I mean, let’s be real. How often do boys show up at my house unannounced? Answer:Never.I’m not the kind of girl who has guys hanging around, stopping by, or messaging me all day long. My phone isn’t constantly blowing up with notifications, and I’ve never been the girl guyspursue.
But tonight?
Easton is here. In my house. Knocking on my bedroom door.
I am not letting this thrill go to waste.
I want to know what it’s like to be that kind of girl.
Easton lurks outside the door. I can hear his feet shuffling against the carpet.
“Hey. Harper?” I realize with horror that he’s not just knocking—he’s actually trying the door handle. “Is everything okay?”
“Don’t come in!” I shout, immediately regretting the volumeof my voice. This is every bad dream I’ve ever had in the history of bad dreams coming true all at once, minus the dream where I’m naked in front of my AP English class.
He jiggles the door handle again.
I am seriously going to kill him.
“Would you at least say something?” He pauses. “I know you’re in there.”
“I’m fine!” I lie, my volume increasing ninety decibels. “Just give me a second!”
In a desperate attempt to salvage what little dignity I have left, I dash to the closet, yank open the door, and grab the first thing I see—an oversized hoodie. Brilliant, right?
Wrong.
I try pulling it over my dress, but it’s a disaster from the start. I immediately get stuck, thrashing like a trapped animal, trying not to snag the dress fabric, instead managing to tangle myself in the hoodie’s arms.
Oh, and the hoodie is dirty. And it smells. I kind of want to just curl up and die inside it, a shell of the woman I was ten minutes ago.
“Harper, seriously, what’s going on?” Easton’s voice drips with concern now, which only makes everything so much worse. “Do you need help?”
Has he never heard of a little thing called privacy? What if I wasn’t wearing any clothes?
“I’M FINE!” I shout back, my voice embarrassingly loud. “For the love of God, Easton, can’t you just wait?!”
I don’t hear him move away.
What does he think I’m doing in here? Napping?
I tug at the hemline of my hoodie, successfully managing toyank it down over the front of my dress, the universe finally on my side. Unfortunately, I look ridiculous.
Sequin-covered skirt sticking out from the bottom of a sweatshirt I bought from a secondhand store? Hair jutting out in a thousand directions? Not a good look for me.
“Is he still standing there?” Macy asks.
“No idea.”
Macy pulls a face when she gets a glimpse of me. “Girl, take that sweatshirt off. You look chopped.”
I know!
“I don’t want him to see my dress!” I tell her. It feels like badluck.
Macy is laughing so hard I’m surprised she isn’t rolling on the floor in her dress.
“Okay. I’m doing it.” I’m going to be brave and stick my head out. I am brave. “Deep breath.”
