Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Paisley

Harper wouldn’t look at me when she came out of the bedroom and joined me in the kitchen, but I knew she would sneak a glance at me anyway. I was too attractive not to.

Well, at the very least, I wanted to be. Maybe it was just me covering up my insecurities by joking about them, but did we really think Paisley of all people would do that?

Anyway, Harper was wearing pants now, which was kind of a shame. She slept in some cute panties.

“Seriously,” she mumbled, sinking down at the table where I’d set up the fanciest breakfast spread I could, “would it kill you to not break into my house for one day?”

“I mean, if it’s going to kill anyone, it’d be me.” I turned the music volume down a tick and sat down with her, picking up a piece of the brioche and biting into cinnamon-honey heaven, sweet and sharp flavors rolling around in my mouth. I sighed happily. “God, it’s so good I want to scream. I don’t know where I’m going to find brioche like it once you’re…” I swallowed the bread, a nervous sensation suddenly in my chest. “You know, once you bail.”

Harper looked away. “And that’s why you decided to break into my house to steal some?”

“C’mon. You can say thank you. Judging by you sleeping until almost seven, you really needed this day off.”

She was quiet for a while, picking at her brioche, taking a long sip of coffee, before she muttered, not looking directly at me, “I honestly really did. So… thanks.”

Sincerity gave me a nervous rush in my chest that I tried to push down. I leaned forward, pushing my food away. “Okay, so I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh, god.”

“Jeez, try not to be so excited. It’s your favorite person ever, Paisley, suggesting it.”

She rubbed her forehead. “I thought it was me deciding what we were doing on this… bucket-list tour?”

“Yeah, it is. But this isn’t about that. This is about my bucket list. Now I’m the one taking the bucket.”

“Taking the…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not even sure what figure of speech you’re confusing it with.”

She was so cute when she scrunched up her nose like that. I was going to miss getting that kind of reaction from her. I took a long breath, pushing down the racing of my heart, and I found I… couldn’t really say what came next.

Oh, god. I didn’t recognize myself not being able to say something. I was Paisley Macleod, human whirlwind. But I was… um, nervous. I squeezed my hands together and tried to let out the anxiety, but it didn’t go anywhere. I wanted to kick myself.

Harper gave me an odd look, her eyebrows raised. “Er… Pais? Are you okay?”

“Um. Yeah! I’m good.”

Concern flashed over her eyes, which was the most awkward possibility in an already awkward situation. She shifted closer to me. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s—nothing.” I took a huge bite of brioche, and I let a breath out slowly.

Dammit.I was scared.

“Pais?”

I sat up with such a jerk I banged my knees on the table. Harper jumped. I pushed the words out of my mouth in a tumble. “Help me out with my identity crisis.”

“Er—I beg your pardon?”

“You’re leaving, so it only makes sense.”

She stared at me. “I’m… not actually sure anything you’re saying makes sense.”

“Oh my god, it’s like you’re trying to give me a hernia.” I threw my hands up. “An identity crisis! You know what that is.”

“I do, but—in the first place, since when were you having an identity crisis?”

I collapsed against the table. With the words out there now, it was easier to speak, easier to let it out, like a wall had broken. “I don’t really know,” I mumbled. “A while, I think? Maybe like… when Aria first came to visit.”

She paused. “I can’t tell if you’re actually having a heart-to-heart or if this is a weird prank.”

I scrunched up my face. “It’s a heart-to-heart, Harper. Good lord.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.” She put her hands up. “I’m not typically expecting that kind of thing from you.”

“As if you ever know what to expect from me?”

“Yeah—touché, but still.”

I sighed, looking out the window at clear blue skies, the morning sunlight still a pale gold. I wasn’t a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, but even I had to admit Bayview was pretty in the mornings.

“So…” Harper started, speaking carefully. “What kind of identity crisis is this? And how does me leaving play into it?”

I took a bite of brioche, chewing slowly, before I answered. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of… uh… trying.”

She paused, studying me. “Trying… what?”

“Trying. In general.” I shrugged, turning back to her. “Of looking like I care about things. I dunno. I was talking to Kay about it yesterday, since she grilled me and wouldn’t let me escape. I’m tired of just being… you know, a weird little gremlin thing who vaguely annoys people.”

She raised her eyebrows high, but she didn’t say anything. I pouted.

“You can say it.”

She didn’t say what I’d expected. “You don’t think people like you that way?”

“Uh—well.” I scrunched up my nose, cupping my coffee and breathing it in. “I don’t think it’s about that, anyway. Just…”

She relaxed. “You want to… reinvent yourself. But you’re too afraid of how people will react… if they see you, what, trying to change things?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

She looked down, wincing lightly. “I get that.  Really, I do.”

“Please. You’re perfect. What would you have to change?”

She rolled her eyes, but she wouldn’t look directly at me. “I’m sure Emberlynn would say you’re perfect exactly as you are.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

“Come to think of it, why aren’t you talking to her about this instead? Isn’t she your ride-or-die?”

“Yeah…” I looked down. “But that’s kind of the problem. We’re stuck with each other. If I do something embarrassing, then I have to live with her knowing all about it forever. But if I embarrass myself in front of you, well, you’re leaving.”

“Oh.” She relaxed, looking at me with a small, dry smile. “I think I get it now.”

I tried to push out a big grin like usual, but it faltered a little. “By the way, if you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.”

