I shrug. “Everyone stared at me like I’m some freak with three heads. Nothing new.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pen. “Harper, people are looking at you because you’re the most beautiful girl in this room—probably even the world.” He means every single word. My heart rate speeds up. It’s this buzzing feeling because I can smell his cologne and see the honesty in his eyes and that’s all I want. All a person really needs in another person. Truth. There’s an honesty in his kiss that I know I won’t find anywhere else, regardless of how many boys I kiss.
He slides his hand down to my wrist, then up the lace sleeve. “Thanks for coming, Benny,” I say again, louder this time so he can hear me over the music.
“I’d never leave my girl to the wolves,” he says, swallowing hard. His gaze flicks down to my empty wrist. “I have something for you. It’s not what I had in mind when my mom demanded I save you, but it’s all I have time for.” He smirks and raises one brow. I nod.
Leading me by the hand, he moves us closer to the shark aquarium. Sliding the tight lace around my wrist up my forearm, he bends over, pen in hand, and starts drawing on my skin. “You’re tickling me,” I exclaim as I watch him work.
Ben moves my arm as he draws. He bites his tongue and bottom lip as he concentrates—his gaze intent like a furious artist.
“Done. It’s totally worth the tickle factor. What do you think?” he asks, bending my arm so I can see my wrist. He clicks the pen closed and slides it back into his pocket. He leaves his hand in mine as he watches me appraise his handiwork.
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “It’s the most beautiful corsage I’ve ever seen.” It is a horrible drawing that wraps my entire wrist. “Daisies?” I ask as I narrow my eyes. “Or a rose hybrid?” I sniff my wrist. “The flowers smell so lovely. You shouldn’t have. Thank you so much.” Doodles. The man can cheer me up with doodles. Always has and always will.
“If you don’t sweat your ass off like it’s an underground rave, you might be able to keep the flowers all night,” Benny replies. “Dance with me?” He extends one hand and raises a brow. I say a silent prayer, thanking God Jeff got the flu.
A slow song trickles through the speakers and I can’t get into his arms fast enough. We sway to the music, the side of my face pressed firmly against his chest. “How did you rent a tux so fast?” I ask. This is the first time I’ve seen him in a tux and it just might be the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen.
I can feel him raise and lower his shoulders. “Maybe, I always wanted to come to prom with you, Harpee.”
All he had to do is ask and he didn’t. That means the kiss changed things for him, too. My whole body glows with anticipation. “Thanks for breaking your rule about no school functions. The sharks aren’t good dancers.” I tilt my head to the side of the room where the huge, lithe creatures swim above our heads.
“Neither are the wolves,” he growls, eyes darting around the room. “You should have known Jeff would end up puking on prom night. He’s that type of guy.”
Laughing, I pull myself against him tighter. He presses against me, and my mouth waters. The need to kiss him wars with my sensibilities. “Careful, little lady. Unless you want atrueprom night.” Ben pulls back to peer in my eyes. When he sees my panic, he winks.
I can see the doodle on my wrist all night long, my hands twining around his neck. It’s the best night of my life. For the first time ever, I belong somewhere. Our peers whisper and stare and it’s not because we’re different, or weird.
It’s because we have something none of them ever will.
Chapter Nine
Harper
It feels so good to be back in San Diego. Marcus and I have settled into a comfortable lifestyle in a small two-bedroom craftsman house near the college. We’re so busy we rarely have time to do anything other than mandatory obligations. I have Sunday dinner at my parents’ house every weekend, but I rarely have time for my friends in a non-school setting. My mom called last week and mentioned Ben was dating a girl and they’re pretty serious. It’s the first time I’ve gleaned facts about his life through another source. It was odd.
I ignored the familiar sting, but it made all the pieces fall into place. The no contact. Not even so much as a text in weeks. I’ve made other truly, good friends and it’s nice to have an adult circle of likeminded individuals to brighten the monotony. A Harvard degree didn’t make me an adult. Life did. And I’m so busy living it, sometimes I forget to enjoy it.
I’m in our office at home when Marcus drops into his chair across from me. We’ve fit two desks and three bookshelves in here. We’re the epitome of master’s students. We live and breathe school. “We should do something fun this weekend, Harp. It’s been so long since we’ve done something for us. With friends.”
I nod, spinning in my swivel chair to face his side of the room. “The workload is incredible. I moved here hoping to spend more time with family and I might have to cancel Sunday dinner again this weekend. I have to grade those exams and this paper is acting like a bogus clown. I can’t get it to behave.”
“I saw the paper earlier today. You left it up on the laptop. It’s not bogus at all. It’s solid. Don’t worry so much. You’ve got this.” He clears his throat. “When’s the last time we’ve hung out with friends?”
I lay a palm on my forehead. “It’s been forever.”
“Let’s make dinner plans for this weekend. Call Ben and see if he wants to come along. Let’s let off some steam. What do you say?” My first thought is that he’s crazy. The second is that I want nothing more than to relax for a few hours without thinking about anything taxing. “Drinks and tacos. You can’t say no.” He’s making a rolling gesture with his arms, and I laugh at how goofy he looks.
“The fact that you’re the one proposing this says a lot of about the dire need of a night off.” I’m usually the one begging off to do something fun. Marcus is all work and no play.
“Proposing, huh?” Marcus says, smiling that wide, beautiful smile. It’s malicious this time. Calculating. I’m not giving him something he wants and I’m unsure how long I can hold out without causing an enormous rift.
I throw a wadded-up ball of paper at his head. “Stop. I don’t want to get into that conversation right now. Nor do I have the time.”
He holds up both hands. “Fine. Fine. Just thought I’d bring your Freudian slip to attention.” Marcus wants to get married. While I’m not opposed, because I honestly don’t know who the hell else would marry a person like me—a person enraptured with success and my career, I just can’t agree to it. We’ve been together for years and I know he’s getting pressure from his parents. There’s something, and I’m not sure what, holding me back from pressing the gas pedal. Most would tell me I’m being childish, but I’m stubborn enough to trust my gut. I need more time. After my master’s I can slow down and marry Marcus. I’ve told him that a half dozen times, but he shakes his head and tells me there will never be a perfect time. Sort of like a robot, but with more feeling.
Shouldn’t there be, though? A perfect time? Shouldn’t something like a wedding day be perfect? Free of all encumbrances of a harried, busy life? Free of all notions of what’s supposed to happen and when it should happen? Love doesn’t happen organically twice. It’s an impossibility. Marcus changes the subject to his brother’s impending visit.
