make my way home after the fourth bed is devoid of the pesky plants, yawning the entire walk back.
Slipping under the sheets, I fall asleep so fast that the crumpled heap of mailbox doesn’t even have time to enter my mind. There’s only a quick flash of those molten brown eyes, the eyes that I love to capture looking at me when they don’t think I’m paying attention.
Chapter Eight
Reed
July 2010
So, I picked up some extra chores. I’d do it all again. It felt damn good to own up to something and take responsibility, instead of blaming someone else. At least, tonight, I can go to bed with a clear conscience, and that feels fucking good for a change. I can’t explain this peace, this calmness that’s taken over since I’ve been on the farm. It wraps itself around me, its fingers pressing an unfamiliar aura into my very existence. I’m coming to terms with it, even liking it. It sure beats the hell out of being angry at the world. Man, that shit takes up too much energy.
That’s why this morning feels great, like I can take on anything. Even Brett told me last night on the phone that I sounded different, more mature. Yeah, whatever. I don’t need him busting my balls about it.
Mr. H gave me my phone back a couple of weeks ago. He told me I earned it. That felt damn good, too. So, I’ve caught Brett and Kylie up on everything that’s been going on. Except, for reasons I can’t quite explain, I didn’t tell them about Harper. I’m unable to understand my own reasoning. She’s just not someone I want to share with them right now. I can’t even begin to sort out what she means to me, so how can I begin to share that with someone else?
Emerging from my room at a decent hour, knowing I’ve got extra work today, I walk the familiar path to the house. The smell of cinnamon fills my nostrils. My stomach rumbles as I enter the kitchen. The cinnamon is now mixed with the sweet aroma of sugar and butter. Harper’s standing at the counter, swirling white icing along the top of a pan of cinnamon rolls. Her face lights up at the sight of me. A guy could get used to that.
“Hey, Reed.”
“Hey.” I tip my chin at the pan and say, “I could smell those as soon as I walked out my door.” I smile at her before having a seat. When she turns back around to finish icing our breakfast, I take a moment to check out her long, lean legs. Her red jean shorts barely hide a thing, making me wish like mad I could drag my hands slowly up until I reach -
“Mornin’, Reed. I see you’ve been real busy this mornin’.”
Did he just bust me checking out Harper’s legs?
“Sorry?”
He nods his head towards the yard in front. “Saw that the beds were already weeded. Couldn’t help but be real surprised by that.”
I’m just getting ready to tell him that I have no idea what he’s talking about when I notice Harper freeze, her spatula in mid-air for a moment, before finishing up the last roll.
And now, I get it.
I should be grateful, because it’s one less thing to do today. Instead, anger slowly festers inside. My muscles tense as I glare at Harper, now at the table. She places the pan in the center, unwilling to look my way.
That was my punishment, my responsibility. All the accomplishment I felt before my head hit the pillow last night has just been stolen from me, right along with my appetite. I stand quickly, almost knocking my chair over as I walk to the counter and pour myself some coffee in a to-go cup. I excuse myself quickly, mumbling about wanting to get a start on my day.
I finish my work in record time today, my anger fueling me to work twice as hard as I normally would.
Why can’t Harper mind her own business? If Mr. H finds out she did my work, well, that just makes me look like the biggest wuss. And when on earth did she find time to do it?
After my work is done and I’m back up near the house, I decide to hide away for the rest of the day at my little oasis in the woods. I’m craving nothing more than complete solitude.
Welcoming the filtered light instead of the open sun, I trudge along the now worn path, the evidence of my many visits to this jewel of a spot. The rest of the world slowly disintegrates as I slow my pace, willing myself to relax. The birds welcome me from way up in the treetops.
When I’m standing in front of the water, I feel the tension leave my shoulders. I take slow and easy breaths. The surface of the pond reflects in spots where the sun has forced its way through the canopy of leaves, creating a scene that will undoubtedly become my new go-to vision when I need to calm down. Man, I love it out here. Reaching to the back of my neck, I gather my shirt and bring it up over my head, tossing it to the ground. Unbuttoning the top of my shorts, I pull the zipper down –
“Reed!”
My name escapes her in a breathless cry.
I slowly turn around to see a flushed Harper staring at me. Her eyes go wide as they travel down my chest to the top of my undone shorts, causing things to stir below my waistband.
My newfound calmness leaves me like the air releasing from a balloon. Not the pinprick kind of slow release. I’m talking untie-the-rubber-knot-at-the-end release, air gushing out in seconds. My hands fly to my crotch, zipping my shorts back up. My eyes unable to leave Harper’s as I try to figure out what she’s doing here.
“What the hell? You’re following me now?” I growl. Anger and attraction battle it out inside my head.
She wipes the hair out of her face and I notice there’s a trail of perspiration across her forehead, her hairline damp. She’s flustered, and I’m not sure if it’s my snapping at her or the fact that my shorts were seconds from being dropped on the ground that’s caused it.
Shaking her head, she inhales deeply, as if to calm herself. “Well, yes…I guess.” She appears confused, her brows scrunching in frustration. “I just…why are you so angry with me?”
