I stay there with my face hidden against her hair, breathing like I’ve just killed a penalty with ten seconds left on the clock.
She doesn’t say anything, and neither do I as I try to regain my composure.
The rink glows blue-white through the window beside us. The ice is empty and peaceful and completely unaware of what just happened in the announcers booth above it.
Gradually, the tension drains out of my shoulders. Her hand moves back up to my chest, resting flat there, and I can feel my own heartbeat under her palm, still working too hard.
I straighten and look at the ceiling and take a deep breath before I move my gaze back down to Harlow.
Her lips are swollen. Her hair has fully given up. Her eyes are bright with something that is equal parts satisfaction and amusement, and she is very clearly trying to decide whether she can keep a straight face.
She can’t, and her shoulders start shaking.
“What?” I say.
She presses her lips together, then loses the battle entirely. Tucks her face into my chest and laughs—quiet, helpless, real—and I feel it against my sternum, and my mouth pulls into a grin before I can stop it. Because it’s her.
“Nothing,” she manages. “I just?—”
She pulls back and looks up at me, still smiling, eyes bright.
“I take it we aren’t going back to the dinner.”
I look at her, taking in the messy hair, her pretty face, the bright eyes, and the smile she isn’t trying to hide even a little.
“No,” I say, losing my own battle of holding in my grin. “I don’t think so.”
Her smile widens.
And standing in the announcers booth above an empty rink, I think I would miss every donor dinner for the rest of my career for ten more seconds of that laugh.
25
HARLOW
“YOU DID WHAT?” Wren screeches through my phone, face insanely close to the screen, paying no mind to the fact that it is far too early and I got far too little sleep.
My blush is well rested as it makes its way up my neck. “I know. I didn’t even think about getting caught or the chance that someone, like my brother, could literally walk in at any second.”
“Harlow Rae Mercer,” she says, a huge smile on her face, causing both dimples to show. “I am in awe of you right now. That’s my GIRL!”
I hide my face in my pillow, grateful I decided to come back to my dorm last night and not crash at Kai’s. I needed time and space to process things after Grayson walked me back to my dorm.
Thankfully, it was dark, and his pants mostly hid the evidence of what had happened. It didn’t stop us from laughing about it, though, which left me even more confused.
How did I feel so comfortable with someone so easily? When I had spent years hiding from the world and had only reentered life a few months ago.
The world may never know.
Before Wren has a chance to say more, I notice two notifications pop up at the top of my screen.
One from Weston, because of course.
Weston: proud of u for not tackling a donor last night
Then I see Grayson’s.
Gray: morning, beautiful.
