Chapter Three

Harper

“Marcus, I know what I’m talking about. Trust me, I’ll be fine.” I sigh, folding my arms across my chest. He doesn’t think a visit to see my best friend is a good idea. I mean, we’re dating, so I get his hesitation. He’s putting his girlfriend on a plane to see her lifelong best friend, who happens to be a Navy SEAL with a friend stable filled with vagina hungry, muscled monsters. Marcus doesn’t have muscles. He’s kind and he’s thoughtful—more intelligent than I am, if we’re being completely honest.

“I don’t want you going. I don’t know why you even want to go!” he says, his voice loud—tenor demanding.

I wince. “Don’t yell at me. If you don’t understand why I’d want to see my best friend for his birthday then you don’t know me at all.” This is officially our first real fight. “It’s a trip back home for me.” Mostly to see Ben, but it’s still within driving distance to my parents.

Marcus has dark, chocolate-colored skin, and the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. He’s wearing a plaid button-up shirt and a pair of pressed khakis. He’s the poster child for Harvard in every way, shape, and form. His father attended, as did his older brother, and Marcus is…safe. He lives a secure life, free of any encumbrances that could affect our relationship negatively.

His brown eyes turn down in the corner. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Harper. You mean so much to me. It just worries me. That’s all.” If the tables were turned, I know I’d feel some hesitation in letting Marcus go. “Don’t forget about me, okay?” He cups the side of my face and leans in to peck my lips with a warm kiss. I stiffen a little because his mood swings give me pause. I’m not well versed in relationships, but I have certain expectations regardless of my experience. No yelling is certainly on that list.

I kiss him back, wrapping my hands around his neck. “You’re going to be soaking in texts the entire time anyway. You won’t even know I’m gone,” I reply. “Ben needs me, Marcus. He always has.” Admitting it out loud forces a lump in my throat. I smile through it because Marcus is studying me with a critical twinkle in his eye. He asked me straight up, before we made our union official, if I had feelings for Ben. I told him I didn’t, but that was a surface answer, because of course I have feelings for Ben. I’ve tried, and I’m not sure how to not have feelings for him.

Standing on the edge of forever, I can only save one person from spiraling into the abyss. It will be him.

Always him.

Even though that answer may never change, I’m able to live with it now in a way that makes it bearable. Ben chose his life and I chose mine and those decisions weren’t conducive to anything more than a long-distance friendship. It would be a bold-faced lie to say I’m not nervous about seeing Ben after a year of separation.

Marcus leans away from our embrace and sets his hands on top of my shoulders. With a wide grin he leans forward and presses his lips against my forehead. “We can order take-out. We can rent that Rom Com you wanted to see. How does that sound?” he asks, eyes hopeful.

My stomach flips, the excitement of seeing Ben tomorrow encompassing everything else. “That sounds great, Marcus. Chinese from the place next to campus?” I ask.

He nods. “Surprise me,” he replies, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He pulls out a few crisp bills, all neatly organized by denomination, and slides them into my hand. “Something with chicken, maybe?” His last test is tomorrow, I finished mine today. It makes sense he’d send me for food. Marcus returns to his contemporary desk by the floor-to-ceiling window of his condo and bends his head down to examine his text book and note cards.

I grab my oversized bag and sling it over my shoulder and lock his door with the key I keep on my key ring. We’re close to campus, so I rarely use my car. It stays in Marcus’ parking garage. His apartment is beautiful compared to the block cell dormitory I share with a nympho named Nancy Cartgrove. She squeals like a pig and peeps like a baby chick during intercourse and the noise cancelling headphones Marcus gifted me for my birthday aren’t strong enough to block out her sex life. Mostly I stay at Marcus’ apartment now. When his parents come to visit I have to hide my toiletries and empty my drawer.

Marcus says they’re liberal minded, accepting folks, but I’d never want them to think I was that kind of girl. I haven’t even told Ben about the relationship yet. At first it was mostly because I wasn’t sure if it was going to last, and now it’s because so much time has passed the awkwardness has reached a fever pitch. My phone chimes from inside my cavernous bag. I dig my cell out as I walk toward the restaurant, pausing every city block to wait for the crossing signals.

I’ll be able to pick you up tomorrow! The text from Ben reads. Butterflies invade my stomach again and I actually skip a little. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get out of work early enough. The exclamation point tells me he’s just as excited. He never uses them.

Cars honk, and the cross light is still red. I tap back a quick message. I’m so excited!

A card shop with a bright pink sign outside flashes at me as if to signal divine intervention. Stopping, I peer in to check out the display of pop-up birthday cards. One immediately catches my eye and I run inside to buy it. I already sent him one on his actual birthday, but I don’t want to show up empty-handed.

