“Exactly.” She waves a hand. “But it’s just for the paperwork.”
“Oh. Right,” I nod as if anything she just said makes any sense. “So he wouldn’t mind you kissing strangers in the parking lot.”
She grins unrepentantly at me. “I did give the wallet back.”
“After you were side-tackled by your dad.”
She stretches her back, wincing or pretending to.
“Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Is that why you were crying?”
She stops stretching and looks at me with pursed lips like she’s trying to hold back some emotion; I can’t tell if it’s laughter or more tears.
“No,” she says, shaking her hands out and thencontinuing to stretch. She’s so easy with her body. Girls usually aren’t. And she’s back to the one-word answers, apparently.
“Then why?”
She narrows her eyes over at me from where she’s got her arms stretched over her head. “You’re pushy, aren’t you?”
I shift my weight, hyper-aware of the jeans crumpled near my feet. My fingers twitch. It would take two seconds to pick them up, fold them, and set them on the chair. Two seconds.
Rule #53: Don’t touch other people’s things without permission. Even if they’re in complete disarray.
I shove my hands in my pockets.
“You just seemed upset. Or…”
“Or?” Her eyebrows lift in prompt.
“Or sad.”
She lets out a little huff of breath, finally stopping with the stretching and picking up the cat again to cuddle. All the confident animation washes from her face for once. It feels like her shields are dropping. “Everyone usually just thinks I’m a bitch. No one ever sees how sad I am underneath.”
I frown. “I see.”
“You do, though. Huh.” She blinks at me, frowning back. Then her eyes squint. “Seriously. Whatisit that you’re wearing?”
“What?” I laugh. Always the non-sequiturs with her.I look down at my shirt. “Nothing designer, if that’s what you mean.”
She waves a hand impatiently. “No, like, is it cologne, or what?”
I laugh again, feeling the back of my neck heat. “Is it a good smell?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, it’s a good smell. Is it Calvin Klein or some other fancy shit? I don’t know what rich people wear.”
“I—Um.” I laugh again. “I don’t wear cologne. Just aftershave, sometimes, I guess. I don’t know if I put any on today.” I run a hand down my cheeks, excited as always when I get a little bit of stubbly resistance. All it means is I probablydidn’tshave this morning. So I guess it’s just…meshe’s smelling? I mean, I did take a shower this morning.
“Oh. Yeah. Well.” For the first time, Harper looks a little embarrassed. “Not that I care or anything.”
I suddenly realize I’m sitting on her bed.
In her bedroom.
And I’ve run out of things to say. It’s totally blank in my head, and all I’m doing is staring at a beautiful girl, suddenly excruciatingly aware we share a wall and a Jack and Jill bathroom, and I probably look weird as fuck.
I get to my feet and run a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Well. Thanks for letting me meet Sox.”
I head for the balcony door as she tosses out a careless, “See ya later, stepbrother dearest.”