Me
Good. Because I don’t plan on pretending that last night didn’t mean something.
I absolutely meant it.
Every word.
Every stroke of my lips against hers.
Even if it scares the hell out of me.
Her reply is simple.
Harper
Have a good flight.
I glance out the window at the runway lights, my heart still back at her place.
Me
I will. Text you when we land?
Harper
I’ll be waiting.
I close my eyes, phone warm in my hand, and let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—this really is the beginning of something she won’t walk away from again.
Our first night was hell.None of us slept very well, but thankfully all we had yesterday after we got into Pittsburgh was a quick practice. This morning’s skate leaves my legs burning and my head foggy, but the second I peel off my gloves, I reach for my phone like it’s muscle memory. I texted Harper yesterday when we landed but didn’t get to talk to her much at all. I’ve had no text from her yet today, but I check anyway.
Still nothing.
I run the towel over my damp hair, one corner of my mouth lifting as I tap my thumb against the side of my phone. The screen lights up, blank and waiting for me to make the first move.
Me
You alive back there, Richardson?
I barely finish drying off from my shower before my phone buzzes.
Harper
Barely. Connor woke me up at 6 to remind me I’m “basically famous now.”
I laugh out loud, drawing a look from Oliver and August.
Me
Did he tell everyone I kissed his mom again?
Watching the three dots dance across the screen fills me with a sense of joy I didn’t expect.
Harper
Literally everyone…for like, the third time. Including his coach.
I wince and then grin, my thumbs flying as I type out my response.
