Page 28 of Freefall

So why couldn’t I bring myself to say yes?

Nikki would be kneeling, patiently waiting for me.

Nikki would obey my every order.

Nikki would say “Yes, sir” instead of…

“Fuck you, Nathan.”

“Dani.”

“Don’t Dani me! You told my midterm partner that you were going to push him off a cliff. That project is worth forty percent of my grade.”

I’m on her like a shadow as she stomps down the hallway. “He was insinuating that he was going to take naked pictures of you.”

She stops dead in her tracks. “Yes, Nate. That’s part of the project. We chose the human form as our theme.”

“The human form?”

“Yes,” she says again, ripping open the door to her room. She attempts to slam it, but I catch it against my palm before it closes and follow her past the threshold. If there is one thing I’ve learned over the past few weeks, it’s that Harper Daniels is stubborn as fuck. Sure, she’s all sunshine and dancing in the rain and color and ridiculous frappuccinos that contain maybe five percent actual coffee until you piss her off. Then she’s a fucking brat of the highest magnitude.

“So you’re going to let him take naked pictures of you?” I press.

“Not completely naked. It will be more suggestive. It’s art, Nate. It doesn’t have to be in your face to tell a story.” She drops her bag to the ground, the various bracelets on her wrist clanging with the movement.

My hands rest firmly on my hips. “No.”

She rears back like I just slapped her. “I’m sorry…what?”

“I said no.”

“Nathan.”

Dropping my arms, I get in her space, walking toward her until she’s backed up against the wall in her tiny dorm room. I brace my hands on either side of her head, caging her in. “What?”

“You need to chill. We’ve only been hanging out a couple weeks, and we haven’t even…” She trails off.

I don’t miss the way she says “hanging out”—not seeing each other, not dating—fucking hanging out. I ignore the anger burning in my gut from her casual assessment of what we’ve been doing and focus on the second part. “Haven’t even what, Harper?”

I know what she was going to say. We’ve been hanging out a couple of weeks, and we haven’t even fucked. Not because I don’t want to, because I really fucking do, but because I don’t want to ruin this. Whatever this is. It’s different. She’s different. Every other girl I’ve been with has been a means to an end—a vehicle for getting off. Some may have gotten caught up, and I’ve had to deal with that, but I’ve never been the one to catch feelings.

Until now.

Sex complicates things. Isn’t that what everyone always says? Not to mention, the way I want to have sex is more than a little complicated. I’ve kept my inner monster at bay with other girls, but what if I can’t with her? What if she sees me for who I really am and runs away crying like Jackie?

She’s already going to run away, the nagging little voice in the corner of my mind says. Look at her.

My eyes flick back to Harper, but she doesn’t seem scared or sad or confused. She looks pissed.

“You know what I mean,” she snaps. “You can’t be mad at me for letting another man see me naked when you don’t even want to.”

That makes me laugh, deep and throaty. “You think I don’t want to see you naked?”

She looks off to the side, purposefully avoiding my probing gaze, so I reach out and grip her chin, turning it back to me. “Answer me.”

“I don’t know.” Her words feel like a confession. Like the first honest thing either of us has said since this stupid fight started.

“Then let me clear it up for you.” My thumb finds the small dimple on her chin, and with my index finger I tip it higher so she has no choice but to look at me. “From the moment I saw you in that parking lot, I’ve wanted to rip the clothes from your body and show you what happens to bad girls who wear fucking shorts in the middle of October.”