We reached her porch, the soft glow from inside spilling through the windows. She turned to face me, and suddenly I was very aware of how close wewere standing.
“Your parents really love you,” she said, her voice low. “That part was obvious, even through the Tinsley hostility.”
“Yeah, they do. I just wish they would’ve been nicer to you.”
“Why?” The question came out as a whisper, like she was afraid of what I might say.
I wasn’t sure if I’d stepped closer or if she had, but our toes were almost touching as I stared down into her mesmerizing brown eyes. “Because you’ve become important to me.”
For the briefest moment, I imagined what it would be like to close the distance between us. To find out if her lips were as soft as they looked.
But then the porch light above us flickered, and the moment broke.
Harper took a small step back, tucking a strand of her fire-red hair behind her ear. “I should go in,” she said, her voice slightly unsteady. “Early morning and all that.”
“Right,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Thanks again for coming to dinner. And for bringing Liam’s package.”
“Of course,” she said, turning and opening her front door. She paused on the threshold to look back at me one more time. “Goodnight, Andy.”
“Goodnight, Freckles.”
Neither of us said the names with the usual teasing tones they’d always carried.
I stood there for a moment after she closed the door, trying to make sense of the jumble of emotions coursing through me.
I couldn’t deny it anymore. Harper Tinsley was no longer the enemy.
The only problem was that I was pretty sure being her friend would never be enough either.
TWENTY-EIGHT
My violin case felt unnaturally heavy as I trudged up the steps to the hockey house. Each step was like climbing a mountain, my legs weighed down with the anxiety that had been building for days. The Montana Philharmonic fellowship audition was tomorrow, and I was practically vibrating with nerves.
I’d been practicing my original composition for hours each day, refining and polishing until my fingers ached and my roommates threatened mutiny. The piece had evolved from a simple melody I’d hummed to Rory into something I was cautiously proud of—a composition that blended folk-inspired motifs with contemporary techniques in a way that felt uniquely mine.
But was it good enough? That was the question that had been haunting me for weeks.
Drew answered the door before I could knock, as if he’d been waiting for me. Rory was nestled against his chest in a baby carrier, her eyes heavy with the drowsiness that preceded naptime.
Over the last three weeks, we’d fallen into a weird sortof unspoken friendship. We’d meet to go over our project, but I never lingered when we were done. Mostly because I was using every spare minute to practice for my audition, but there was also a part of me that was afraid to stay too long in a space with him. Twice now there had been a moment between us where my heart had thrashed against my chest and my brain had been convinced he was going to kiss me.
I could not under any circumstances let Drew Dumontier kiss me.
“Hey,” he said, stepping aside to let me in. “Perfect timing. She’s about to crash.”
“I can come back if it’s not a good time,” I offered, though the thought of returning to my empty practice room made my stomach clench with anxiety. At this point, I’d practiced my ass off. Now was the time when I needed honest opinions about whether it was good or not. I’d gotten feedback from Rachel, Ayanna, and Talia about the technical components, but I wanted to hear what Drew thought. Maybe that made me a masochist, because I probably shouldn’t trust him with something that had the potential to shatter me, but over the past few weeks, I’d come to care about his opinion.
“No, stay.” Drew’s voice was soft but firm. “She’ll sleep through almost anything now. Well, except my attempts at singing.”
I smiled despite my nerves. “That bad, huh?”
“Let’s just say I won’t be auditioning for any singing competitions anytime soon.” He nodded toward my violin case. “Speaking of which, you ready for tomorrow?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
Drew studied my face for a moment, seeing through mybravado with an ease that was still startling. When had he learned to read me so well?
“You look like you’re about to throw up or pass out. Maybe both.”
