Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Harper

The noodles were great. Lance, a man with the world’s most intense expression and a glass eye, cooked them to exacting perfection in the open kitchen every time, that sterling-silver masculine glare of his lit in stark contrast by licking flames, and whenever I saw him in the kitchen I knew the noodles were going to be good. He didn’t disappoint.

Emberlynn had clearly been looking for an outlet—she dumped topics on me for about thirty solid minutes without me getting a word in, not that I could have if I wanted to, knowing nothing about everything she was saying. Mixer standards and licensing for samples and an argument about vocal chops, inane crossfade presets, and an irrational amount of anger at Ableton—like a good friend, I listened along, nodding, agreeing with whatever the hell she was talking about, and she looked like she could breathe again once we got to the end of her rant.

“I’m so sorry, I got so carried away,” she laughed nervously. “Do you want to listen to what I have so far? It’s hot garbage, but at least there might be a line in there somewhere.”

“Hit me.”

It wasn’t hot garbage at all, no surprise Emberlynn was underselling herself. Unlike last time she’d taken a gig with this label, she hadn’t lost herself—her style was still clearly there, a clean and classic beat that was danceable through and through, even if it was still basic and underworked. Still, she looked like she was confessing to a murder. Poor girl was up in her head something major.

“Before I tell you what I think,” I said, “I’m curious what you think.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s brilliant, probably it’s all trash.”

“If you had to guess what I was going to say about it…”

“You kind of like it, in a way?”

I smiled wryly. “Much more enthusiastic than that. I think it’s good. I think you’re doubting yourself too much.”

“Me?” Emberlynn raked her hand back through her hair. “I would never.”

“Honestly, just keep steady. Keep going at it like this, and you’ll have it in the bag.”

“Mm. If you say so.” Her expression was twisted up in self-doubt as she turned back to her noodles, poking at the thick-cut strips of beef tongue on top, scallions drifting away on the soup surface. Behind her, the door chimed open as Charlie and her friend from the school came in, chattering away in that way that said they must have had a day off today because they were probably both a drink or two in. It was an odd ache in my stomach thinking how I’d end up in a place where I wouldn’t know all these things about everyone around me.

I pulled my focus back to Emberlynn, and I put a hand on her arm. “You don’t have to do it all right now,” I said. “You’re already making a ton of progress for how much time you have left. Maybe take a break.”

Emberlynn pouted. “I don’t do breaks.”

“You could stand to learn from Paisley. The girl’s never worked hard a day in her life.”

That got a grin out of her. “Eh… I think it’s nice the way we contrast each other.”

I pursed my lips. “You contrast each other plenty in how clean your houses are. You don’t need to contrast by beating yourself up too.”

Emberlynn paused, looking down at her soup again. “Hey, this is random, but… how close are you with Pais, anyway? I feel like you kinda drop off the radar in the winter, but she was still talking about going to harass you.”

I kept my expression impassive as I drank my tea, setting it down gently. “I can’t shake her. She keeps climbing the tree behind the house and coming in through my roof. She basically kept breaking into my house all winter, even when I was trying to keep to myself.”

She hung her head. “Why am I not surprised… should I buy you a padlock?”

Dammit, I could have bought myself a padlock. Mister Hartley at the hardware store treated me like a spoiled daughter of his and probably would have accidentally forgotten to charge me if I went in to pick one up. And I wasn’t going to think about why I hadn’t just done it already. “I doubt it would stop her,” I settled on saying.

“Hm.”

She looked like there was something she was weighing whether or not to say, and I didn’t want to hear it. The less said about me and Paisley, the better. I cut in with, “So, any reason you still look uncertain about the song?”

She grimaced. “Just… it’s nothing.”

“Ah. Sure is a lot of feelings for nothing.”

“Yeah…” She buried her face in the noodles, picking up the bowl and slurping at the broth. “You’re telling me,” she said finally, setting the bowl back down, still avoiding my gaze.

“Everything okay with you and Ar?”

“Yeah. Just… worried about myself, I guess,” she mumbled, fussing with her chopsticks. “Her newest launch didn’t go as well as it could have, but she’s been picking it up like there was never a problem to begin with. She’s way too good at everything. And sometimes I…” She shrugged, shrinking further into herself. “I worry if I’m… measuring up.”