I take a couple of steps towards her. “Really? You don’t have a clue as to why?”
Her confusion now morphs into anger, her arm motioning back towards the farm. “Clearly, it has something to do with the damn flower beds. I just can’t figure out why that would piss you off so much!” Her chest rises and falls at a steady pace, probably a result of trying to catch up with me. I can’t keep my eyes off it.
Forcing my eyes to meet hers, I answer, “Why couldn’t you just let it go? That was my deal. I don’t need you fighting my battles, Harper! Jesus!” My hand sweeps through my hair out of frustration, sweat covering my fingertips.
Those plump, luscious lips purse into a rigid line, her expression tight. “It was my idea and I’m the one who took the keys. Therefore, the punishment should have rested on me. I was just trying to do the right thing, Reed.” Her voice drops, her tone much softer now. “Why don’t you get that?”
I drop my head, and my eyes close as I try to gather my thoughts. She’s the one who doesn’t get it. I’ll wager to bet she’s never been in a position like mine. Ass dropped off in the middle of nowhere because no one wants to deal with me, fighting like hell to prove myself to an old man who I’ve grown to respect. And, man, what I wouldn’t give to have his in return. I’m sure he knew it wasn’t all on me, but I want Mr. H to regard me as someone he can trust, not someone who is going to let someone else take the blame or the consequences for me.
Lifting my head, my eyes lock with hers. The penetration of her stare leaves me feeling invaded, like she’s gazing into my inner thoughts. It’s unnerving. But then, her eyes get big, as if she’s just stumbled upon the bi
ggest revelation. That’s when I know she does.
She gets it.
Stepping forward, she places her petite hand on the center of my bare chest. The contact feels amazing as I suck in my breath. “I’m sorry, Reed. I didn’t mean to interfere.” Her hand travels up, her index finger landing gently in the cleft of my chin. I make the mistake of glancing down at her mouth, her lips parted, just waiting to be taken.
All thoughts have left my head. All reason out the door. Amnesia takes over, my memory temporarily disposing of the promise I made to Mr. H. My hands sweep up her delicate jaw, cradling the back of her head as my lips crush hers.
I take that kiss like a thief that’s been waiting for just the right moment. I steal from her what I’ve wanted since the day my eyes landed on that mouth. And I’m not gentle. Playing out every fantasy I’ve ever had in my head of tasting these lips, I frantically suck, my tongue entering her mouth without waiting for permission. I bite and nibble, pulling her bottom lip with my teeth, sucking it into my mouth as long as she’ll allow it. And she does. She gives it to me, unlike anyone I’ve ever kissed before. No one holds a candle to Harper’s lips, to her kiss, to her compliance. Never in my life have I been so turned on from a single kiss. The small noises coming from the back of her throat have me so hard. I’m almost in actual pain.
My lungs screaming for air forces me to break apart from her, both of us panting. I press my forehead to hers, our eyes still locked. “Jesus, Harper…you are…that was fucking amazing.”
I almost feel bad for how swollen her lips appear. But when they turn up at the ends, flashing me a smile that I’m not ever likely to forget, my guilt leaves me as fast as it crept up. I don’t regret the intensity we just shared. Not even a little bit. My fingertips graze the shape of her mouth, barely touching the softness of her skin, tantalizing, begging for more. I lean down, this time delicately sweeping my lips across hers.
“You’re amazing,” she whispers. I’m so unaccustomed to hearing those words that it knocks me into the present. And Mr. H’s words flood my head so fast the guilt nearly knocks me on my ass.
She’s only fifteen, Reed.
I want your word, son.
And I realize that I’ve just opened Pandora’s box of hope, knowing this can’t happen. I’m leaving soon, going back to Chicago. Mr. H was right – this will only hurt her.
I’m such a selfish prick.
My hands drop from her face, and I take a step back, unable to meet her eyes.
“Reed?” Her hands fall to her sides because of my movement. My eyes are now focused on them, and I can tell they don’t know what to do with themselves.
Still unable to meet her eyes, I hardly recognize my hoarse voice as I force the words out. “We can’t do this, Harper.”
She grabs my hand, compelling me to look at her. Lifting my eyes to meet hers, I can’t help but notice a sheen on them that wasn’t there a few seconds ago. “What do you mean? Why would you say that?”
God, Harper. You deserve the world, not a piece of shit like me.
“I’m gone in a couple of weeks, Harper. What would be the point?”
She puts on a brave face, jutting her chin at me. “I don’t care, Reed. We’ll deal with that when it comes.”
Shaking my head, I tell her, “Knowing there’s no future, it would feel like I’m using you. That’s not something I’m willing to do.”
Her eyes narrow as she crosses her arms. “Would you? Would you really be using me?”
I shrug, claiming indifference. I hope she drops it, even if it pisses her off. I tell myself that it’s better this way. For both of us.
Not being able to witness the hurt in her eyes, I turn away like the coward I am. I wish like hell I had met her at my high school. But life’s never that easy. At least, not for me. The last thing I want to do is hurt her. Mr. H was right, as usual, calling this exactly how it would go. But her level of hurt can’t be that major. It was only a kiss – and damn, what a kiss it was. And now, it’s stopped, nipped in the bud before it gets out of hand. We can continue to be friends until it’s time for me to leave.
