Page 106 of The Summer We Lie

"It's not what you think," I try, but even to my own ears, the words sound pathetic.

"Really? Because it looks like my best friend is fucking my dad! What exactly am I misunderstanding here?" Her voice cracks on the last word, and I can see tears welling in her eyes.

"Harper, please," Dom says, moving to stand beside me. He's wearing just his sweatpants, his chest bare. "Let's talk about this."

"Talk about what? How long this has been going on? How many times you've been with her while I've been completely clueless?" She turns to me, and the hurt in her eyes cuts deeper than any anger could. "I trusted you. I brought you here. To my home."

"It just happened," I whisper, tears streaming down my face. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Well, congratulations," she says bitterly. "Mission failed."

Dom steps forward. "Harper, this isn't Skye's fault. If you want to be angry at someone, be angry at me."

"Oh, don't worry," she says, looking between us. "There's plenty of anger to go around."

I take a step toward her, reaching out. "Harper, please⁠—"

"Don't." She backs away from me like my touch might burn her. "I need... I need to not be here right now."

Before either of us can say anything else, she turns and storms back into her room, the door slamming with a finality that makes me flinch.

I stand frozen, staring at her closed door, tears still flowing down my face.

"God damn it," Dom yells behind me, his voice echoing through the hallway. But all I can think about is the hurt look in Harper's eyes—my best friend who I've betrayed in the worst way possible.

"I should have never let this happen," Dom says, and I know he's right, but it hurts when he says it because I know he regrets it. Regrets me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper and begin walking the rest of the way down the stairs. He doesn't stop me, and I didn't expect him to even if I wished he would.

When I get to my room, I lock the door, sink to the floor, and cry. The sobs wrack my body so hard I can barely breathe. Harper's face—that look of pure betrayal—plays on repeat in my mind. I don't know how long I stay like that, huddled against the door, but I know I need to get out of here. Harper hates me and Dom regrets me. There's nothing left for me in this house.

I finally drag myself to the bathroom to clean my face of tears and snot. My face is so red when I look into the mirror as I brush my teeth—eyes puffy, nose running, cheeks blotchy. I look exactly like what I am: a girl who destroyed everything she cared about.

I grab my bathroom bag from under the sink and pack everything into it with shaking hands. Back in the bedroom, I flop down on the bed with my phone to book a flight home. There's a flight out of here in three hours, so I book it without even checking the price. Money doesn't matter now. I just need to leave.

Then I get dressed. I throw on some panties and jean shorts, then a hoodie over Dom's shirt. I can't bring myself to take it off yet—his scent still clings to the fabric, and it's the last piece of him I'll have. I throw my hair up in a messy bun and find a pair of sunglasses to hide my swollen eyes.

I pack my belongings blindly because it's hard to see through the tears that keep coming. Clothes get shoved in without folding, my art supplies dumped into my backpack without organizing. None of it matters anyway.

When I'm done, I order an Uber, then tear out a sketch from my notebook and lay it on the bed. It's one of the drawings I did of Dom. I pick up a pen with trembling fingers and write a note, struggling to find the right words for a goodbye that shouldn't have to happen.

I fold the note in half, write "Dom" on the front, and place it down on the picture. Tears splash onto the paper, making the ink run in tiny rivers.

I grab my luggage and leave my room, closing the door softly behind me. When I reach the front door, I look back into the house one last time. This place was beginning to feel like home, as strange as that is. Now it's just another place I didn't belong.

I shut the door and wait for the car, which shows up minutes later. I put my luggage in the trunk and slip into the back seat.

"To the airport?" the guy asks.

I nod. "Thanks," I say and pull out my phone and earbuds. I put one in and push play on my favorite playlist, letting the music drown out my thoughts. Then I send a text to my mom.

Me: I'm catching a flight back today, I'll be in tonight. Can I stay at home for a while?

Mom: Of course you can! Is everything okay?

Me: No

Mom: What's wrong Hun?