I pursed my lips, studying her. “Has Aria said anything to make you feel like you aren’t?”

“Never. She wouldn’t dream of it.” She laughed drily. “She acts like I’m the impressive one…”

“I think you are plenty impressive. You’ve come a long way in your music.”

She winced. “Yeah…?”

“Yeah. I mean it. It’s been a long, bumpy road, but you’ve overcome a hell of a lot of stuff.”

“And gone back to the same label that screwed me over the worst,” she sighed, looking down.

“I think it’s a sign you’ve got guts. And strength of will. So—all things considered, you’re doing well. Aria’s doing really well, too, but… all that money mostly comes from her getting obscenely lucky with her first launch. Strip that part out, and I’d say you two are doing equally well.”

“Mm. Maybe.” She scratched her neck. “I feel like she’s still miles ahead of me even then, but… she’d probably say the same thing about me.”

“Exactly. You can’t trust your brain. Getting an outside opinion was the right move.” I paused. “On that note—have you talked to Paisley about this?”

“Oh, um… nah. Not really.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Sore subject? Everything okay between you two?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” She shifted. “I don’t know. It’s kind of felt… different ever since Ar and I came back to Bayview. Like Paisley’s not quite… a hundred percent herself. Or maybe just that our relationship isn’t a hundred percent right. I don’t know what it is, but it feels kind of like we’re both…” She shrugged, chewing her lip. “Putting on a performance with each other, maybe. I don’t know. I’m whining a lot.”

“I asked. You’re certainly allowed to share.” I finished my soup, setting the bowl down with a solid thump. “Have you talked to her about it?”

She sighed. “What would I say?”

“I mean, you could try everything you just told me, but maybe that’s a batshit idea.”

“It’d be awkward.” She knocked back the rest of her soup, too, setting it down gently before she pushed her chair back, signaling to Lance. He nodded, going back to the range—starting the takeout order for Aria. Emberlynn looked back at me, and she let out a sigh. “I guess that’s all there is to it, huh? Scared of making things awkward and weird.”

I turned to the window, watching the old birch tree planted in front of the shop bending in a heavy wind, a paper napkin whipping from a patio table and across the redbrick plaza. “I could talk to her about it instead, if you want,” I said airily. Emberlynn made a noise somewhere in her throat I don’t think she meant to make.

“Um—no thanks. I mean, I appreciate it, but I don’t want to look like that much of a loser, like I have to get someone else to talk to her for me about how I’m awkward.”

I put my hands up. “Hey, sometimes it’s just easier to have someone else step in and handle things. There’s no shame in it unless you want to make things harder for yourself on purpose.”

“Well, maybe I do.”

“You? Shocking.”

“I know. I know.” She stood up slowly, picking up her bag and pitching her phone and headphones back inside. She avoided my gaze as I spoke. “I just… I need to handle it myself. But it’s a good thing we had this conversation. Kicking my butt to make sure I actually do talk to her about it instead of putting it off.”

I stood up with her, my legs aching. I wasn’t sure why the bakery shift today had taken it out of me, when I’d done the same thing almost every day for years now. Maybe it was just my body breaking down a little knowing it finally had a rest day tomorrow.

I’d die before I admitted I was grateful for it, though.

“Heading out now?”

“Mm. I think I feel better about continuing the piece now. Thanks for, you know, hearing me out.”

“If you want to pay me back, you can buy a cake.”

“Yeah, trust me, I know,” she laughed, swatting lightly at my shoulder. “Thanks, Harps. Walking back with me?”

I looked out the window. “I’m gonna take the scenic way back. I could use a walk in nature right now.”

She raised her eyebrows at me. “Something on your mind?”

“Not even sure,” I lied. “Just feeling weird. Hoping maybe a walk in the park will help.”

“Is that why you’re closing tomorrow?”

Paisley had even gotten Emberlynn to believe it. Emberlynn should have known better than to believe anything Paisley was saying. I could have just told her myself—that it was all Paisley’s idea and that she was insisting I go do stuff with her tomorrow instead—but I wasn’t ready for the conversations that might have entailed. “Yeah, I guess,” I said. “Just feeling… contemplative. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Still just bouncing back from seasonal depression, I’m sure.”

