41. More like a growl

FORTY-ONE

MORE LIKE A GROWL

SHEP

I’m leaning against the side of my truck waiting for Harlow to come out of the athletic center, and my nerves are through the roof. The anticipation for our first time hanging out alone is causing my leg to bounce at an alarming rate.

A few of my fraternity brothers walk by, giving me passive head nods. I haven’t done much with them since the fight and Beckett getting expelled. While it's clear he was responsible for what happened, he still has some loyal friends who think he shouldn’t have gotten kicked out of school.

I’ve done my best to keep my mouth shut and hope that, as time continues to pass, the whole thing will be forgotten. I know Harlow is nervous about going back to Chi Kappa tomorrow for the Halloween party, but there’ll be so many people there I doubt anyone will actually notice us.

I pull my phone out and mess around with it, trying to keep myself distracted.

“Hey, lifeguard. Waiting for someone?” A voice that’s become a familiar melody in my life pulls my attention up from my screen.

I don’t know how she does it. I don’t know how every time I see Harlow, I swear she’s more beautiful than before.

She’s brushed out her hair and though it’s still damp, it’s begun to dry in messy waves. Her skin is glowing and her eyes have a twinkle in them that makes my pulse sky rocket.

Don’t kiss her yet. Don’t kiss her yet.

“Hello? Anyone in there?” she whispers when she’s just a few inches away from me.

“Hi, yes, sorry,” I clear my throat. “I’m just trying to figure out how you look like a model after competing.”

She gives me a playful smirk, then starts to walk around to the passenger side.

“Whoa, hold on,” I rush out, quickly trying to jog after her.

“What?” Her eyes widen.

“There’s just some things you will never do when you’re with me. One of those things being opening the door for yourself.” I reach around her, swinging open the car door.

She rolls her eyes as she gets into my truck. “You don’t have to do that, Shep.”

I shut the door once she’s safely inside and walk around to the driver's side. Once I’m in, I decide to push her buttons and lean over, grabbing the seatbelt. “Precious cargo,” I say as I pull the strap across her chest then clip it into place. “You understand.”

I plant a kiss on her forehead then start up the engine. The silence in the cabin lets me know I’ve been successful in my efforts and am under Harlow’s skin. She gives her famous side eye then crosses her arms and huffs.

“Oh, come on, baby girl. Let me have some fun.”

“Fun? I’ll show you fun,” she mutters just loud enough that I can hear but low enough that it sounds more like a growl than words.

“Yeah, what’s your move then?” I start to back out of the parking lot, then suddenly slam my foot on the brake when Harlow’s hand reaches across the center console and presses down on the inside of my thigh, inching closer and closer to the part of me that’s quickly becoming hard.

“Keep pushing,” she says with the same edge in her tone that drives me wild.

I raise my hands off the steering wheel in surrender and she relents.

“That’s what I thought,” she purrs. “Now, do I need to drive or do you still have some blood left in your thinking head?”

I choke on a laugh, then start to drive again. “Both heads have plenty of blood in them.”

“Right,” she says sarcastically. “Well, take me home, Shep Fords.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

After receiving very condescending directions, I park in front of Harlow’s building. Before we get out, she hesitates for a second and looks around the parking lot.

“Is everything okay?” My tone is laced with concern as I watch her draw her lip into her mouth and chew on it. She’s anxious.

“Yeah, I just…I’m sorry. Sometimes I get worried that Beckett’s going to pop up like he used to. It’s something I’m trying to work on,” she shares with me in a small voice.

I try to stuff down the anger that rises up in me. It infuriates me that she’s still constantly looking over her shoulder and worrying about that asshole.

“Well you’re with me, so honestly, let him show up. I don’t think he would try anything again.”

Her shoulders relax some. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Let’s go.”

We get out of the truck, heading up to the apartment. Harlow pushes into the door and calls out to me over her shoulder.

“Set down your stuff anywhere. My room is the one on the left if you need to use the bathroom.” She drops her things by the couch. “Are you hungry? I always make pasta after a meet.”

I wander in after her, placing my phone and keys on the round dining table they have in the middle of the open kitchen. I turn to give her my attention. “Yeah, that sounds great. Ever since you helped with dinner…” Harlow bends down to get a pot, her ass on perfect display. “I’ve been thinking about tasting you-I mean tasting your food, trying something you make.”

She whips her head around and smirks. “Am I making you nervous, Shep?”

Yes.

“No, not at all, just tripped up on my words there. Can I help?” I run a hand down my face in embarrassment when she turns back around.

“I’m okay. It’ll just be about fifteen minutes.”

Harlow starts moving about the kitchen, gathering different ingredients while she waits for the water to boil. Once it does, she gets to work making some sort of pasta and I watch her in awe. There’s so much more to her than meets the eye and it only causes my feelings for her to grow. That same thought I had when I saw her outside of Boulder a few weeks ago pops back into my head.

Slow down, Shep.

Harlow talks to me about swimming and her race while finishing up our plates then brings them to the table. Whatever she made looks and smells incredible.

I pick up my fork and Harlow stares at me.

“Yes?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, I have this habit of wanting to see people’s reactions when they take their first bite of something I cook.” Her words tumble out of her mouth in excitement and that ache in my heart comes back.

Honestly, it could be the worst thing I’ve ever had in my life and I’d still tell her it was perfect. But of course, I take a bite and it is perfect. “Holy shit,” I mumble through my chewing. “What is this?”

She squeals in delight then starts to dig in herself. “Lennon calls it ‘Harlow Hug Pasta’ because every bite feels like a hug. I don’t really know what it is other than something I’ve been making since high school with my dad.”

As she finishes her sentence, her eyes glaze over some and I get the feeling there’s a sentiment to this meal so I decide to press into her a little. “You cooked with your Dad a lot?”

“Yeah,” she chimes. “Like all the time actually. He’s the one who taught me most of my kitchen knowledge. Thanks, by the way, for being so kind to him and my mom earlier. He’s great, but Mom can be hard to deal with sometimes.” She sets her fork down and frowns at the plate. “You know, your mom treats me more like a daughter. Which, don’t get me wrong, means the world to me, but sometimes I wish I was closer with mine.”

I set down my fork and reach across the small distance, placing my hand on hers. “All parents show love differently, but I’ll be honest, I can see why you’d feel that way.”

Harlow gives me a sad smile, then shakes her head as if clearing her mind. “Let’s talk about those signs you and Wes showed up with today. Whose idea was that?”

“Mine,” I say, shoveling another bite of pasta into my mouth.

Harlow’s eyebrows shoot up. “No way, I would have sworn it was Wes.”

“You questioned if you were mine. I needed to make sure you know who you belong to.”

She giggles and I realize she hasn’t pushed away my hand from earlier. Interlocking our fingers, she gazes into my eyes. “Your confidence makes me want to be confident.”

“Well then I hope you know I never plan to stop making it obvious to everyone how I feel about you,” I respond with a sincerity I hope she can hear.

We finish up our meals and sit at the table talking more about various things, from our majors to why I became a lifeguard and so on. I can tell something is gnawing at Harlow though by the way she’s acting. She has so many tells, I don’t think she realizes it.

Every few seconds, she’ll start to open her mouth to say something then close it and let out a puff of air.

“Is there something on your mind?” I decide to just cut to the chase.

“I mean, kinda, but I doubt you want to talk about it.” She stares down at her empty plate while talking.

“Try me.” I give her hand a small squeeze.

“The fight.”