If it’s supposed to be that easy, then why do I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut with steel-toed boots worn by a colossal giant?
Chapter Nine
Harper
August 7-13, 2010
Aries Horoscope: Aggressive energy is on the rise, cooperation and patience are low, and family is the first and safest place for you to express your frustrations. Romance may be a bit challenging this week for some of you IF you are not careful. Be tactful and take your time when communicating if you are paired to Libra, Virgo, Cancer, Leo, other Rams, or Aquarius. People may enter or leave your life, but that doesn’t mean they are there to stay or gone for good. Always keep the window of opportunity open.
Never has a horoscope been so dead on. A shiver slowly trembles up and down my spine as I read the last two lines. I’m hunched over the small section I confiscated from the newspaper a few days ago, dreading today more than anything. It’s a Friday and my last day to see Reed at Mr. H’s. This whole week has felt like someone has punched through my chest and wrapped their greedy little fingers around my heart, squeezing and twisting it with every opportunity that arose.
Ever since our kiss by the pond, Reed has done his damnedest to make sure we aren’t alone. Part of me recognizes this as a positive, knowing he doesn’t trust himself around me because he’s just as attracted to me as I am to him. I know this because I see the longing in his eyes when I catch him staring, at times of weakness when he lets his guard down. But the other part of me lets the hurt seep in, not understanding why he wouldn’t want to spend as much time with me as possible before he leaves.
And it hurts.
Deep.
My stomach clenches every single time I think of that kiss. I’ve only kissed two guys. Guys who knew nothing about the art of kissing. I know this because after experiencing Reed and his lips on mine, I realize I never want to be kissed by anyone ever again. I know that sounds stupid, illogical even, but everyone from here on out will always be compared to that kiss, and I know each one will come up short every time. I was ready to surrender myself to him completely, never in my life feeling the way I did, leaving me wondering if the aching between my legs was even normal.
And then, he said the words that sent me reeling, insisting we couldn’t be together like that.
Sometimes I get so angry when I think about it. Who gave him the power to decide what’s best for me? Maybe, I don’t care if I’m being used as long as he keeps kissing me that way. Would I care? Maybe. After he had left. But it doesn’t matter, I guess, because he made that decision for the both of us, ignoring my feelings or say in the process.
He leaves tomorrow. I hate the devastation I feel. This has been the best summer of my life. How am I supposed to function knowing Reed isn’t sleeping across the street anymore?
Trying to ignore the lump forming in my throat, I fold the paper into fourths and tuck it away in the pocket of my shorts. I note the time on the display on the stove. I’ve got to get over to Mr. H’s and pretend like it’s just another day.
How good are your acting skills, Harper?
As soon as I step outside, the moisture in the air hits me like a tornado-propelled gust. The heavy air clings to my skin and clothes instantly. Yuck! This is one of the things I hate about Indiana – humidity. I can hardly breathe, the stale air sticking to my lungs like glue.
Holding the hair off the back of my neck, I slip the hairband from my wrist and twist it around the mass of locks in my hand. I feel a bit of relief as I continue the trek to Mr. H’s house. Letting myself in the screen door, I instantly notice the squeak is gone. The springs no longer yell their opinion of how it feels to be fully stretched out, completely throwing me off kilter. Did Reed fix that? My stomach plummets, not liking the change. Every time I heard that sound, I equated it with happiness, knowing there was a fifty/fifty chance it would be Reed stepp
ing through that door.
It’s quiet in the house. Since I already had my morning coffee, I decide to get started on the laundry. It doesn’t take me long to gather it, stuff it into the washer, and close the lid. I start to walk towards the mudroom to get some cleaning supplies when I hear voices. It’s not the usual chit-chat that takes place around Mr. H’s kitchen table. The tones sound serious, causing me to walk hesitantly, gently, not wanting to make my presence known. My head leans toward the conversation in hopes of hearing better. Yes, I’m eavesdropping and I’m totally okay with it.
I hear what sounds like a piece of paper being slid across the table.
“Open it, son.” Mr. H and Reed are at the table.
The crunch of paper being torn fills my ears as I hold my breath, wanting to hear every detail.
“What’s this?” Reed asks, his words saturated with disbelief.
“It’s yours. You earned it.”
A pause of about five seconds takes place. “I don’t understand. I thought I was working here as punishment, not for wages.”
My eyebrows shoot up, a feeling of joy bursting through me for this unexpected gift being given to Reed. He has earned it. My love for Mr. H has just skyrocketed through the roof. I already thought he was being overly generous with my earnings, especially since he was paying me ‘under the table,’ so to speak. He said Uncle Sam didn’t need my money as much as I did. I have socked away almost three thousand dollars this summer. I haven’t spent one penny of it, saving it all for college.
“Reed, nobody works on my farm, especially as hard as you did, for free. That would make me a horrible human bein’.”
More silence ensues when Reed speaks up again. “But this check is for four thousand dollars.”
