Harper's Rules 1 & 2

Chapter 43: Jake

A/N: Mature content. 🏃‍♀️🤪🏃‍♀️

This is not how I thought tonight would go.

By her silence this week, I knew Harper was still pissed off from Saturday night, but one glance at her face showed she was absolutely miserable. She sat on my bedroom's floor with her feet planted flat on the carpet, knees raised, and back rigidly rested against the edge of my bed. When her hands weren't clutched around her cup of wine, they rubbed over her face while she groaned quietly. On the rare moments I saw her face, her eyebrows scrunched together, lips wrenched in a scowl, and her eyes fixated on my locked door like an inmate that plotted their escape plan.

Since tonight was Thursday, every casual 'How was your week'-type question I'd asked her was shut down with short, terse, 'fine' responses, preceded by a huff, eyeroll, or sharp exhale. If I hadn't found her overreactions amusing then I would've felt just as irritated.

I'm trying here but... clearly failing.

At the moment, I felt as clueless as when I'd entered Brentwood Florist on my drive north to UCLA. The damp smell of mixed flowers hit me before the door closed behind me. Since I hadn't bought a girl flowers in fuck knows when, probably my senior year Prom, I was grateful for the older woman's help from behind the counter. She assured me that coral-colored roses meant a transition between friends and more than friends, so I trusted her judgment and bought a dozen of them.

The last time I saw Harper was Saturday night after dinner with Mom. The trail of dust her car tires kicked up as she peeled out of our house's neighborhood was enough of a middle finger. So I gave Harper a couple days of space before I contacted her again on Tuesday.

me: Since game 4 is away and overnight, can I see you Thursday?
me: Dinner on me.

me: I am sorry about Saturday, please let me make it up to you.

Harper left me on read status until around two pm today, but I was pleasantly surprised with her response.

Harper: You'd better.

In between my usual Thursday classes, workouts, and practices, I'd thought about Mom's suggestion that I set my priorities. While I wasn't the most thoughtful guy, I had realized that I'd wasted too much damn time just sleeping with Harper.

I'm in her life now, just need to get inside those defensive mechanisms.

I might have a better chance of winning the California lottery.

Instead of luck, I had stubbornness with a side of stupidity on my side. First, Harper deserved an apology from me for the shit I'd pulled on her in high school and I was damned determined she got it.

She also deserved to be treated properly, but I wasn't sure if she was ready for an actual, sincerely romantic date. I hoped actions that demonstrated good intentions were sufficient enough for a start, rushed home from practice, prepped dinner, and cleaned my room. Since she'd driven over here every time, I'd incorrectly assumed that surprising her with flowers and being her chauffeur was a nice switch.

Couldn't have been more wrong there, obviously.

Kieran's temper dampened my entrance and I'd forgotten to tell Harper how nice she looked. She'd always had a put-together appearance from head to toe but the more natural makeup showcased her bright eyes, narrow jawline, and high cheekbones. While the lower part of me wanted her creamy white sweater and black leggings discarded next to where her brown leather boots sat by my bedroom door, I had specific plans for tonight's date.