She takes a deep breath, her chest heaving with the effort. “At the Sig Chi party.”
Realization dawns and I drop her hand, studying her face more closely as I try my damnedest to put the pieces of my broken memory back together. “You’re—”
“Red,” she finishes, nodding her head.
“But—”
And, okay, maybe I’m in shock, because I can’t seem to finish a sentence. None of this makes sense. It’s insane. The odds have got to be…astronomical.
And that’s why they call it fate.
Harper dips her chin and glances down at her hands, which are clasped in her lap. “I should’ve been honest with you from the beginning, but you didn’t recognize me, and I was too afraid to tell you the truth.” She straightens her spine and looks me in the eye. “I’m sorry. I just…I didn’t want you to hate me, even if I deserved it. I was a coward.”
“I can’t believe it.” I rake my hands through my hair. “All this time. You were right in front of me and I didn’t recognize you.” Disgust curls my lip. “Could I be a bigger asshole?”
“Hey, you’ve been through a lot with the concussion,” she says, resting a hand on my bicep. Her touch is light, soothing even. “You said yourself a lot of things about that night were fuzzy.” She pauses, the corner of her lips twitching. “Plus, I didn’t have my awesome red hair.”
“I did like that hair,” I admit grudgingly as I process her words. “Wait. Why did you think I’d hate you?”
Harper flinches, and I’m immediately on guard. What else hasn’t she told me? What else have I forgotten about that night?
“Because of…everything,” she says, gesturing to my leg. “You lost your scholarship because of me, Chase. I’m the idiot who told you to go up on that roof to get my shoe. If I hadn’t, none of this would’ve ever happened. Because ofme, you broke your leg, lost your scholarship, and are facing months of PT just to get back on your feet. How could younothate me?”
I shake my head in disbelief. For a Ravenclaw, her logic makes zero sense.
How could she possibly think any of this is her fault? Or worse, that I’d blame her. It was an accident. One that could have been avoided if I weren’t such a dumbass—as Coach so helpfully pointed out—but an accident nonetheless.
“Harper, none of this is your fault. You didn’t make me go up on that roof,” I say, twisting to take both of her hands in mine. There’s a sharp jolt of pain from my leg as I reposition myself, but I push through because there are bigger issues at hand than my comfort level. “I chose to climb that drainpipe because I was too fucking proud to walk away from a drunken dare. I was the idiot, Harper, not you.”
The corner of her mouth twists and she pulls her brows low, wholly unconvinced.
“I admit I wanted to impress you. I was hoping to get your number.” Still am, but we’ll get to that part later. “But I didn’t go up there because you told me to get your sandal. I went up there because I wanted to prove to those Sig assholes—to myself—that I was just as good as they are, Harper.”
Her mouth falls open, forming a perfect O. “That’s crazy, Chase. You don’t have anything to prove to anyone,” she says fiercely, passion blazing in her eyes. And damn if my chest doesn’t swell with pride. This girl. How could she ever think I’d hate her? “You’re one of the sweetest, funniest, most thoughtful guys I know.”
“And I’ve got great legs,” I say, winking at her.
“Your humility knows no bounds.” A smile curves her heart-shaped lips as she reaches up to cup my cheek. Her fingers brush against my heated flesh and anticipation races down my spine, settling low in my gut. “The point is, you’re a great guy and any woman would be lucky to have you.”
“Even a Ravenclaw?” I ask, voice raw with desire.
“Especiallya Ravenclaw.” She holds my gaze and I see my own desire mirrored in her eyes, a white-hot need just begging to be unleashed.
I’m not sure which of us moves first. Hell, maybe we both do. One second we’re making sex eyes at each another, the next our mouths are crashing together, a desperate mating of lips and tongues.
I’ve only known Harper for a week, but it feels like a lifetime as the dam of restraint comes crashing down. She tastes like coffee and chocolate and it just might be my new favorite flavor combination, because as her tongue slides against mine, there’s no doubt I could do this all day. She’s warm, and soft, and I’ve been fantasizing about this moment from the first time she stepped into my hospital room with her killer curves and surplus of snark.
When we finally break apart—because breathing—Harper’s cheeks are pink and she looks thoroughly kissed, if I do say so myself.
“So,” she says, smoothing a stray curl. I swear I didn’t touch her hair, but there are a few more loose curls than there were when she first came outside. Although she looks adorable, I doubt Nurse Rogers would approve.
“So,” I say, inspiration striking. “If I want to keep my Prince Charming title, I need to do this right.”
I grab my duffel from under the bench and unzip it. I dig around and find what I’m looking for on the bottom of the bag.
“Your right foot, milady.” I affect my best British accent and gesture for her to put her foot in my lap. I don’t have a clue if Prince Charming is British, but whatever, it’s not like I’m being graded on historical accuracy. Harper giggles and kicks off her clog. Then she repositions herself on the bench so I can slip the sandal on over her sock. It slides on easily, and I do my best to buckle the little strappy things so it’s somewhat presentable. “What do you know? It’s a perfect fit, just like us.”
Harper giggles again, and I swear I’ll never get tired of hearing her laugh. “Is this the part where we run off and live happily ever after?”
