Good
God
Almighty
In
Heaven.
Who clearly exists and is trying to kill me.
She’s glowing in the light of the sunset through the barn door. She’s smiling at something Maxine’s just said and her hair is down and so long and is that a flower tucked behind her ear…wow…I…that dress…her hair…I…
She looks bloody phenomenal, obviously.
But alsomore.She’s more like herself somehow. Like this is Harper. Not the baker, the daughter, the town cheerleader on a bicycle butthis.
“H-harper?” I stutter for maybe the first time in my adult life.
But at the sight of me, her open, happy, laughing-with-Max face shutters completely closed. Her eyebrows scrunch adorably and…what’s she done with her eyes? Wow, again.
Gorgeous, yes, but her expression is not just reserved or shy. She’s angry. I blink, trying to find a coherent train of thought other than looking at her hair and the way her dress is leaving very little to my imagination and—
Stop it, man! Why is she cross with you?
“Harper?” I say again, my voice scratchy.
Yes, you twat, that’s her name. Move on!
She turns away. Which gives me an amazing view of her—
Aiden Christopher Vanderwell. Get it together!
“What’s the matter?”I ask.
She shakes her head with a small smile that tries to lie to me,Nothing.
I clear my throat, and straighten myself up, taking over the situation, “Walk with me?…Please?” She wordlessly saysI guessand steps out reluctantly from between her table and Maxine’s. “It’s bumper to bumper out there, very well done,” I try.
“Mhm,” she barely answers.
We leave the barn and start on a path leading through the fields. There’s a pond in view, and a few abandoned old vehicles and farm tools. Not that I’m looking at any of that.
She’s breathtaking.
“You look…” I try to find the words. Angelic? Otherworldly? Unbearable to look away from? “Like yourself.” She frowns.Wanker! You’re better than this!“I mean, you look absolutely gorgeous, obviously.”
She blushes and I feel a thrill of victory. She’s such an open book right now, red spreading from her cheeks to her ears and probably down her chest. I will myself not to look down to check.
“Thanks,” she whispers. We walk for a few paces in almost silence, with the murmur of the projected movie behind us. I have an idea, a card I have for just a few hours, and decide to use it. I say, “I’ve a birthday request.”
That gets her. She looks up at me and I have to cough when the air gets caught in my throat. There’s some green in her dress and it’s making her eyes almost glow in the waning light. I look away so I can focus.
“Let’s play twenty questions,” I propose. She snorts, an adorable sound that is Harper forabsolutely not.“Okay, ten then. First, why are you angry with me?”
She huffs, kicking at the gravel beneath our feet, “I’m not.”
“You did hear yourself just then, yeah? That was the most unconvincing argument I’ve ever heard and I’m well-versed. Try again.”