I pick up the Chinese food, a few various dishes I know Marcus will like, and head back. He studies for another twenty minutes after I return, and we end up having to reheat our dinner in the microwave. The movie isn’t as funny as it was slated to be. One of those movies that shows all the funny parts in the previews. Memories distract me from the screen in front of me.

It’s a good thing the movie is a comedy, because in no time at all I’m smiling like a lunatic as I remember birthdays from my past. When I turned fourteen and the girls at school made fun of my flat chest, and pretty much everything else about me, Ben raided the girls’ locker room to put frosting inside their shoes. It was during the wedge clog phase. Ben was never very stealthy, and I remember being worried he’d be caught and would get in trouble.

That was a birthday he single-handedly turned around, by himself. My cell phone vibrates with a text in front of Marcus on the sleek coffee table.

Leaning over, I scoop it up quicker than I should have. The message reads, Don’t be shocked. I even washed the sheets on my bed. It’s from Ben, and my smile fades into a blush. My pale skin proves an awful, telling quality. There’s never any question if Harper is embarrassed.

“It’s Heidi,” I say, biting my tongue. The lie came too easily.

Marcus is laughing at the movie and shrugs. I’m unsure why I even told him who it was to begin with. Reporting to a man isn’t something I ever want to do.

“I have to use the restroom,” I say, because I obviously tell him way too much anyways.

Marcus nods, but doesn’t take his eyes off the TV, the blue light casting his face in shadows.

Shutting the door behind me, I sigh. That’s totally inappropriate. I’ll pack extra sheets for the sofa, I send back. My thumbs hover over the buttons to type more, but I hold back.

If you don’t think you can keep your hands off me, then do what you must, Ben replies.

Shaking my head, I laugh. The knock on the door makes me jump. “What are you laughing at, Harper?” Marcus asks, voice aimed at the doorjamb.

My heart leaps into my throat. “Nothing. I’ll be out in a second.” Slipping the phone into my back pocket, I turn on the sink and wash my hands. Marcus is waiting when I sling the door open, a small smile plastered on my face.

He unzips his jeans and lifts the toilet seat.

“I can Uber it tomorrow morning,” I say, trying to change the subject.

“I’ll bring you,” he replies, looking at me over his shoulder.

Smiling, I nod. “Is the movie over? I need to finish packing.”

“It’s paused. Go pack. We can finish watching it later,” he says.

I go into the bedroom and slide my phone out of my pocket, hitting the vibrate button before setting it on the dresser. I open the leather weekender and toss in a bottle of perfume. Marcus saunters in a few seconds later.

His eyes land on my cell phone. I swallow hard and a chill hits me. “Say goodbye to me properly?” I offer. “What do you say?” With a soft hand, I graze the side of my body and unbutton and unzip my jeans. His eyes follow my red fingernails.

He crosses to me, wraps his arms around my waist, and pulls me to his chest. When his lips hit my neck, the rush of fear is disguised by the pretense of lust. I can’t describe what he’s making me feel, but the way my nerves are frayed, I’d call it a near miss. Ben is joking, but his texts would seem like something more sinister to Marcus. It’s because I lied about my feelings for Ben and no one knows it but me. A dirty secret that will torture me for the rest of my life. It affects me even when I take away its power and call it friendship instead.

It’s the only logical explanation.

Marcus makes love to me slowly, languidly, and completely. I forget why I was uneasy in the first place. Still, after Marcus falls asleep, I go to the gym and chasse step and jazz square until I can’t breathe.

++++

I shift uncomfortably in my seat as the pilot tells us we’ll be landing soon. Marcus’ words as he bid me farewell still linger in my mind. He told me not to do anything he wouldn’t do. I’m not even sure what that means. I called my friend Heidi to ask. Heidi is a serial dater, she’s Harvard Premed, and she knows men. Some people are born with the gift, and others struggle to cobble together the man formula. Unfortunately, I fall into the latter category. We spoke until I had to board my flight and she told me Marcus has a typical, nothing to worry about, case of jealousy.

I’m also seeing my parents while I’m back west, and she thinks that factors into why he’s upset about me going without him. He hasn’t met them. I’m not sure I want him to. That would make our relationship something I’m not sure I’m mentally ready for. One thing is for sure, boyfriends should respect the best friend status. Heck, they should respect their girlfriend enough to trust their decisions at the very least.

It’s almost a shame classes are out and I have more time to worry about stupid, trivial things like this. The fact that women have these worries on a daily basis shocks me. Maybe it’s because boys were never on my radar growing up. Maybe it’s because my best friend is the opposite sex, but I’ve never given relationship issues the ability to worry me.

Now that it’s here, I wonder if it’s because Marcus means more to me than past flings. The realization sends my heart into a mass exodus of beats and pounds. That’s the other thing about me. I’m not in the habit of letting people get close to me. That guard definitely came from being bullied while growing up. It’s not a flaw, though. Quite the opposite. It’s made my skin so thick nothing can penetrate into the fortress of my heart. Once there, you’ll never leave.

