She considers that for about a nanosecond. “Nope. That’s not it.”
“Harper.” I start walking toward the door. “You’re being a crazy person right now.”
“I don’t give a shit.” She grabs my arm like a vise and halts me in my tracks. “What happened with Wyatt? And why are you so determined to hide it from me?”
Getting her to abandon this course of conversation is about as likely as convincing a junkyard dog to relinquish a raw filet mignon. I let out a sigh of surrender.
“I haven’t been hiding it from you, Harper. I’ve been…” I press my eyes closed. When I speak, my voice is so soft it sounds like a stranger’s — someone broken beyond repair. “It hurts me to talk about it this, okay? Even with you. It hurts just tothinkabout it.”
“But—”
“No.No. If I try to tell you what happened right now, I’ll fall apart.” My eyes crack open to meet hers. I hope she can recognize the sincerity in my gaze. “I cannot afford to fall apart today. It’s taking all my strength just to hold myself together enough to make it through this photoshoot. So… please. Let me get through this. Afterward, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”
I think she’s going to bulldoze my excuses and demand answers, pushing me for more details despite my pleas, but apparently I don’t know my best friend as well as I thought I did because she doesn’t say another word. Before I can brace myself, she’s hauled me into a hug so tight it makes my ribs ache.
“Harper—”
“Just shut up, okay?” she whispers into my hair. “Shut up and let me hug my best friend. Because, seriously, she needs a freaking hug right now. Even if she hates them.”
I press my lips closed. My eyes are pricking with tears.
“And don’t you dare start crying,” she orders gruffly. “I just got your makeup perfect”
“Cow.”
“Mule.”
“Bitch.”
“Priss.”
We both laugh, still hugging tightly.
We stand like that for a long time. Too long. For once, I don’t shrug off her affection or fight her embrace. I simply let her strength flow into me. And for the first time in over a month, I think that maybe, just maybe, I might not be entirely alone.
Two
“Just fuck me up.”
- A caffeine-addict placing an order with the barista.
“Come on, people! This is a romance, not a war drama. I needpassion. I needchemistry. I need you tomove close enough together that we don’t need a wide-angle lens to capture you both in the frame…” Sloan’s frustrated command is nearly drowned out by the mechanical whirr of the wind-machines.
I sigh and shuffle a step closer to Grayson. He quirks a sardonic brow, amused by my reluctance to get near to him.
“Kat—”
“Just shut up, okay?” I grit my teeth and take another step. “I know you’re overly fond of the sound of your own voice, but this will be a whole lot easier if we don’t speak.”
His green eyes flash in challenge. “Fine by me.”
“Great,” I snap.
“I’ve always thought actions speak louder anyway, kitten.”
I open my mouth to retort, but I don’t get the chance.
His hands fly out and land on my hips. Before I can protest, he hauls me hard up against his bare-chested body. I squeak in surprise as the force of our collision causes the wind to whoosh from my lungs. My breasts flatten against his firm chest muscles. He doesn’t wait for permission; he certainly doesn’t ask for it. Without an ounce of hesitation, his hands slide from my hips around to the small of my back, his long fingers skimming the top of my ass through the thin dress, exerting enough pressure to plaster me against him. It’s a carnal grip. Proprietary. Like he owns me, regardless of whether I want him to or not.