I pocket my phone and keep walking For the first time since this whole mess started, I’m not running away from the uncertainty.
I’m walking toward whatever comes next.
And maybe, if I’m lucky, Piper will be walking toward it too.
33
PIPER
I’m still riding the adrenaline high of finally telling Miles exactly what I think of him when I climb the stairs to my apartment. My hands are steady for the first time in days, my thoughts clearer than they’ve been in months. It’s like I’ve been walking around with a fog in my brain for months, and confronting Miles just burned it all away.
The key turns easily in the lock, and I push open the door expecting to find Riya waiting with wine and the desire to hear me “drag him for filth,” as she so eloquently put it.
Instead, I find Greg sitting on our coffee table, his broad leaves catching the afternoon light from our living room window. For a second, I just stare at him, brain trying to process why Riya moved him from my bedroom.
Then I see the note.
It’s propped against Greg’s pot, folded notebook paper with my name written in Ethan’s familiar scrawl. My heart does something complicated—a skip, a flutter, a painful squeeze that reminds me how much I’ve missed him these past few days.
I sit on the couch, Greg at eye level, and unfold the note.
I read it twice, then a third time, each pass making my chest feel lighter and heavier at the same time. Lighter because he came here, because he apologized, because he’s ready to listen. Heavier because while I was confronting my past with Miles, Ethan was here being vulnerable, and I missed it.
“Hey, Greg,” I say softly, reaching out to touch one of his leaves. Greg doesn’t respond, obviously, but something about his presence makes the me feel less empty. Like a bridge between the mess I just walked away from and the possibility I’m trying to walk toward.
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over Ethan’s contact. The smart thing would be to text him back immediately, to close this loop and start fixing what we broke. But looking at Greg, thinking about Ethan’s note and his willingness to trust me with complicated stuff, I realize there’s something else I need to do first.
Something I should have done the moment Miles texted me asking to meet.
I scroll through my contacts until I find Harper’s number.
We exchanged information at that first awkward encounter at the Sushi Palace, one of those polite gestures that people make when they’re trying to be friendly. I never thought I’d actually use it. Part of me hoped I’d never have to. But I wonder if I offered it because I knew, I knew that one day I’d have to do this.
But sitting here in my apartment, fresh from telling Miles exactly what kind of person he is, I know I can’t let Harper keep dating him without knowing the truth. Not when I have the power to give her the information she needs to make her own choices.
The phone rings twice before she picks up.
“Piper? Hi!” Her voice is bright, genuinely pleased, and guilt immediately claws at my stomach. “How are you?”
“Hey, Harper. I’m... I’m okay. Listen, I know this is going to sound weird, but could we meet for coffee sometime soon? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Is this about Miles?”
My heart pounds. “Yes.”
“I thought it might be.” Her voice is quiet now, thoughtful. “He’s been acting strange since that party. And when I mentioned how cute you and Ethan were, he got... weird about it. You know…weirder than two people who are just friends.”
“Harper, I—” I take a breath, force myself to be direct. “There are things you should know. About me and Miles. About our history.”
Another pause, longer this time. “Okay. When?”
“Whenever works for you. Today, if you’re free. I know this is awkward, but?—”
“Today’s fine. I don’t have class until six.” Her voice is steady, but I can hear the undercurrent of worry. “Shall we meet on the quad in an hour?”
“Perfect. And Harper?” I close my eyes. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call before.”
“It’s that bad?”
