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“Harley!! Are you up there?” Dana’s voice calls in the distance.
As quickly as it happened, it ends. I shove Grant off of me. “Fuck,” I whisper, pulling all my clothes back on.
Grant looks like he’s shaking as he tucks himself back into his pants and does up the front of his shirt.
“Shit, shit, shit, what do we do?” I ask. There’s only one way out and one way in.
“You go and I’ll sneak out after,” he replies as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.
I reach for the trap door.
“Wait–”
I feel Grant’s hand on my shoulder. He tugs me back toward him. “Your hair.” He combs his fingers through my hair, intense focus on his face. “There. That looks better.”
As I sit there, I realize Grant Neville is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He’s always just been my dad’s friend. Extended family almost. In all these years away, I haven’t even paid him a thought.
What a waste of time.
“We shouldn’t again,” he says suddenly.
I know he’s right. Yet, it stings.
“You know that, Harley. Right?”
“Yeah. Yes. I do.”
Grant furrows his brow, hand resting at the nape of my neck.
“Harley?!” The trapdoor shakes. “Did you lock yourself up there?! What’s going–”
Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him. “Thanks. That was fun.”
“Yeah, it was,” he whispers back.
And then, I leave his embrace. I give him one last look over my shoulder before hurriedly opening the trap door and scurrying down to Dana. “Jesus, can’t a girl get a moment alone around here?!” I snap.
“You missed the fireworks.”
I have to hold back a laugh. “No, I didn’t.”
Dana frowns at me like I’m crazy. “We should…start cleaning up.”
I follow her down the hillside. I still feel that gravitational pull back to the treehouse where Grant lies in wait to make his escape.
I didn’t miss the fireworks. Not even a bit. I had a whole fireworks show of my own.
Too bad it’ll never happen again.
6
GRANT
LA traffic is no joke. Just as bad if not worse as people say it is. I’m running late to coffee with Kent, left too late to miss the midafternoon rush. I should have had him come up to my office in Studio City instead of me having to go down to Beverly Hills. But since everything that happened at the Fourth of July party…I’m more than happy to bend over backward for Kent.
It’s the least I can do for fucking his daughter.
That’s such a crude way of putting it, especially when it felt much more spiritual than that. It felt like our souls really met each other for the first time. Maybe I’m just a delusional old man, but for the first time in a while, I really felt something. Harley made me feel something.
