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“Of course.” My lips thinned.
“Don’t look at me like that, Miss Judgy Pants. I’m not looking for anything serious, and so long as everyone consents and is safe, I don’t see the problem.” She shrugged.
“No, you’re right. It’s your life, your body.”
I’d had a similar conversation with Noah. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was too judgmental. Or maybe part of me was jealous, and it came off as hostile.
But that was on me.
It was my issue.
My cell phone started vibrating like crazy again.
“Someone’s popular,” Harper said.
“Ugh, don’t. It’s my brother and his friends. They added me to a stupid group chat.” I opened the chat and skimmed the messages. “Apparently, it’s Hot Dog Tuesday. They want to know if I’m going to be around.”
“Tell them, yes, but you’re bringing a plus one.”
“I’m not asking Ryan to—”
“Not Ryan, silly.” She grinned. “Me.”
No.
Such a simple word. So why was it so freaking difficult to say?
No, I don’t want to come to Hot Dog Tuesday.
No, you can’t come to the house with me.
No, I don’t want to hang out with you and my brother and his friends.
But my mind was always the enemy, overriding my desire not to spend the evening with Harper and Austin and the guys.
“Cute place,” she said, letting her pretty gaze fall over the house.
“It’s only temporary,” I reminded her.
My visit to the housing office yesterday was a total bust. The water damage was worse than they initially thought, and it was going to take longer to fix it. They said they’d have an update by the end of next week.
“I like my own space. But if I had a choice, I’d pick living with three gorgeous hockey players any day.”
“Are you sure you’re not a bunny?” I asked.
“Please,” she huffed. “I don’t subscribe to the whole groupie thing. I just happen to have a thing for athletes. Especially ones who know how to handle their sticks, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed, practically choking on the air caught in my lungs.
Harper was something else.
Funny. Bold. One hundred percent unapologetic. She was beautiful enough to be a puck bunny, but there was something different about her.
At least, that’s what I told myself as I let us into the house and called out, “Hey, I’m home.”
“We’re in the yard,” Connor yelled, the back door slamming.
“I guess we’re going to the yard.”
