Blue’s pickup pulled into the drive at a little past midnight with all the subtlety of the percussion section of a marching band.  He hadn’t been out all that terribly long, but it was long enough to figure out that drinking wasn’t going to do him any favors tonight, so he’d packed it in once he decided he couldn’t take another second of Maya St. Clair's drunken renditions of Tanya Tucker songs with eyes laser-focused directly on him.

He’d had a brief thing with Maya a couple years back, but when she’d wanted their relationship to get more serious than he was at all interested in, he’d cut things off.  She hadn’t taken it well at the time, and he wasn’t about to go back for a second helping of her kind of crazy.  So, here he was, back at the house where Harper Haley had taken up residence in the bedroom right down the hall from him.

He could only imagine how that would all go when all was said and done.  Doubtful he’d come out of this unscathed, he let the dread settle in the pit of his gut and let it acclimate there.  This would be his life for the foreseeable future. 

Thanks, Blake, he thought.  Thank you very much.

The house was dark, he noticed, and he was sure by this hour, Blake would be long since asleep, considering she’d have to get up for work early the next morning.  Could he be so lucky and get past Harper already asleep, too?  He guessed there was only one way to find out, although, sleeping in the barn wasn’t sounding all that bad at this point, either.

The screen door hinges creaked with an amplified volume in the quiet of the night as he opened it to walk inside, and he cursed under his breath.  He felt like a teenager all over again, hoping mom and dad wouldn’t catch him sneaking back into the house after sneaking out. He pulled his boots off at the door and tucked them beneath the wooden bench, then trailed up the stairs and tiptoed as quietly as he could manage past the bedroom Harper was staying in.

He saw her door cracked open, the soft glow of lamplight casting streaks across the hardwood floor.  Catching a brief glimpse of the empty bed, he paused, unable to help wondering where she might be. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally come face to face with her coming out of the restroom or something.  Avoiding her was the whole reason he’d left and come back this late in the first place.

His eyes quickly scanned what they could of the room through the tiny crack until he found her sitting at the desk in front of the window overlooking the darkened prairie behind the house.  It looked like she was writing in a journal of some kind, and memories loomed of her writing in an old journal she used to carry around back in their day.  He remembered how, sometimes, she’d write him little notes and leave them in secret places she knew only he would find.  They’d say little phrases that she knew only he would be able to get any meaning out of.

He tried to shake the memories from his head.  Those days were long gone, and those notes were all just some symbolic item of the naïve gullibility of a boy infatuated with a dream.  That boy was as long gone as the feelings that once dwelled inside him.

When he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the wood flooring of the second story betrayed him and creaked beneath him, causing Harper’s attention to turn toward the door. 

“Blue?” he heard her soft, questioning voice call out, but he had already darted quickly away.

He escaped to his room and closed the door securely behind him, hoping she’d just assume he was passing by and not standing like a creeper watching in on her. 

But what did he care if she caught him or not?  Hell, what did he care what she was even doing in the first place, for that matter?

He wanted to think he was immune to the curiosity about her that he didn’t want to admit had started growing from the moment he’d seen her in Jory’s truck.  He didn’t want to be curious at all.  Curiosity would just lead to answers he probably didn’t want to know, anyway.

Standing behind his bedroom door, he waited and listened to make sure he hadn’t been caught.  When he was satisfied that he’d gotten away without having to confront her, he started to undress and get ready to climb into bed.

But just as he had gotten down to his socks and briefs, he thought he heard the slightest sound of footsteps coming down the hall toward his room.  He stood frozen in place, unsure of what he would say to her if she decided to knock on his door.  He should probably cover himself up, he thought, looking down at his next-to-naked body.

He laughed to himself, though, at the thought of letting her have an eyeful. Let her see just what she threw away.

He waited, unable to move from where he stood in the middle of his floor.  He swore he could sense her standing, hesitating on the other side of his door. Was she really there, though, or was it just his imagination playing tricks on him.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, he gave up waiting, removed his socks, and climbed into bed, turning the light off so that the room was submerged in darkness.  He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or oddly disappointed that a knock on his door never came.