COLTON
“Give me another,” I say to Tessa across the expansive bar top. She braces her hands on her hips and gives me what I’m sure is meant to be a scathing glare. It’s like when you see videos of little kids getting angry, scrunching her nose up that doesn’t look even remotely intimidating, only serving to make the rest of her features look pinched.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough. I highly doubt Ms. Mathers would be happy with you abusing the bar like this,” she bites back. There is no real malice in her tone, just pretend annoyance that will soon turn into quippy banter. It’s become our thing.
“Just one more, and then I will leave you alone I promise. I need it to get through the night,” I plead, holding my hands together in front of me, praying to the keeper of the bar.
“Fine, but this is the last one, the cotton candy is meant to be used asgarnishfor drinks, not for you to eat your feelings,” Tessa hands over a fresh pink cotton candy cone before she saunters away to the other end of the bar.
I turn around, bright pink sugar in hand, to watch Harperemerge for the evening to walk through the guests and network with patrons on the main floor. She’s wearing a navy pinstripe suit tonight, a single button holding the center closed with nothing underneath to shield her should it decide to pop free.
That button is now my greatest ally and enemy number one.
I pluck a piece from the top of the pink fluff and shove it into my mouth, trying to sooth the ache for something sweet.
It’s been three days since I tasted her, three days since I laid my confession at her feet, and three days that I’ve been aching to touch her.
All my energy has gone into giving her space, giving her a chance to miss me, to realize this draw between us goes beyond the physical pull. I severely underestimated my lack of control and Harper’s enjoyment at my torture. Or generally stubbornness.
I had started off very reasonable in my pursuit. No kissing, no intimate touches and no inappropriate comments.
Easy.
No problem.
This is my place of work.
I hadn’t anticipated was how accustomed to that contact I had become in such a short time. Knowing what it felt like to touch her freely, and then physically restrain myself was worse than never knowing the feeling at all.
So, what was my brilliant solution? Shoving cotton candy in my mouth every time I want to touch her. So now I’m suffering in a different way. Sugar rushes every hour, feeling slightly sick, definitely a cavity, and my tongue alternates throughout the day between blue or pink staining.
As Harper makes her way over to where I wait at the bar, she eyes the candy in my hand but makes no comment.
She stops next to me, leaning her elbows back against the edge of the bar casually, eyes fixed on the stage. The jacket,already fighting for its life, pulls taut across her chest. I lean my head back and dramatically moan, shoving the entire cotton ball into my mouth, it’s the only thing standing between me and begging.
“Tessa and Marcus will be taking over the main duties tonight. You and I have somewhere to be, offsite. Sadie is monitoring everything from home and will be keeping me informed as the night moves along if something comes up.” She finally looks up, eyeing me cautiously. This isn’t the first time I’ve accompanied her to offsite meetings, but usually something is in the books or set up ahead of time. I move to open my tablet, afraid maybe I missed something on the schedule for this evening, but Harper stops me, placing a hand over the tablet.
“This isn’t something that was planned, b—but it’s something I want to do. With you.” She’s looking at me so earnestly, worrying her bottom lip like she thinks I would ever say no to her.
“Of course, should I get Wade as well?” Please say no. Please, please say no.
She smiles at this. “No, Colton, this is just for us.”
“You didn’t bringme out here to kill me, did you?” I joke, stretching my legs after the hour drive as I step out of the town car onto the gravel parking lot. We are standing in front of a worn-down brick building with enough flickering neon beer signs in the window to induce seizures. There is a small sign hanging above the door that readsDay’s End. It’s rusted with a dent in the bottom center that looks suspiciously like the outline of a forehead. The light above it is either busted or needs a new bulb, but based on the cobwebs that drape around it, it’s been home to a family of spiders for quite some time.
I help Harper out of the car and check my watch, “Are yousure this is the right address?” It’s eerily quiet in the parking lot, deserted, save for a single car and a few motorcycles farther towards the back of the building. Maybe weshouldhave brought Wade.
Harper takes a deep breath, “It’s the right place, come on.” And off she goes, striding up to the door with the same confidence she approaches everything with.
The door opens and I’m throttled with raucous laughter, bets and threats being shouted from the opposing ends of a pool table. Glasses clink together as drinks are poured and downed in a practiced dance.
It isn’t all at once, the silence that descends. It’s a slow trickle effect that that sweeps from one end of the dingy bar to the other. The silence only holds for a beat before the shouts and clapping pick back up, now all directed at the entrance where a handful of people have abandoned their partners or games to greet Harper with excited hands or hugs as we walk in.
Other than with Sadie, I have never seen anyone be openly affectionate with Harper, and even that is few and far between in public. But these people lift her up in their arms and clap her on the back like she’s a soldier home from the front lines.
“Where the fuck are we?” I whisper to myself, feet stuck in the sand while Harper is getting swept away by the tide of admirers.
She turns around then, realizing I’ve fallen behind. For the first time in my life, I am utterly speechless. She is wearing the most beautiful smile I have ever seen, beaming ear to ear.
