Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I whip around to my phone, eyes wide with Pure. Unfiltered. Panic.
Macy’s face immediately registers my distress. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Who is it?”
“It’s Easton!” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down, even though my pulse is screaming in my ears. “At the door!”
“Why?!”
I think I’m gonna faint.
He knocks again, and suddenly the only reasonable option seems to be hiding in my closet. Or climbing out the window.
Not in this dress, you don’t…
“Harper?” he says through the door. “Your dad said I could come upstairs. Um. Is that okay?”
“What in the flipping hell is he doing there?” Macy whisper-hisses, arms flailing.
“I have no idea,” I whisper-hiss back, scanning my room as if I might find a way out of this nightmare. I consider the window again.
The dress suddenly feels too tight. Too formal. Too heavy.
Too everything.
Oh.
My.
GAWD!
“I knew it was bad luck to put this stupid thing on.” My hands fumble, trying to get the zipper down so I can get this dumb dress off. “Why did I let you talk me into this!”
“Do not blame me for this!” she argues, the tiny butterflies on her shoulder straps mocking me.
There’s another knock. “Harper?” Silence. “You in there?”
He’s pressing his ear to my door, I just know it!
Macy is delighted by this. Practically buzzing. Who wouldn’t be? This tea is piping hot.
I stare at her, wide-eyed, mouthing, What do I do?!
She just shrugs, thoroughly enjoying my meltdown. “Stick your head out the door and tell him to leave.”
Leave? Hell no!
“Macy, I don’t want him to leave!” The confession slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. Even though I have no clue why he’s here, I’m surprised by how much I do not want him to leave.
Also: I don’t want him to see me like this—caught in the most absurd, embarrassing situation ever—but the idea of making him leave and missing this chance to talk to him feels worse.
Macy’s eyebrows shoot up. “I see how it is. I was right! You’re totally into him.”
“You are not helpful,” I grind out miserably, pressing my palms to my flaming cheeks. “Help me! What am I supposed to say?!”
Macy snickers again.
“Maybe start with ‘Hey, I’m not ready yet. Gimme five’?”
“Right. So I don’t act like I’m casually putting on a prom dress for fun.”
I mean, let’s be real. How often do boys show up at my house unannounced? Answer: Never. I’m not the kind of girl who has guys hanging around, stopping by, or messaging me all day long. My phone isn’t constantly blowing up with notifications, and I’ve never been the girl guys pursue.
But tonight?
Easton is here. In my house. Knocking on my bedroom door.
I am not letting this thrill go to waste.
I want to know what it’s like to be that kind of girl.
Easton lurks outside the door. I can hear his feet shuffling against the carpet.
“Hey. Harper?” I realize with horror that he’s not just knocking—he’s actually trying the door handle. “Is everything okay?”
“Don’t come in!” I shout, immediately regretting the volume of my voice. This is every bad dream I’ve ever had in the history of bad dreams coming true all at once, minus the dream where I’m naked in front of my AP English class.
He jiggles the door handle again.
I am seriously going to kill him.
“Would you at least say something?” He pauses. “I know you’re in there.”
“I’m fine!” I lie, my volume increasing ninety decibels. “Just give me a second!”
In a desperate attempt to salvage what little dignity I have left, I dash to the closet, yank open the door, and grab the first thing I see—an oversized hoodie. Brilliant, right?
Wrong.
I try pulling it over my dress, but it’s a disaster from the start. I immediately get stuck, thrashing like a trapped animal, trying not to snag the dress fabric, instead managing to tangle myself in the hoodie’s arms.
Oh, and the hoodie is dirty. And it smells. I kind of want to just curl up and die inside it, a shell of the woman I was ten minutes ago.
“Harper, seriously, what’s going on?” Easton’s voice drips with concern now, which only makes everything so much worse. “Do you need help?”
Has he never heard of a little thing called privacy? What if I wasn’t wearing any clothes?
“I’M FINE!” I shout back, my voice embarrassingly loud. “For the love of God, Easton, can’t you just wait?!”
I don’t hear him move away.
What does he think I’m doing in here? Napping?
I tug at the hemline of my hoodie, successfully managing to yank it down over the front of my dress, the universe finally on my side. Unfortunately, I look ridiculous.
Sequin-covered skirt sticking out from the bottom of a sweatshirt I bought from a secondhand store? Hair jutting out in a thousand directions? Not a good look for me.
“Is he still standing there?” Macy asks.