With each passing second, my nerves knot tighter—and I’m pretty sure Marcus senses this, because he’s throwing smirks my direction as he navigates the neighborhood.
Finally, we pull up in front of Harper’s driveway. I sit frozen, hand on the door handle.
“You got this, bruh.” Deshaun slaps my shoulder from the back seat withwaytoo much confidence for someone who’s not about to walk up to her door himself.
“Thanks.” I don’t feel like I got this.
I push the Jeep door open before I can doubt myself again. The air outside is crisp, but it doesn’t do much to cool the heat crawling up my neck. The guys are still watching, which makes it worse.
I don’t need an audience for this.
Marcus rolls down his window. “You sure you don’t want us to wait? In case she slams the door in your face?”
I shoot him a glare over my shoulder. “Go home.”
Raking a hand through my hair, I do my best to shake off the nerves in my gut, forcing my feet forward. Up the porch steps. One deep breath, then one knock.
The house is quiet. Behind the door, there’s a shuffle, the sound of heavy footsteps moving closer.
Then.
The door swings open, and Harper’s dad stands framed by thedim hallway light, his broad shoulders filling the space like a barricade.
His gaze lands on me, sharp and assessing, and my stomach drops, despite the fact that he seems friendly and not like he’s about to bite my head off.
Shit.
I clear my throat, shifting awkwardly under his scrutiny. “Uh. Hi, Mr.Conrad.”
“Can I help you?”
Crap, that’s right—I’ve met her mom at school things before but not her dad. I introduce myself awkwardly. “I’m Easton Westermann. A friend of Harper’s.” I clear my throat, nervous enough to crap my pants. “Is she home?”
After a brief pause, he nods. “Upstairs in her bedroom. You can go up if you want.”
“Really?”
Dang. I’m not allowed to have girls in my room, even though I’ve never had the opportunity to have girls in my room.
“Sure. Just keep the door open.”
For a second, I just stand there, thrown off by how chill he is about this.
“Uh—thanks,” I say, hesitating before stepping inside.
Mr.Conrad nods, already turning toward the kitchen like he has better things to do than interrogate the guy showing up unannounced for his daughter. It’s weird. I don’t know what I expected—maybe a warning, maybe adon’t try anythingstare—but this? An open invitation to gallivant up to Harper’s bedroom?
I step into the house, shutting the door behind me as I move toward the stairs.
I shouldn’t be nervous.
It’s not like I haven’t been alone with Harper before. But something about climbing the stairs to her bedroom feels way more intimate than hanging with her in the garage.
I find her door, knowing which one it is by the pink heart taped to it.
Cute.
Girlie.
