And I was definitely looking.
I couldn’t have looked away even if my life depended on it.
Drew’s expression shifted, his eyes dropping briefly to my mouth before meeting mine again. The air between us seemed to crackle with a new awareness, and I realized with a jolt that if he leaned forward even slightly, we’d be close enough to?—
My phone buzzed loudly on the table between us, making us both jump. Drew pulled his hand back like he’d been burned, and I grabbed my phone with fumbling fingers.
Rachel
Where are you? We need to be at Brody’s in 20 minutes for rehearsal.
Shit. I’d completely forgotten.
“I have to go,” I said, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. “Rehearsal.”
Drew nodded, not quite meeting my eyes. “Right. Yeah. We can, uh, finish this tomorrow? At my place?”
“Sure.”
I gathered my things with hands that weren’t quite steady, shoving papers and books into my bag. Every movement felt mechanical, like my body was operating on autopilot while my brain tried to process what had just happened.
Or almost happened.
As I stood to leave, Drew looked up at me, his expression unreadable. “Harper?”
“Yeah?”
“I really do think you’re amazing. At music. And…other things.”
The sincerity in his voice made my throat tight. “Thanks,” I managed, and then fled before I could do something stupid, like touch him again.
Or worse, believe him.
TWENTY-FOUR
“For our final project, we propose to explore how early attachment patterns formed in childhood impact adult relationships,” Harper stated, her voice steady and confident as she addressed our psychology class. “We’ll investigate how these patterns influence how we connect with others, our comfort with intimacy, and our ability to trust.”
I nodded, picking up my part of the proposal presentation. “Our research will particularly focus on how these patterns can change over time. With self-awareness and the right support, people can develop more secure attachment styles, and we want to examine the factors that facilitate that growth.”
From the back of the classroom, Professor Keene was nodding approvingly. I’d been nervous about this presentation for days—not because we weren’t prepared, but because standing next to Harper in front of the entire class made me hyperaware of her in a way I wasn’t sure how to handle. Every time our shoulders brushed as we switched slides, I felt it like an electric current going through my arm.
“Any questions about the proposal?” Harper asked, glancing around the room.
A classmate raised his hand. “So, would your research cover if becoming a parent could change your attachment style?”
I froze, feeling a wave of self-consciousness wash over me. Everyone knew about Rory by now—our campus was small and enough people had seen her around or heard about her existence.
But I still felt a little awkward about the whole situation, which was a new experience for me and not one I was particularly fond of, although I wouldn’t trade my daughter for anything in the world. I’d never known it was possible to love anyone so quickly, but I was sunk for that little girl.
Harper didn’t miss a beat.
“That’s actually a fascinating angle we’re planning to include,” she said, smoothly taking control of the question. “Becoming a parent can create an opportunity for significant psychological growth. Someone with an avoidant attachment style might develop more secure patterns as they form a bond with their child.” She glanced at me, her expression supportive. “The research suggests that parenting often activates caregiving behaviors that can heal previous attachment wounds, which would be one aspect of our project.”
I cleared my throat. “Right. And it goes both ways—part of our research will look at how the quality of attachment between parent and child shapes the child’s future relationships too.”
“Excellent proposal,” Professor Keene said, making notes on her clipboard. “Drew and Harper have presented a compelling research direction for their final project. The way you’re planning to connect theoretical frameworks toreal-world applications is particularly promising.” She gave us both an approving nod. “Project approved. I’m looking forward to seeing your final paper and presentation at the end of the semester.”
As we gathered our materials, I caught several classmates exchanging knowing looks. I wasn’t sure what they thought they knew, but the speculative glances made me uncomfortable.