“I know it’s tough. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?”

It wouldn’t really be fair for someone like me to keep asking for things from other people, especially if I was going to abandon everyone before too long. But I wasn’t going to say that. It would probably cause a fuss—Emberlynn trying to tell me I did deserve nice things, or something like that. I smiled politely. “This was helpful. Thanks, Emby.”

She glowered. “If it was helpful, you could at least try saying my name right.”

“Thanks, Emberlynn Morgan Wood.”

“You’re impossible,” she laughed, taking a step back. “Well—catch you later?”

“Sounds good. Have fun with Paisley at dinner.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

I pulled my jacket back on as I pushed out through the old black wood door, coming into the blustery weather, wind throwing my hair around my head, and I let my feet carry me toward the park.

There were reasons I didn’t get close to people. I’d been… letting myself forget them. But with a move, a new life, I could try again. Do better this time. And not let anybody help me—with anything.

If I was going to be Harper, I kind of had to.

∞∞∞

I woke up with a groggy stir, feeling something moving. I waved a hand around in front of me, swatting away whatever was moving, and I jolted to instant wakefulness when I found Paisley on top of me. And swatting had led to my hand on her boob.

“Someone’s energetic,” Paisley said, looking down at my hand groping her. I jerked myself back, sitting up in bed so sharply I hit my head on the headboard. My face burned, even though my body and my chest ached badly for…

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?”

“Uh, duh. I told you I’d come see you in the morning.” She gestured to the windows on the side of the room, thin curtains in pale pink letting in crisp light from a clear blue sky. I hadn’t slept in past sunrise in ages. What happened to me? “And voilà,” she said. “Morning.”

I pursed my lips. “A normal human being would come knock on my front door.”

She laughed. “Since when was I a normal human being, Harps?”

“I’m not wearing pants.”

“That’s okay. You have nice legs.”

I was going to throw her off the bed. I hugged the blanket tighter to my chest. “Oh my god. Go outside and wait for me to join you. Please just do one thing normally.”

She grinned. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Peace. Solitude.”

She planted her hands on either side of my shoulders and leaned down towards me, and my head went racing, wheeling off into oblivion. Wild hazel eyes, so alive, stared straight into me, and up this close, pinning me to the bed, I was…

“Cinnamon-honey brioche,” she said. “With orange-flower honey butter on top. And a black Colombian coffee. Light roast. Does that sound good?”

“I—ugh. Sure, I guess. Did you bring me that?”

She beamed wider. “Sure, I guess isn’t the right answer. Try yes ma’am.”

I felt a flush of self-consciousness burning in my face, but—I found I couldn’t not do it when Paisley told me to like that. I had no idea what the fuck was wrong with me, but I heard myself say it, softly, numbly—obediently. “I—yes, ma’am.”

Her eyes flashed with something I couldn’t read. I burned, looking away.

“I did what you asked. Now get off of me.”

“You know how to make a girl happy.” She turned and rolled off the bed, freeing me, and I told myself I didn’t want her on top of me again. “Okay, if I’m being honest, it’s your own cinnamon-honey brioche, but I brought it up from the bakery and heated it up. Now, come join me for breakfast.”

She wrenched the blanket off me, and I fumbled grabbing for it again, settling for just hugging my knees into my chest when she flung the blanket to the floor.

“Paisley. Let me put on some damn pants.”

She blinked. “I forgot you said you weren’t wearing pants.” And then, openly, nakedly, she straight-up checked me out—looking over my legs and my pink underwear with an appreciative expression—before she turned on her heel and headed back for the door. “I’ll put on some jamming tunes for breakfast while I wait, if you insist on wearing pants.”

Well… I kind of didn’t. Frustratingly, what I really wanted was to strip naked and have Paisley look at me like that all over, tell me what to do. Maybe just one more time before I left…?

Dammit.I kicked myself mentally and stood up, face burning as I got dressed.

Being in love was completely off-limits for me. And so was sex.

Even if I’d gone there with her twice already. Third time was, in fact, not the charm.