I’ll pick the one that won’t stand in Harper’s way.
“It’s still bloody cheatin’, innit?”
I tossed the papers on the coffee table and picked up the orange pill bottle, squinting at the label. A different medication than the one I’d been prescribed before. Maybe it’d work…
Or maybe it’ll give me a heart attack. That’ll be fun.
I set that aside too and rubbed my eyes. First things first.
“Harper.”
Just saying her name made everything feel lighter. Better. The headache behind my eyes was driven away by the memory of her smile as she watched me play with that rascal of a brother of hers.
She wasnotgoing to be pleased that I’d paid for her car repairs, but then again, I wasn’tnotgoing to pay for them either. Impossible. I might’ve been a lowdown cheating bastard, but I was still a gentleman.
“Gentleman” isn’t the first word she’s going to use when she hears I paid the bill…
A grin spread over my lips, just as Easton walked in the door, carrying his motorcycle helmet. He narrowed his eyes at me.
“And how was your day?”
“Smashing,” I said. “My father has entered me in that bloody contest I wanted to avoid, is insisting I take medication that might send me into cardiac arrest, and tomorrow I might be expelled because I’m going to beat the ever-loving shit out of someone or someones forbullying the girl I care about. But none of it matters since I’m failing out of school anyway.”
Easton listened, nodding. “Makes perfect sense. And you’re smiling because…?”
“I’m going to ask that girl to go to the Halloween festival with me, and I suspect she might say yes.”
“Of course.” He started for our room. “Just don’t go having cardiac arrests or getting expelled.”
“Why, have you gone and fallen in love with me, Easton?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But…you don’t suck.”
“I’ll take it.”
***
On the way into CHA the next morning, my path dovetailed with Xander Ford’s, and we walked along the quad together.
“Xander, my friend, tell me what’s good,” I said. “Going to the Halloween festival this weekend?”
“Yep,” he said, pushing his black square-framed glasses up his nose. “I hadn’t planned on it, but I suppose it’s the thing to do. Are you dressing up?”
“Of course,” I said. “A 1920s gangster.”
“Al Capone or…?”
“No. LessScarface, moreSinners.”
Xander stared at me blankly, and I laughed. The bloke was a certifiable genius in quantum physics but could scarcely name a movie if his life depended on it.
I waved a hand. “The primary objective is to look hot in a suit. What’s your costume?”
“A scientist,” he said, glancing away almost shyly.
I laughed. “Of course. And which lucky lady will be on your arm?”
“Harper.”
