Her nails rake gently when she loosens her hold and drags down my back to grip my hips. I press against her, my erection evidence of the way she turns me on with a simple kiss.
She frees her lips from mine with a gasp. “Wait.”
I rest my forehead on hers and catch my breath. “OK.”
“I don’t do this.”
“Babe. We aren’t doing anything, yet.” ‘Yet’ is the operative word, since my brain has already stepped into the bedroom, her naked body under mine.
“I…um…Can we stop?”
It’s enough to make a grown man cry. I lift my head and gaze into her warm, amber eyes. “Of course we can.”
She covers her face with both hands. “This is so embarrassing.”
“It’s fine.” I sit up and pull her into a sitting position with me. I keep my arm around her and kiss the top of her head.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this.” She’s deflecting. Maybe she regrets kissing me. Maybe she’s feeling awkward. Maybe I should quit guessing.
“Harper, do you mind if I ask you something personal?”
“No. What is it?”
“Have you dated anyone since…well, since your husband died?”
Harper stares at me for what seems like eternity. Inside that stare, I feel the air go still and a million emotions flicker across her face—sorrow, confusion, distrust—but I’m left knowing one thing with certainty.
This girl has been through something bad. I’ve been there, or at least in a similar situation. So I know how she needs to talk about what’s happened. I’m the last person to want to confide in people, but I did share my feelings with Josie.
I’m not going to avoid this topic. If she and I have a chance of getting to know each other better, I can’t let it go. “It’s OK to feel weird about this subject. Can we talk about it?”
She nods and laces her fingers together as if she’s about to pray. “Yeah.”
“How long has it been?”
“November. Last November.”
“You doing OK?”
“Sure,” she says, “I’m terrific. It takes time. That’s all.” She’s not terrific and I don’t expect her to be. But I’m not asking her to tell me everything. Just a little. Thing is, we’re at this crossroad where she needs to open up to me.
A left turn and I accept her answer of ‘terrific’ and drop the topic.
A right turn and she gives me more. The truth.
I ball my fist and rub my knuckles across my mouth, wondering how hard to push. I shouldn’t have pushed for the kiss. She seems more vulnerable than I’ve seen her. But last night was spectacular as far as kisses go. There’s no misinterpreting that she wanted it.
I’m selfish and don’t want to see a possibility of us fizzle away because she’s afraid. “You’re bullshitting me. I thought we were friends.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“The truth. Tell me you hate waking up every day or that you miss him or that you don’t understand why people leave us. Anything.”
“I said I was fine.” Harper looks across the sofa and at my bookshelves.
“Say you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t lie.”
Color rises in her cheeks. “Oh, as if you’re such an open book.”
“What do you want to know? More about Tori? That topic’s not my favorite.”
She narrows her eyes. “What are you writing all day?”
Not a question I expected. It sounds like a desperate plea to change the subject away from our kiss, her husband, my ex-girlfriend. “You know the answer.” My answer comes out in a patient sigh.
“I don’t know anything. Be specific.”
“Thriller. Political thriller. The story takes place following a presidential candidate who discovers a plot to take over the American government.”
“And that’s all you’re writing.”
“I write a few freelance things.”
“So much for specifics.”
“Babe, I’d bore you to tears with the details.”
“I need to tell you something,” she says, sitting straighter and looking nervous.
“You can tell me anything.”
“It’s about your writing.” She takes a deep breath and pauses. “I…”
“Yeah?”
Harper opens her mouth to continue, only to be interrupted by an insistent knocking on my door.
“Hold that thought,” I say. “It’s probably Josie.”
I get to my feet and glance at the clock. It’s half-past one. Josie must be taking a late lunch. She has a knack for interrupting me when least convenient, so this figures.
The instant I open the door, the artillery of everything that is Tori rains down on me. She stands there with her tear-stained face and her expression that screams victim.
All so calculated and cunning.
She steps into the apartment without invitation and glances from Harper to me. “We need to talk. I wouldn’t have come, but it’s a matter of life and death.”
10
Resting Bitch Face
Harper
The pop culture phrase “resting bitch face” hasn’t meant much to me until today. Leo’s ex-girlfriend has the expression down pat. As soon as she realizes he’s not alone, her face takes on this mannequin quality, molded from rigid material and meant for display purposes only.
“I was just leaving,” I say and rise from the sofa. I stoop to pick up the blanket that falls from my lap and fold it into a square. My hair is mussed and my lips swollen. I know what it must look like to the outsider.
A small and shallow part of me is glad of it. He’s been kissing me, me, me!
“You can stay.” Leo all but blocks me from moving to the door.
But Tori doesn’t change her expression. She glances at Leo. “Do you want to discuss our relationship in front of her?”
She says the pronoun ‘her’ with a curl to her lip. It’s the only change of expression she gives. For someone who has clearly been crying, she doesn’t show much emotion.
“Want me to stay?” I ask, placing a hand on Leo’s arm. His features give away everything. He doesn’t want me to leave. Is he stressed over being alone with her? What has she done to him? I have the urge to pummel her, MMA style, even though I haven’t actually been in a fight before. I never really had violent thoughts until everything came crashing down with Wesley.
His lips tighten and he exhales through his nose. “No, it’s all right. I’ll only be a minute.”
“I’m Tori,” Leo’s ex interrupts.
I turn to acknowledge her. “Harper,” I reply.
“He won’t be long. I’ll be finished with him in a while,” she says to me with a queer jab in her voice. Oh yeah. I would really like to wait for her outside and trip her down the stairs. Perhaps I should look into anger management.
“It’s not a problem,” I say, the lie falling from my lips. I step around her and make for the door.
“Harper,” Leo says to my back. I turn with my hand on the doorknob.
“Hmm?”
“I’ll see you later,” he says.
Not two minutes later, I’m inside my apartment and sitting at the island bar when I hear yelling. It’s them. I’m shocked and curious at the way sound travels. I shouldn’t be. I’m able to hear the bakery customers, so it makes sense that I can also hear across the hall.
Still, Leo is always so quiet as a neighbor that I never hear a thing from his apartment.
I make out his voice. “Get. Out.” His yell is harsh and final. “You can’t be honest now. It’s too late.” Pain weaves through the fabric of each word.
Her voice is quieter and I can’t hear her words even though I’ve wandered to stand beside my door. I imagine them though.