Chapter Twelve: The Image of 'Us'

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Piper Belle-Harwood.

The Image of ‘Us’

.Seven years ago.

“Gracie Haggens is glaring at me again,” I mumbled, stabbing at my salad. “I can’t believe you ever dated her.”

Across from me, Alex sighed.

“Your dating history isn’t exactly an empty slate either. I can’t walk onto the basketball court without Aidan Walberg attempting to injure me.”

I looked up at my football-playing boyfriend and furrowed my eyebrows.

“What would you be doing on a basketball court?”

“Huh? No, Piper, that’s not the point.”

“Well then stop talking in fucking metaphors!”

“Metaphors? What? Why are you in such a bad mood?”

I glared at Alex.

“I’m in a bad mood because your ex-girlfriends are all sluts who hate me and you won’t let me bitch them out.”

“They’re just glaring at you! They’re not making physical threats towards you so I don’t understand why you need to go to such lengths to-”

“Shut up, Alex. You just don’t get it. Girls don’t fight things out physically.”

Alex sighed.

“Piper.” I refused to meet his eyes and concentrated on stabbing at my salad. “What are those girls saying to you?”

“Forget it,” I snapped.

“I’m not going back to any of them. Ever.” I stopped stabbing my salad and looked at Alex, suspiciously.

“How did you know they were bitching about tha-”

“I’m not stupid, Piper. Why else would you be so worked up? You usually don’t care about anything those girls say.”

“Yeah, because they’re beneath me,” I responded in a ‘duh’ tone.

Alex laughed.

“Exactly.” He sobered up and sent me a small smile. “Piper, who am I with now?”

…huh?

“What?”

“Who am I with now? It’s not a trick question.”

“…me.”

“Okay, and when you close your eyes and think of me, who am I with? Am I with any of those girls?”

“…no.”

“I’m with…”

“You’re with me. The image of you is connected to an image of me.”

“Exactly. Because I love you and you love me. We’re together and I’m not going to be with any others girls and that image of us is going to stay the same for a very long time.”

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.Present Day.

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I sat nervously tearing an M&M cookie to bits while Alexander Alcott sat directly across from me and stared into his coffee.

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