A Brush with Love(42)

A few tears had overflowed from her eyes as she’d mourned the moments like this that she couldn’t have again. Moments she couldn’t want.

She had crammed her heart behind its walls, then pressed a soft kiss to Dan’s chest, allowing her lips to linger for a moment. She’d pushed herself up and moved off the couch, draping a blanket over Dan before retreating to her room.

He hadn’t been there when she’d woken up the next morning.

Coming back to the real world and the buzzing chatter of the atrium, Harper realized Dan had been talking to her, his head tilted and a sly smile on his lips.

“Sorry, what?” she asked, shaking off the memories.

“I said, ‘I’m winning.’”

“Winning what, exactly?” Harper set her coffee down and turned to face him with narrowed eyes.

The corners of Dan’s lips quirked. “At texting. You fall asleep first way more than I do.”

She gaped at him incredulously. “That’s not a thing.”

“You know it is, and you know I’m winning. You’re mad because you hate to lose.”

“Okay first of all,” she snapped, poking his chest, “I’m not losing. I can’t lose at a game I don’t know I’m playing. Secondly, that doesn’t make you better at texting. If anything, it means you’re the more boring texter and you put me to sleep. Thirdly, that isn’t a thing.”

Dan opened his mouth to argue, but Harper cut him off. “And fourthly, I don’t trust you to keep score. Ever.”

Dan let out a barking laugh. “Such vicious words from someone who doesn’t know the most basic game in millennial social interactions.”

It was Harper’s turn to try to argue, but he silenced her with a finger pressed to her lips.

“And I figured you would accuse me of fudging the numbers, so I kept track,” he said with a smug smile, thrusting his phone at her.

Harper snatched it and started scrolling. He had screenshotted countless late-night conversations.

“You screenshotted all of this? You’re such a dork!” she said, trying to hide her dismay that she did seem to fall asleep first.

“I’m the dork? Harper, the other night you had a one-woman debate about the merits of amalgam versus composite fillings. I even stayed awake for that. But you couldn’t stay up when I was telling you about how Die Hard is one of the best modern sociological commentaries on collectivism in our society? Admit it, I’m a texting hero.”

She stared at him for a moment before dropping his phone on the couch and grabbing both of his ears.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about at this point, but you’re so infuriating, you make me want to shake you,” she said and gave his head a mild rattle.

He laughed at her, activating his dimple. Harper wanted to kiss that damn dimple off his smug face.

“I’m sorry I’m such a better friend than you,” he said, still laughing. “I could tutor you if you want. Give you a textbook and you’d be an expert in no time.” He reached out and tickled her sides, forcing her to drop her grip and squeal like a child.

“Stop it,” she screeched, grabbing at his wrists.

Her hand shot out and squeezed right above Dan’s knee, a spot she’d discovered was extra ticklish, and he made a high-pitched squeak then sandwiched her grip between his large hand and the warmth of his thigh.

These were the moments she adored most—their talking and teasing made her giddy with an abandon she hadn’t felt since childhood. In these moments, they had the potential to be anything. Everything.

It would be so easy to say she changed her mind, tell him she wanted more. He wouldn’t ask for clarification or reasoning. He’d simply go from holding her hand as her friend to holding it as someone more.

The intimacy was broken as Dan’s eyes slid over Harper’s shoulder, his face going blank. He moved his hands off her and cleared his throat, angling himself away. Dan picked up his coffee and gave it his full attention. Harper’s head swiveled to see what had distracted him.

All three of her friends were back from the ticketing table and were staring.

Hard.

Indira’s jaw hung in an open-mouthed grin, while Thu sported a knowing smirk. Lizzie’s eyes were wide with wonder, and she lifted her hands, jabbing her index finger through her circled thumb and forefinger in the universal sign of banging.

STOP IT, Harper mouthed with all the silent force she could muster. They started giggling. They really were the absolute worst.

Harper turned away from them, and their laughter quieted as they moved to a different couch across the atrium, probably a better vantage point for their incessant spying on her and Dan.

Harper continued to stare straight ahead as the awkward silence grew. After a moment, Dan ducked his head to catch her eye, the tension dissolving as they both started to giggle.

Dan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, large hands cradling his coffee cup.

“Are you going to that?” he asked after they got their laughter under control, pointing his chin toward the ticketing table.

Harper scrunched up her nose. “Me? No.”

“Why not?”

Harper shrugged. “I didn’t even consider it. I’m not great in crowds.”

Which was an understatement.