“You need to sleep. You need to eat something that isn’t coffee and granola bars. And you need to stop bleeding all over your strings.”
I finally looked at her. Rachel was in her pajamas, hair mussed from sleep, and her expression was a mixture of worry and frustration that I’d been seeing more and more of since I arrived on her parents’ doorstep bawling my eyes out.
“I’m fine,” I lied, setting the violin down carefully on the bed.
She scoffed. “You’re not even close to fine. You’re destroying yourself.” She moved closer, and I could see the dark circles under her eyes. Shit, I’d been keeping her awake. Here she was giving me a place to stay and I was messing with her sleep. I was a terrible friend. “Harper, you’re going to permanently damage your fingers if you keep this up.”
I looked down at my left hand, at the angry red welts where the strings had been cutting into my fingertips. There was dried blood under my nails, and my joints ached fromthe repetitive motion. But physical pain was easier than the alternative.
“I can’t stop playing,” I whispered, the admission ripping out of me like a confession. “Because when I stop, I think about them. I think about Drew holding Rory while she fell asleep. I think about the way he looked at me when he said he loved me. I think about how none of it was real. How my dad was right and I made a fool of myself.”
My voice cracked on the last word, and the tears I’d been fighting back for hours finally spilled over.
“The pain in my fingers is easier than the pain in my chest,” I continued, my words barely audible. “At least this hurt I can control. At least when I’m playing, I’m toofocused on technique to think about how stupid I was. How I actually believed Drew Dumontier could love me.”
Rachel sat down beside me on the bed, careful not to disturb the sheet music scattered everywhere like evidence of my obsession.
“Harper, what if Drew never meant for his comment to turn into something like that?—”
“It doesn’t matter what he meant.” I wiped my eyes roughly with the back of my hand. “His words started it. He’s the one who said there was no universe where we’d hook up. He made me into a challenge for his teammates, whether he meant to or not. And now everyone thinks I was just”—my voice broke—“some game he won.”
“But he stopped it once he realized what they were doing?—”
“Rachel, stop.” I stood up abruptly, pacing to the window that overlooked the street. How long would it feel like my heart was actively bleeding out of my chest? “He’s not even fighting for me. That proves everything, doesn’t it? If he really cared, wouldn’t he be trying to contact me? Wouldn’t he be desperate to make me understand?”
The silence from his end hurt more than I wanted to admit. I’d been braced for calls, texts, him showing up at Rachel’s door. Instead, nothing. Complete radio silence, as if I’d never existed in his life at all.
It confirmed every terrible thought I’d had about myself since learning about the bet.
“Maybe he’s giving you space because he knows you’re hurting,” Rachel said gently.
“Or maybe he’s relieved it’s over.” I turned back to face her, wrapping my arms around myself. “Maybe he got what he wanted from me, and now he can move on to the next challenge.”
Rachel frowned. “You don’t really believe that.”
But I did.
Or at least, I was trying to make myself believe it.
Because believing Drew had used me was easier than believing I’d lost something real. If it had all been fake, then I hadn’t actually lost anything worth keeping.
“I have to focus on my future,” I said, gesturing toward the chaos of sheet music and practice notes. “The fellowship is all that matters now.”
“Harper, you’re scaring me. You haven’t eaten a real meal in three days. You’re practicing until your fingers bleed, which is an accomplishment considering how calloused they were. You won’t talk to anyone except me, and even then, you barely say much. This isn’t healthy.”
“I’m just making sure I’m at my best for my fellowship performances.”
“You’re running away.”
“I’m surviving.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “I’m doing what I have to do to get through this.”
Rachel was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. Finally, she asked, “What about Rory?”
My hand flew to my chest as if I could somehow contain the pain spreading through my rib cage. “Don’t,” I whispered.
“You love her.”
“She’s not mine to love.” The words tasted bitter. “She was never mine. I was just convenient. Someone to help Drew with babysitting.”