She frowned. “I would never. I’m not about to betray your confidence. Even if you are breaking into my house to read my emails off my own computer.”

“Okay, that was probably a bit much on my part,” I admitted. “So if I forgive you for not telling me that you’re leaving, will you forgive me for that?”

“Ugh. Sure. Call it a deal.”

“You are the best, Harps, and I adore you,” I said, scooching my chair over next to her and squishing her in a hug. She grunted, but she begrudgingly put a hand on my back.

“So what are you even going to do, anyway?” she said, and I buried my face in her collar, still flushed with self-consciousness.

“Um… I dunno. What do you think I should do?”

“I really can’t be the one to tell you, Pais.”

“How can I be hotter?”

She made a sound that could probably pass for a duck call in a hydraulic press, somewhere in the back of her throat. “So… that’s your goal? To be hot?”

I pushed myself back from her, standing up, and I thrust my chest out. “Uh, duh. Look at these good looks. You think I’m going to let them go to waste?”

She didn’t look at me, the bastard. She focused on taking a small, careful bite of her brioche. “I think… you kind of have to decide for yourself what being attractive looks like.”

“That’s not an answer. Oh my god, I’m going to push you out the window.”

She gave me a look. “Is it not? Have you never seen anyone who other people think is attractive and you can’t see anything in them?”

I wrinkled my nose. “I mean, okay, I guess.”

“Tell you what.” She pulled up her phone, and she tapped at it for a bit before she handed it over open to a Pinterest search filled with stylish models. “Take this—”

“You have the Pinterest app on your phone? What are you, a sixty-year-old homemaking Christian woman?”

“I’m a baker,” she deadpanned. “Cake designs. They’re literally everywhere there. Anyway, take the damn phone and tell me some things you think look good, and we’ll go from there.”

I paused, taking the phone, a nervous sensation in my chest. I looked between it and Harper, pausing, and she narrowed her eyes.

“It’s weird when you have something on your mind and you’re not blurting it out.”

“Um… you don’t think this is weird or anything?”

She sighed, turning away. “Sometimes you want to reinvent yourself. I get it. No shame in that.”

“Have you ever done it?”

She scratched her head. “Yeah, I was a pretty gloomy kid. Decided to start caring about food and baking and kind of turned things around. I think it’s a natural human experience. And—come to think of it—” She paused, giving me a wide-eyed look. “I think Emberlynn said you did the same thing. When you got away from your parents.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh. We don’t talk about those assholes. I did kind of reinvent myself then, but like… that was survival mode, okay?”

“I see…”

I sat down opposite her, scrolling. A whole lot of models. All… tall, fit, beautiful. I felt nervous going through it, and I really wasn’t sure why. Maybe the fear of actually trying to measure up to any of them and the inevitability of embarrassing myself so much I’d shrivel up into a little husk and die.

“You look miserable,” Harper said lightly.

“Um… I dunno, I think they’re all kinda hot. That’s probably their thing.” I slid the phone back to her. She pushed it back towards me.

“Yeah, I know. They’re all photoshopped anyway. Just pick someone.”

“Um…” I scrolled through again, my stomach thick with anxious knots. Harper sighed.

“Paisley,” she said, finally. I jumped, hitting my knees on the table.

“Who? What?”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” she said. “You’ve never been one to do things in calm half-measures. Just go with whatever your gut is saying, that you’re ignoring because you’re scared of it.”

“I’m—” I scowled, but I caught myself, looking oddly at her. “Are you actually trying to encourage me to be over-the-top?”

She looked away with a sigh, a soft flush tinting her cheeks. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I want to make sure I get a perfect, clear vision of how obnoxious you are, so I don’t end up accidentally missing you once I’m gone. Who knows?”

I felt my stomach swoop, my heartrate picking up. I didn’t know why, just—it felt like I’d just been pushed off an edge and was gliding, not knowing if I’d drop.

But Harper wasn’t going to issue a challenge to me and escape unscathed.

I sat back in my chair, crossing my legs, and I said, “Please. I know you’re going to miss me so much you’ll be staring longingly at my picture all day every day.”

“I don’t plan on even having a picture of you.”

“I’ll send you one. And you can pine over it.”

She furrowed her brows. Come to think of it, maybe pine wasn’t the right word. I didn’t want to imply there was anything romantic between us, even after—well, things. But whatever. I’d never bothered with getting the words right.

“Forget that,” I said, waving her off. “We’re starting the bucket journey. Tell me something you’ve always wanted to do in Bayview.”

She looked away, frustration and relief in equal measures on her face at the change of subject. “Get some peace and quiet.”

“Great! Where should we get some peace and quiet?”

She put a hand to her forehead. “I was referring to… never mind. Hell, I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

“What? Oh my god.” I pushed the dishes away from her place and I sat on the table facing her. “I gave you all of yesterday to think about it!”

“I was avoiding facing reality.”

“Well, reality’s knocking, and her name is Paisley! C’mon, give me something.”

She shrugged wildly. “Shit, I don’t know. Floating campers? Like the kind Ms. Connelly rents out?”

“Great!” I jumped down from the table, taking her hand and tugging her out of her chair. “It’s a date. Let’s go right now.”

“Pais—for crying out loud, I got about two bites of my food!”

“I forgot about the food.” I dropped her hand, sitting back on my side of the table.