Shaking my head as I toss my pretzel bag into the flight attendant’s trash bag, I vow to push Marcus and relationship issues from my mind in favor of enjoying myself with my time away from school. My classes are paused and I’m finally free from tedious obligations. I help head the Naturalists Club, and I’m a part of the Yearbook staff at Harvard. When you pair classes and my part-time job at the cafeteria, my time is rarely my own. This is the first real break since Christmas vacation. I enjoy being busy, filling my days with things and people I enjoy, but there’s nothing like going home.

Home for me is both people and a place. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to have my schedule jive with Ben’s. It’s why it’s been a year since I last saw him, and as difficult as that’s been, I know as soon as I see him it will be like no time has passed at all. That’s when you know you have something that will last forever. It’s as if that little piece inside you, that’s reserved for that person, and that person only, recognizes the little piece inside them, and they acknowledge each other. You become whole.

I pick my cuticles and wonder how much he’s changed this time. I’ve seen photos of him and via video chat, but Ben changed almost completely when he became a SEAL. His physical appearance morphed into what you’d expect, and something he’d never in his wildest dreams thought possible. He had Lasik done almost immediately, so his face isn’t hidden by a pair of dirty glasses sliding down his nose. That was the easiest change to swallow. His long, lean muscles grew and grew until I accused him of using steroids one day while we were chatting via video. He laughed and flexed a bicep, and then told me steroid use is illegal for SEALs.

I guess blaming medical enhancers was easier for me than acknowledging he’d become an entirely different person. Ben looks the part, he isn’t an impostor any longer, and that, on some subconscious level distanced him from our friendship…and me more than the 3,040 miles of space.

The plane’s wheels touch down and the pilot begins taxiing to the gate. My nerves strum along because I’m finally here—in the non-stop sunshine of southern California. I switch my cell off airplane mode and stare at it, waiting for my missed texts and emails to bubble up.

I tap out a quick message to Ben. Landed, and send it quickly. My thumb hovers over Marcus’ name, but I don’t tap it. I’ll call him later when I’m settled. After six and a half hours, I’m still not sure what I’m feeling about Marcus or why I’m feeling anything other than normal. Time away from the situation is exactly what I need.

The aircraft comes to a stop at our gate, and then I hear the resounding clicks of seat belts unfastening even though the fasten seat belt light is still illuminated. Mine stays snuggly wrapped around my waist. I send a text message to my mother to let her know I arrived safely and I’ll see her soon, and then reply to an email from a potential club member. Ben’s text slides down from the top of my cellphone.

What are you wearing?

Shaking my head, I reply, Tanning oil and a bathing suit. SUNSHINE! I’d never admit I prefer the seasons of the East Coast. Not out loud, at least, but the tumultuous weather suits my personality. The snow storms are fun and when the leaves change color in the fall, I can’t stop staring. After living in Southern California all of my life, with one season, the sun season, I was surprised to find how much I missed out on. I text again quickly, A black tank top and jeans.

What color is your sweater? I know you aren’t sitting bare armed on an airplane seat.

Standing from my seat, I grab my bag and make my way, like cattle herding, to exit the plane. I laugh to myself as I think about Ben’s message. I tuck my phone into the oversized beige sweater and readjust my leather weekender on my shoulder. Ben would find me first even if I dyed my hair pink and gave a false description of my outfit, so there’s no need to respond.

A lightness takes over as I head toward baggage claim, where I’m meeting Ben. I pass people wheeling heavy suitcases and families toting tired children and by the time I step foot on the down escalator, I’m vibrating with excitement.

“Harper,” Ben calls. I don’t have to look far. He’s standing at the bottom of the escalator holding up traffic, holding a huge pink balloon that says happy birthday. He’s written my name at the bottom. Well, it says Harpee, a name he hasn’t called me in a long time. The fear and anticipation turn to dust the second I throw myself into his strong, familiar arms.

I bury my face in his chest and breathe in the scent of Eight & Bob. He’s worn the same fragrance since the day he discovered it was JFK’s signature aftershave, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the most comforting smell I’ve ever encountered. Ben pulls me to the side to let people pass, but I still cling to him. “Let me get a look at ya,” Ben says, leaning away, handing me the balloon.

I press my lips together in a firm grin as I take the stupid balloon from his hands. “Ben,” I say, swallowing over three hundred sixty-five days down and letting right now soak into awareness. “Pink is my favorite color,” I drawl, yanking on the ribbon.

Ben shakes his head. “I hate to admit this, but Boston agrees with you.” His eyes flick to every part of my body, but hold on my face. “You look beautiful, Harpee. I like your style, too.” This isn’t Ben flirting, like it would seem to a stranger. This is Ben, the kind man who understands how to treat a woman. Even a best friend woman. He always has a compliment for me.

