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I didn’t go to Millers with the rest of the guys. Instead, I holed up in my room, video-called Scottie so that he could show me his new hockey cards, and then settled down to study.
Noah and Connor were determined to include me though, texting me non-stop. It was easy to ignore the group chat messages, their stupid fucking live-text commentary on their night so far. It wasn’t so easy to ignore the video messages. Because I didn’t see their goofy antics or hear their tone-deaf rendition of Nickleback’sSaturday Night’s Alright for Fighting, I only saw her.
Harper.
She was behind the bar again, serving my friends and their girlfriends with the dude that worked there. He made her laugh as they worked side-by-side to serve my asshole friends. But I saw the shadows around her eyes.
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d texted Noah.
Mase: Should Harper be working? She still looks a bit pale.
Noah: She’s fine. At least, she says she is.
When I didn’t reply, he texted again.
Noah: Want to ask her yourself?
Mase: Nope. Just didn’t want her flaking out again and ruining your night.
Noah: You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re worried about her…
Mase: Well, she is Rory’s best friend and did you or did you not tell me I had to play nice.
Noah: Touché asshole. Tou-fucking-ché. But seriously, she seems okay. Been flirting up a storm with Ward and Leon.
Fuck.
Jealousy snaked through me, only fueled by the video he sent me of the two rookies leaning over the bar to watch as Harper prepared some girly-looking drink.
Noah: She’s got a fan club. I think Ward is going to try his luck, unless…
Mase: Unless what?
I played dumb.
Noah: Unless you want me to tell him to back off.
Mase: He’s welcome to her.
Noah: If you say so.
Mase: I do. Now quit sending me texts, I’m trying to study.
Noah: All work and no play makes Mason a dull boy.
Mase: Go annoy someone else.
Fuck knows he’d annoyed me enough. Planting a seed of jealousy inside me that showed no signs of stopping. I’d seen Ward in action; he was a hit with the ladies. Harper would probably eat him alive, but that was his problem.
Just then, my cell phone vibrated, and I got ready to tell Noah to fuck right off. But it wasn’t Noah. It was a Venmo notification.
Harper Dixon sent you $25.
A text followed from an unknown number.
Unknown: I forwarded the money for the stuff you bought me. I hope it covers it. Thanks again for looking after me. H xo
