Mine Would Be You (46)

Sloan pushes her mostly clear plate forward and rests her elbows on the counter, holding her head in her hands. “So, let’s get this straight. Good—no, great sex. Good friend as far as we know. Great personality. I’m just not seeing what’s wrong.”

I sip my wine amusedly as Harper looks at Sloan with pursed lips. “What is this, an intervention?” she mumbles in response, pouring herself a large glass.

“Harper,” I chide, raising my brows. “Stop avoiding it.”

Harper squints at me. “I see the resident therapist has entered the chat.” Sloan and I chuckle, but she continues, “Also, what is this? Attack Harper night? Can I breathe?”

“Just answer this, do you like him more than a friend?”

“I don’t know.” She sips, and I wait. “Fine. Yes. I think. I just don’t want to get in too deep. Then there’s expectations and rules and—”

“We’re not saying jump into it and get married, Harps,” I say with a shake of my head, knowing I’m being a bit of hypocrite, but I can’t take my own advice. “You push everyone away. You always jump ship before the ship can sail. But I think a small part of you really, really likes him. Even if you can’t see that.”

Sloan smiles softly. “We’re just saying, see what happens with him.”

Harper sighs deeply, and I see her shoulders untense. Like she was wound up and she’s finally uncoiling, even if it takes a damn intervention. “I will do my very fucking best.”

Sloan turns in her chair, and this time her eyes are boring into the side of my head, and I know it’s my turn. “Okay, wait, before I get attacked, I need dessert. Please,” I say and clear the countertop, putting leftovers in the fridge and throwing out the takeout containers.

Harper wipes down the counter and splits the rest of the wine between our three glasses as I reach into the pantry and pull out all of our favorites. Fudge Stripe, Twix, frozen bite-size Kit Kats and peanut M&M’s. Our pantry stays stocked with the goods.

I sit back down, popping a cookie in my mouth. “Proceed.”

“You have a date.”

“With Jackson,”

“Tomorrow.”

I look between them, trying to make sense of any of the obvious statements they just tossed around. “And?”

“Are you excited? Are you miserable? Are you nervous? What is going on?” Sloan rushes out.

I blink. “Yes, I’m excited. Yes, I’m nervous.” Even at the thought of the date, my blood warms and my cheeks heat up.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t kiss this weekend,” Sloan says, popping a candy in her mouth.

“Right? Like how?” Harper agrees.

“I said I wanted to take it slow. Sue me.”

“When you said slow, I didn’t think you meant like a slug.”

I gnaw on my lip, further irritating it after picking at it all day. “Well, excuse me if I don’t want to believe something is too good to be true. It’s just, it’s too good. Something has to be wrong.”

Sloan smiles softly as she shakes her head, her tight curls bouncing in harmony. “That’s not true, Nina.”

I raise an eyebrow because I don’t believe that. This whole thing, Jackson, is just too perfect. Part of me wants to believe it, believe that he is truly just that interested in me. That he’s just personified sunshine and he’s choosing to shine his sunlight on me.

But the larger part of me is just waiting around for the other shoe to drop.

Like it always does.

Harper’s sharp eyes are on me, no longer flicking with sadness or frustration, but instead a hawk-like focus. “I may avoid big time, but you live in a constant state of fear.”

Sloan nods in agreement. “You assume that wherever you step the ground is going to crumble underneath you. So half the time, you don’t even walk.”

Yeah, that’s pretty much what Marissa says. Although in slightly different terms.

I hide my smile because we know each other too damn well. “Okay, well you can hop off my ass because I like him. I’m doing my best.”

Harper screams. Not a bloody murder scream, but an I’m being chased but make it fun scream. If that makes sense. My lips curl into a grin as I pull the hoodie up around my chin at their excited faces at my admittance.

“I feel like such a proud mom, of both of you.” Sloan grins widely.

We all break out into laughter over our sugar high, and eventually, as the night gets darker and the honking of horns turns into every ten minutes instead of every three, Sloan makes her exit. She kisses us both on the cheek, her deeply conditioned curls brushing my cheek.

“Tell me everything, okay? I want to hear it all. Just have fun, babe.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” I say, and Harper and I both say “I love you” before locking the door. Harper and I clean up the living room, both preparing to retreat to our rooms. As we walk down the hall after leaving our living room dark and empty, I turn.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, searching her face for any sign of distress.

She rolls her eyes in true Harper fashion. “It’s a lot to process, but yeah, I’m okay. Now go, rest up, plan your outfit. I expect love and kisses and—”

“Good night, Harper,” I call over my shoulder before shutting the bathroom door, effectively cutting off the sound of her laughter. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I head into my room, where Jenko meows from his stretched-out position on my bed at my entrance.