Harper’s lips curled against her knees in automatic pleasure at that voice.
Dan’s words were Pavlov’s bell and she was his giddy puppy, salivating for the treat of his attention. She lifted her head, not even trying to hide her smile; it didn’t feel right to try to dim this type of excitement.
Dan stood above her with two coffees, his crooked grin focused fully on her.
“I’m exhausted and one hundred percent blame you,” she said.
“Yeah, sure. All my fault.” He rolled his eyes. “I figured you were probably as tired as I am and in need of a caffeine boost,” he added, handing her a cup.
“Saint Dan, patron of caffeinated beverages and tired girls,” she said, taking the coffee and patting the spot next to her.
He sat close, their thighs touching, and even that contact had her heart feeling like it was jumping up and down on a trampoline.
“Still on for studying tonight?” Dan asked.
Harper nodded, swallowing down a gulp of coffee. “Yeah. My place?”
“Sounds good. I’ll pick up dinner. What do you want?”
“You don’t have to do that. I can make … something,” she said, gesturing her hand vaguely.
Dan shot her a teasing smile. “Really? Can you? Because I’ve seen your cupboards, Horowitz, and there’s a startling amount of Technicolor-wrapped foods in them.”
“Oh, my apologies to the health nut, I didn’t realize boxed mac and cheese is soooo much worse for me than Daleng’s greasy pad thai.”
“So you want Thai again?” Dan asked, taking another sip of coffee.
Harper gave him a sheepish smile. “Yes please.”
“That’ll be the third time in a week.”
Harper shrugged. “When it’s that good, why fight it?”
“I don’t know,” Dan said, drawing out the words. “I think Ekta’s Indian buffet we went to last Wednesday may be better. We should go back soon.”
Harper nodded, thinking back to the night.
They’d gorged themselves on curry and laughter, eventually rolling back to Harper’s apartment and deciding they were too stuffed to study. They’d put on a random movie, sprawling out on the couch and promising to hit the books as soon as their stomachs didn’t feel like they were going to explode, but they’d fallen asleep after the opening scene.
Harper had woken up hours later to the slow, steady rhythm of his heart against her cheek. Dan had held her cuddled against his chest, his body stretched across the couch and arms wrapped snugly around her, sending a punch of overwhelming affection through her. Her throat had constricted, and unexpected tears had pricked at her eyes, all the feelings she held so closely in check bubbling to the surface in that vulnerable hour of night—painful and wonderful all at once.
She had closed her eyes again, allowing his comforting scent to make her dizzy and happy as she nuzzled her cheek closer against him. She’d squeezed her arm across his stomach and latched on as tightly as she could.
Harper had wanted to take the feeling of protection and peace she’d found with him and keep it in her pocket—a reminder of how the moment glowed just for them, warming parts of her heart she had long left cold.
But the feeling wasn’t something she’d planned and therefore couldn’t be trusted.
It was the way life went. When you loved something, it left you, and the pieces you had to pick up after were sharp and sliced you open again and again.
Harper had opened her eyes, the gentle glow of the TV creating distorted shadows across the room. Her gaze had stopped at the pile of abandoned textbooks on the floor, her stomach clenching, the sudden, and all too familiar, shock of adrenaline bringing her body to attention.
That was also the problem.
There was no balance with Dan—her feelings bolting out of her like they were all or nothing—every other responsibility cast aside. Something about him encouraged her to shed her anxiety like a coat and bask in the lightness of a warm day.
And that was terrifying.
Anxiety was Harper’s guide, her constant companion. If she wasn’t anxious, there was no way she could still be on course. She’d traveled with anxiety for so long, it had morphed into a sick energy source she used on her career path. She didn’t know if she had the ability to succeed without it.
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.