We sat on the aluminum bleachers that had been set up for the inaugural regatta next week after the Halloween Festival. The rowing crew was out of sight, around a bend in the Bend. Their coaches stood on the dock several yards ahead of us, stopwatches in hand, as they watched and waited.
“We’re here to support my boyfriend and our friend,” I said, shielding my eyes and looking out over the bay. “It’ll be Tucker’s first regatta as a senior and Xander’s first for CHA. It’s a big deal.”
“Hm,” Harper said noncommittally.
“You mean to tell me you aren’t having fun, wasting your afternoon freezing your booty off out here with me?”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “More fun than I can handle. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
“What secret?”
“That the glamorous Emery Wallace is actually kind of a dork.”
I giggled and gave her a playful nudge. I’d been hanging out with Harper a lot over the past six weeks, and it shamed me to admit that it had taken nearly all of those six weeks to not feel self-conscious about it. As if it were a crime against humanity to be friendly with a Bend kid. Not just friendly but friends. A mismatched sort of friendship: she was slow to share too many personal details, while I spilled my guts at the least provocation.
“Speaking of wasting afternoons,” Harper said, “shouldn’t you be studying for your calc midterm?”
“Ugh. Buzzkill, Bennett.”
She smirked. “You have three tutoring sessions per week with Xander. He has to know what he’s doing; he probably learned this stuff in kindergarten.”
In another bold step toward being a better human, I stopped hiding that Xander was tutoring me. I wanted to walk away from all the usual peer-pressure bullshit and be my own person. Baby steps, for sure, but it was better than standing still.
“Is he a bad teacher?” Harper was saying. She gave me a sly look. “Or are you using your tutoring time for something else…?”
“What? No,” I said quickly. “We do the math. Or we try. I just like talking to him more.”
“What happens if you fail?” she asked, huddling deeper in her coat against the late October chill.
“I don’t want to think about it,” I said, and gave a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold air.
“I don’t like it, Em,” Harper said. “There has to be something you can do to go to the school you want, where you want, instead of whatever terrible plans your dad has for you. From everything you’ve told me, he sounds…”
“Like a tyrant?” I smiled wryly. “You’re not wrong. And there is a way out. Maybe.”
“Let’s hear it.”
I glanced at her sideways. Harper was trustworthy. She could’ve spilled the tea about Jack’s bonfire incident and never did.
“Xander said he’d marry me.”
Harper’s eyelids fluttered. “I beg your pardon.”
I told Harper about how I’d applied to UCLA on the sly weeks ago and the text and conversation with Xander that followed.
“It wouldn’t be a real marriage. Just to detach from my parents’ money. Detach from them altogether maybe.” The thought was a perfect blend of euphoria, sadness, and fear. I bit my lip. “No, no, it’s crazy…right?”
Harper cocked her head. “Is it, though? Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Her brown eyes twinkled. “So what did you say when Xander asked you to marry him?”
I glared at her and ignored the flock of butterflies that took off in my stomach at her particular choice of words. “He didn’tpropose.He just offered it as an option.”
“That’s generous of him.”
“It’s more than generous. It’s so sweet that he’d be willing to do that for me.”
“But…?”
“I can’t getmarried, Harper. For one thing, I don’t turn eighteen until March. That’s a long way away.”