“You don’t look so shabby yourself. Switch up your steroids? Your arms look big,” I quip, grabbing his biceps with my hands. “My fingers can’t even touch anymore!” I exclaim with mock outrage.

He rolls his eyes. “Your fingers could never touch.” Leaning in closer, he whispers, “If you think my biceps are thick, you should see my.” I clamp my hand over his mouth before he can finish.

Shaking my head, I ignore his joke. “My fingers could touch. Don’t lie. You’re not some high and mighty hero in my eyes. I know the person suffocating in all of that muscle tissue.” I let go of his arms and take a step away from him, suddenly worried what people might think.

He laughs, tilting his head back and flashing his bright, white smile. His jaw is perfectly square and he has dimples by his eyes when he smiles wide. I learned early on, he hates those little dents, but seeing them now, on the person he’s become, makes me realize those smile marks might be the only cute thing left about him. He’s handsome. Ben is tan and tall, and every woman who passes looks at him more than once.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ben says when I stay silent. “I’m illegally parked.”

“You did not!” I chirp, as we start walking. I’m the one who lives and dies by the rules and he’s the one who makes his own. Question everything, Ben once told me. Don’t take everything at face value. Just because someone says something doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to do it better.

Sure enough, a cop is circling his pick-up truck when we step through the automatic doors. “It’s my girl’s birthday and she’s been flying all day,” Ben says, jogging up to the officer and motioning to my balloon. I manage a weak smile, but feel like I might combust from anger. This is a typical Ben move. “Please don’t give us a ticket on her twenty-first birthday, sir.”

The cop looks at me over the bed of the truck. I flash a weak smile. I know exactly how to get my barb in during this situation.

“He’s a Navy SEAL, sir. He’s used to doing things a little differently than the rest of us. He would have never parked here if he didn’t think he’d be late for me. His muscles might have gotten in the way of the No Parking sign, you know?” I let my smile filter wider. The cop grins at me. “Please. It truly is my birthday and I assure you he won’t ever double park again.” Not in this spot at least.

Ben’s face is red and his lips are pursed, his gaze lighting me on fire. I dropped the SEAL word in conversation with a stranger. I lick my finger and hold it next to my head while the officer turns to head to his cruiser parked behind Ben’s large, black truck. He snarls at me, but can’t hide his smile. Ben drags his thumb across the front of his neck and points at me with his forefinger at the same time.

The officer returns with a warning, wishes me a happy birthday, and leaves to attack another car double parked several feet up. “You’re welcome,” I say when we’re situated in the cab, my balloon bouncing off the ceiling behind our heads. “I should have let you flail, Ben. You know how I am about the law.”

“You don’t have to always be so perfect, you know? It wouldn’t kill you to let loose every once in a while.” It’s easy for him to say now that he’s this beautiful, glorified man.

“I’m still the geeky girl I’ve always been. It’s not so easy for people like me to let loose.”

Ben pulls into traffic and looks at ease behind the wheel of the big vehicle, one bulky arm propped on the top of the steering wheel. It smells like him in here and I take in a deep breath and relax a touch. “But I’m only here for a weekend, so hopefully we can let loose as long as it doesn’t involve anything illegal.”

He chuckles. “I’m employed by the government, Harper. I don’t break any serious laws. I double parked because I wanted to see you sooner. I’d also like to point out that you don’t look like a geek anymore, so you should probably stop referring to yourself in that way. It looks desperate.”

He glances over, a grin in place. His brown eyes flutter a couple times before he turns his attention back to the road, waiting for my retort. “It doesn’t matter what you look like, Ben. It’s what’s inside.”

“I beg to differ. I’m a prime example,” he replies, palming his wide chest with a free hand. “You know I’m the same person even if I don’t look anything like what I used to. People treat me one way because they don’t know who I really am. You’ve never known how beautiful you are. It’s so bad that people probably think the low self-esteem thing is for attention.”

I scoff. “That’s not even close to the truth. I’m confident.”

He nods. “I know that, but do others?” I fold my arms across my chest, and he continues on, “I got us concert tickets for tonight. We’ll go see our parents now to get that out of the way.”

I laugh. “I do actually miss my parents,” I say. “What concert?” I ask, my voice a little too loud.

Ben laughs. “A wee bit excited, huh? Just your favorite indie rock band of all time,” he says, sighing in a big, exaggerated way.

“No way,” I say. “Cold War Kids?”

“Yes way. We need to be pre-gaming by five, so I hope you don’t want to spend too much time hanging out with the parental units.”

I squeal so loudly, I have to cover my own ears.

“You better wear something illegal,” he replies, wincing at my excitement.