***
At the Castle Hill Lighthouse—long abandoned—the bonfire was the same scene as last year and the year before: everyone drinking various hard teas out of coolers and harder liquor out of pockets. Parents paid off the cops to keep an eye on us and allow us our fun.
Tucker and the guys wasted no time getting pissed out of their minds. I wasn’t a big drinker, but I thought about doing the same, to wash my mouth of the shit I’d said at dinner. Or to drown out what Ezra Wolfe had said at our first piano class.
My first time touching the keys in three years.
Why I’d picked Rachmaninoff, one of the most difficult piano composers of all time, was beyond me. To see if it was all still there, maybe. And it was.
Like coming home.
But harsh as he was, Ezra Wolfe had been right. I played without emotion because I’d buried it all, down in the depths and automatically, the way my family buried everything that wasn’t fine. Losing control was an embarrassment waiting to happen. Even taking the class was a risk. Touching the keys again felt like breaking a rule I’d never been brave enough to question.
Why now?
I shoved the uncomfortable thoughts away with practiced ease and spotted Harper standing with Dean Yearwood and XanderFord on one side of the bonfire, talking and laughing. When Emery Wallace headed to the lighthouse alone, Xander followed. I sent a silent prayer for his continued good health and well-being. That is to say, for Tucker to remain occupied elsewhere.
That left Dean and Harper. They made a good couple. They made sense. Perhaps the same way Elowen and I made sense. I don’t know what she’d get out of being with me—she didn’t know me, but who did? Being with her would be like scratching an itch, I supposed. What could I give her outside of an epic fuck and a laugh?
Not bloody much.
In moments, Dean was pulled away too, and Harper was alone. She wore a long maroon dress with some kind of gold pattern on it, and a sweater that was far too thin for a cool night on the Atlantic. She hugged herself, watching the black waves crash under a silver moon. I couldn’t leave her by herself. Chivalry demanded I join her.
That’s a proper excuse, right?
I approached slowly, hands up to show they were empty. “No assignments to be graded. No tests anywhere in sight.”
Her eyes flared, and I could’ve sworn for half a second she was glad to see me. Or maybe it was a trick of the shadows.
“Sorry?”
“Just wondering if I’m allowed to be myself or if I have to be on my best behavior.”
“Funny how being yourself and being on your best behavior are two entirely different things.”
“Walked into that one, didn’t I?”
Harper’s expression softened, grew beautiful in the moonlight. “I’m sorry I was awful to you yesterday.”
I waved my hand. “Water under the bridge.”
She studied me. “Do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Forgive and forget so easily?”
“Should I hold a grudge? Doesn’t seem karmically healthy. And Iwas rather dickish after piano.”
“You had every right.”
“Nah. It’s not my way.” I cocked my head. “Doyouhold grudges? Will I be paying for my terrible first impression for the rest of the year?”
“You didn’t make a terrible first impression,” she said. “A confusing one, maybe.”
“Confusing? Me?”
“Yeah, you.” Harper studied me, started to say something, then changed her mind. A short silence fell, and my usual banter and flirtation that came so easily with most girls became tongue-tied and lost with this one.
