Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
He leans forward and whispers, “Tell me to fuck off.”
I can’t. My heart is stuttering and my hands are trembling. My brain? It’s screaming at me to say something! Anything! Be rational, Harper! Demand some sort of clarity before you let him kiss you again!
But my body? Oh…she’s weak. WEAK, I SAY! Already leaning in. Already betraying me. Fingers already curling into front of his navy blue sweatshirt.
He’s going to kiss me.
And I’m going to let him.
I’m going to—
“Westermann!”
We jolt apart, shoving each other away like we’ve been caught committing another crime, when a voice cracks through our moment like a spark.
“Yes, Coach?”
A man in an NHL hoodie is standing at the edge of the ice, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. “What are you doing out here? Get your ass to the locker room. Now.”
Easton exhales hard as if he suddenly remembered what he’s supposed to be doing here in the first place, gaze flicking apologetically to mine. He rakes a hand through his hair and gives me a bashful smile.
“Sorry.”
Then he’s gone, skating away without another word, disappearing into the tunnel.
I stand there, my body still wired, my pulse hammering so hard I can hear it in my ears.
Sorry.
What the hell is he sorry for? That he’s ditching me? That he didn’t kiss me? That he DIDN’T ASK ME TO PROM?!
Does this mean he isn’t going to? This was the perfect opportunity!
It was part of our deal!
He promised the promposal was coming.
And as incredible as it feels being with him, part of me can’t help but wonder: What on earth is he waiting for?
Chapter 28
Easton
I was about to kiss Harper at the rink last night.
I was so close to her lips.
Pink nose, pink cheeks.
Wide eyes.
She totally wanted me to, and there was nothing stopping me until fucking Coach Waller pissed on the moment.
The vibrating buzz of my cell phone stops my thoughts, and I fumble for it on the nightstand. Half awake, I swipe at the screen, ready to dismiss whatever notification is interrupting my morning.
Then I see her name.
Maddie Miller.
For a second, I think I’m dreaming. Or hallucinating. There is no way she just texted me.
This must be a mistake.
I forget about kissing Harper. Forget about the way she looked at me when I made that shot. The way her lips parted when I almost kissed her again last night.
I sit up so fast I nearly fall out of bed and knock a water bottle from my end table.
“Holy shit.”
Maddie Miller: Morning!!!!!!
I stare as three dots fill my screen. What could she possibly want? My brain cannot handle this kind of excitement so early in the morning.
Maddie: Super rando question but, like, since you don’t live far from my house I was wondering if I could catch a ride to school? My mom is taking my car to get the oil changed.
The first thing my brain registers is: She wants a favor. From me. The second is: Is this a joke?
Am I delirious right now?
I rub the sleep from my eyes, searching my screen for the time.
Shit, it’s early.
Super fucking early.
I blink several more times, waiting for my brain to catch up with reality. Maddie Miller is asking me for a favor. Harper said I was manifesting her and she was not wrong; I am holding the proof in my hand. She needs a ride to school.
Her + me + my car.
Together.
The thought sends a jolt of adrenaline through my half-awake body. This is either the greatest moment of my life or the setup for a very cruel joke—because I DO NOT HAVE A FUCKING CAR.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard as I try to figure out how to respond.
Do I just tell her I don’t drive myself to school? Or do I make a sarcastic comment about how she should text someone she’s actually friends with to take her?
Fuck. I am freaking out, man!
She could have asked anyone for a ride—literally anyone—but she’s asking me. And even though I have no idea where she actually lives (I’d never be creepy enough to investigate or look it up for no reason), I’m determined to find out.
“Oh God, what do I do?” I moan. Except guess what? God doesn’t care, and he’s not going to jump out of the closet to help.
I run a hand through my messy hair.
Maddie is expecting me to say yes—otherwise she wouldn’t have texted me. Would she think I’m blowing her off completely if I say no?
I can’t tell her no. Not when part of the reason I’m in the mess with Harper is because of a dare—one concerning Maddie.
Me: Morning. Uh. Hold on for one second, k?
Throwing off my blanket, I stumble out of bed. There’s only one person who can help me, and that person is my mother.
I sprint out of my room, dash down the hallway at a frantic pace, and throw open my parents’ bedroom door. I don’t bother knocking; I fling it open like Indiana fucking Jones and race directly toward the bed.