“It’s just … this has never happened to me, but I don’t really remember what happened last night after we got here and it has me kind of … yeah, freaked.”
Dan’s free hand reached up slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I think one or two extra bottles of wine might be responsible for that,” he said, letting his fingers linger on the side of her throat. “We left Lizzie’s apartment and came back here with pizza and drinks. I stayed to make sure you were okay and didn’t get sick during the night or anything.”
“I guess…” She sawed on her bottom lip with her teeth. “I guess what I don’t remember is if we—um, if we…” she waved her hand, searching for words. Dan stared at her blankly.
“Did we hook up?” she blurted out.
Dan’s brows shot up so high, they almost disappeared into his hairline. After a moment, a small, gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“Of course not. We’d both had way too much to drink. I would never do something like that.”
As if to prove his point, he took a step back from her. She instinctively reached for him but dropped her hands. Space was good. Space was right.
“Oh, thank God,” she sighed out, a bubble of relief filling her chest. Harper didn’t miss the flash of insecurity that crossed Dan’s face, but it was gone in an instant.
“I mean—not that I think hooking up with you would be bad. I’m sure you’d be great—ohmygod no, that’s not what I—I just meant … I would want to, um, remember it…”
Heat flashed in Dan’s eyes and Harper clutched the hem of her shirt, needing something to hold on to. That was not the right thing to say. That was not part of the Just Friends Contract. Her throat locked up and she began coughing spastically.
Dammit, why am I so bad at this? Harper screamed at herself. Dan so willingly teetered on the gentle edge of vulnerability while Harper sprinted in the opposite direction, screaming the wrong thing all the while. She felt the impulse to keep talking, not wanting to leave enough time for her previous words to gain purchase and stand awkwardly between them.
“So, um, did you change my clothes?” she asked, twisting the edges of her T-shirt. Might as well belly smack into the embarrassing details.
Dan’s eyes flashed to her pajamas, lingering just a beat at her chest. Harper assumed it was more likely because he could see her heart body-slamming itself through her shirt than a fascination with her itty-bitty titties, but her nipples were still standing tall, so anything was possible. Regardless of the reason, she felt a pleasant flush of heat at the attention. His gaze shot to the floor and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
“Well, I got you to your room and uh”—he cleared his throat—“you took your dress off…”
Harper’s entire body flushed with embarrassment, and she brushed a hand over her face.
“I didn’t see anything,” he added hastily. His eyes landed on her chest again and she knew he was lying. Her mortification swelled in her stomach.
“I grabbed your T-shirt from the floor and threw it on you. Same with the bottoms. I tucked you in and stayed with you for a bit, but eventually moved to the couch so I wouldn’t scare you when you woke up.” A violent blush erupted on Dan’s cheeks, making her heart inflate. The coffeemaker was the only sound in the room as they both tactfully looked at the floor.
Dan lifted his gaze and met her eyes with a new seriousness.
“But you should know that we kissed last night. When we left the party. You weren’t drunk then, but just in case you forgot … I figured you should know everything that happened between us.”
Harper wanted to open a small window in her chest and release the thousands of butterflies that were fluttering through her body. He was good and kind, and in that moment, her heart beat only for him.
Not willing to fight the instinct, she reached out her hand and cupped his cheek.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” she whispered, looking into his blazing green eyes, waves of tenderness and excitement unfurling deep in her belly. “And I do remember the kiss.”
Heat and affection radiated off Dan, tempting Harper to give in, to get closer—plans and control and focus be damned. But even if she did hand over her mind and body and told her anxiety to go to hell （as if）， a clock would still be ticking down to her departure. There was no reconciling her few months left when Dan still had three years ahead of him—an obstacle that easily crushed any vulnerable infatuation.