A Brush with Love(25)
“This is you playing coy?”
Dan grinned. “You have reduced me to the least chill guy in the world. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve checked my phone in the past two days? I swear I keep hearing it vibrate, but then I look—nothing. I’m pathetic. I don’t even care.”
Harper shook her head like she was trying to dislodge water from her ears. He couldn’t be for real.
“So, it’s time to be direct,” he said. “I want to take you on a date. Tomorrow night. Do you have any food allergies or aversions I should be aware of?”
Harper looked around the room, thinking this must be a joke. Things like this didn’t happen. “Are you messing with me?” she asked.
“No. Does seven work?”
“What?”
“Is eight better?”
“I can’t go out with you,” she said, laughing in spite of herself. “I have plans Friday night.”
“Saturday then.”
“How do you know I’m not busy on Saturday?”
“I don’t. I’m just desperate.”
Harper stared at him, searching for the joke, but he was serious. “Well, you’re very subtle about it at least,” she said, chewing on her lip to hide the grin that was trying to break free. His eyes lingered on the spot as he smiled back.
“What are you doing on Saturday?” he asked, his voice deep and slow, the words humming straight through her chest.
Harper floundered for something, anything, to use as an excuse. “Errands.” She tried to look smug and disinterested, but they both knew she wanted to see how far he’d take this.
“What kind of errands?”
“Grocery shopping.”
“Great. I love grocery shopping.”
“You’re messing with me.” It was no longer a question.
“I’m really not. What time do you go? Morning? Afternoon?”
She shook her head. “On a Saturday? I don’t like crowds. I go later.”
“Later like…?”
“Late.” Harper would gladly shop at one a.m. if it meant she could avoid crowds and spare herself the overwhelming, pulsing energy of busy stores that tripped off her anxiety like a live wire in her chest. Even the idea of it sent a burning wave of hot panic crashing through her gut. She hated having to regulate even the most mundane aspects of her life this way, but she could either keep everything on the tightest leash possible, or lose control of her feelings altogether.
Dan gave her a calm, expectant smile, letting the silence build. Harper let out a sigh.
“I go around dinner time. Like sixish.”
“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at six on Saturday.”
“What?”
“I’ll see you then.” He paused, a spark dancing in his features as he studied her. “I’m really excited,” he said, reaching across the table to give her hand a gentle squeeze. The touch hummed up her arm like music.
Dan pushed up from the table and moved toward the hall. He glanced over his shoulder and caught her looking at him. She felt herself blush, but she didn’t look away. She let the electric grin spread across her face before dropping her focus back to her textbook.
* * *
Harper hadn’t been lying about having plans Friday night, plans that didn’t even involve studying … for the most part.
Harper and her friends made their way across Callowhill’s campus to the Jewish Student Center for the weekly Shabbat dinner, a time for them to reflect on the good in their lives and enjoy themselves without the distractions of phones.
After the candles were lit, wine poured, and blessings said, Thu, Indira, and Lizzie turned to Harper with expectant glares on their faces.
Shit. How do they know?
Ignoring their inevitable interrogation and the flurry of nerves in her chest, Harper gave her wine some individualized attention, guzzling it down before they pounced.
“Harper?” Indira’s copper eyes bore into Harper’s, eliciting a fear only a best friend could create. “Is there something you wish to tell us?”
Harper squirmed in her chair.
The answer to that was a hard NO.
Harper had purposefully avoided telling her friends details about Dan, mainly because she didn’t know where to start. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, but Harper had always struggled to define and process her feelings, needing time and some semblance of mental order before facing their questions.
Her friends were talk-things-out types of people, conveying every detail of a situation and wanting input from the group to navigate their emotions. Harper loved listening and helping them; she liked to think she was a relatively levelheaded counterbalance to some of their more (extreme) emotional responses, but when it came to her own feelings, it was overwhelming to be asked questions and given advice on something she hadn’t even processed for herself.
They were still staring, and Harper let out a long sigh. Not meeting any of their eyes, she poured herself another large glass of wine and gulped down a good portion of it.
“How did you find out?” she asked, trying to be cool. Don’t let them smell your fear.
“Dan told Alex, and Alex told Thu, and Thu, like a real friend, texted us. Immediately,” Lizzie said, shooting Harper a hurt glance. “Why wouldn’t you tell us he asked you on a date?”