46. Goodbad, maybe both

FORTY-SIX

GOOD OR BAD, MAYBE BOTH

SHEP

The Chi Kappa house is vibrating as the music blares at an ungodly volume. I don’t mind the bass, though, and the songs are pretty good, but I won’t be able to enjoy myself until Harlow gets here.

I feel like a bit of a tool wearing only gray sweatpants and this neon mask, but whatever. It’s a frat party—let’s be honest, I fit in. Wes decided to wear black sweatpants and a Scream mask. It’s weird being here after formal, but thankfully the house is dark with the exception of some flashing lights, so nobody can really see me anyways.

It’s a little after ten and I’m starting to grow uncomfortable that Harlow and Lennon aren’t here. Mostly because Wes won’t stop nagging in my ear about what he hopes Lennon is wearing. If I have to listen to his weird fantasies for another minute, I’m going to need to get drunk. Not really, but I might have to find a way to sneak off.

I don’t have plans to drink more than a few beers with what happened last time I was here. I’ve also noticed Harlow doesn’t really drink so I don’t want her to feel singled out. There’s also the ever present need to be on guard and I can’t do that if I’m drunk. Just as I’m about to walk outside, I get a text from Harlow that they’re here.

“U GOT ME” by THIEVES and CATZE starts playing and as the bass builds, so does the anticipation in my stomach. My eyes scan the room until they finally land near the front of the house.

Wes smacks the side of my arm and points towards the door. “Holy sh?—”

“Shut up.” I cut him off and make a beeline towards my blonde and her best friend.

As I get closer, my steps start to slow down as I’m able to really take in the sight before me.

Wes was right. Holy shit.

I lift up my mask and it takes a few seconds for her gaze to meet mine, but when it does, a very playful smirk appears on her face. She walks over to me and stops just a few inches short. My breath hitches in my throat as I rake over her body with a heated glare. Trailing up her long, muscular legs, I feel my mouth literally go dry. The red leather shorts she’s wearing, if you even want to call them that, look more like bikini bottoms and not one part of me is complaining. There’s a sliver of skin showing between the waist of the shorts and the bottom of the white corset and it sets off a fire in me. What really sends me over the edge is the realization of what exactly she is: a lifeguard—a very sexy lifeguard.

I pick up the whistle around her neck and read the paper attached to it, a scowl forming. “Clever.”

“It was all Lennon,” she responds sweetly.

I use the lanyard around her neck to pull her into me, her hands landing on my bare chest as we collide together. “Well go ahead then, why don’t you put the tip in your mouth and blow?” I turn the whistle around and hold it in front of her pouty lips that are painted in a similar red.

Harlow’s mouth parts just a little and a small puff of air escapes. “You’re lucky I like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” she clips, then glances around quickly before pressing her lips onto mine for just a few seconds.

When she pulls away, her cheeks are flushed and the heaviness of her breathing pushes her tits up even higher. This is going to be torture.

Wes and Lennon join us and he looks as enamored with her as I am with Harlow. They seem to be up to their usual antics, bickering and bantering over who knows what, but there’s a moment where I take in the fact that all four of us are hanging out and it feels like a dream coming true.

The party plays out the way they all do. After a certain amount of time, people start getting too rowdy, I get annoyed, and Harlow seems to feel the same way since she’s been clinging to my side for the last hour.

The house was set up to look similar to a haunted house, but it’s really just a bunch of cheap decor covered with fake blood and various colored lights.

I don’t know what it is about the whole thing, but despite being here with Harlow and our friends, something feels off. I can’t explain it or figure out what exactly it is, but after the first hour of being here, I get the feeling something just isn’t right.

I’m sure my continued questions to Harlow asking if she feels okay are probably bugging her, but I just want to know if she feels at all the way I do. It’s probably just the fact that Dad hasn’t gotten back to me about an update on Beckett and there’s way too many dudes in masks here for my liking.

I check my phone and it’s almost midnight when Harlow nudges into my side and asks if I’m the one who’s not okay.

I don’t want to scare her or ruin the night, but I guess maybe my energy isn’t the best either. It would be easy to just tell her not to worry, but I don’t know if she would believe me, so I settle for telling her that I just don’t really enjoy parties like this. She agrees and there’s a bit of relief that she takes my answer as it is.

Wes and Lennon have wandered away from us and it’s just her and I outside now, leaning against some tables they have set up like usual. I watch various people spill out of the side doors, drinks sloshing out of their cups, and bodies starting to wobble. I must have a concerning expression on my face because Harlow places her hand on my arm, asking if I’m okay again.

When I turn to face her, I drink in her appearance all over again. Her emerald eyes are framed by the makeup Lennon did, her hair looks almost wet but still cascades over her shoulders in waves, and the whistle around her neck makes me chuckle.

“Yeah baby, I’m okay. I’m more than okay.” I bend forward and press a kiss to the side of her head.

She gives me a soft but unsure smile, then moves her hand down to interlock with mine. “Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

“Hm?” I respond, not really paying attention because anytime Harlow touches me it causes my brain to lag.

“If you weren’t okay, would you tell me?” she repeats.

I think about her question, maybe for too long because she squeezes my hand and raises her eyebrows as if to show that she’s waiting for my response.

“Yeah, I think so, but I also have like this default setting to protect you or something. I don’t know how to explain it, so I wouldn’t ever want to worry you.”

She pinches her eyebrows together and draws her lip in between her teeth. I reach out, plucking it free with my thumb. “You know you always do that when you’re overthinking something?”

“I do not,” she retorts, pulling her hand from mine to cross her arms in front of her.

“You do.” A laugh erupts from my chest. “It’s cute, I like it.”

“Well, if I’m overthinking this it’s your fault, because I can tell something’s wrong and you won’t tell me. Isn’t that a part of dating? Communication?”

Her words catch me off guard and I’m sure I look like I’ve forgotten how to speak. Did she just say dating?

“Yeah, it is,” I reply feeling stunned. “Are we dating?”

A flustered expression washes over her face. “I don’t know, are we?”

A laugh sneaks out of me again only because getting to spend time alone with her has me realizing how much I really enjoy her personality. She’s witty, sarcastic, thoughtful, and sweet when she wants to be. The last few weeks have been so intense, I don’t think I realized that I haven’t been able to really see Harlow be Harlow. Yeah, there were moments when those characteristics peaked through her cloud of stubbornness, but I wasn’t entirely sure I’d get to witness her becoming herself.

While I did my best to step up and be persistent with her, I had my moments of doubt. What if she hadn’t left Beckett? What if she really never gave a shit about me? What if she got better and went back to her team and we never saw each other again?

I’d hoped that there would be a breakthrough, and there has been, but every time I get these glimpses of Harlow’s true self, it truly takes me aback. She’s even better than I thought.

“Yeah, I’d like to date you. Pretty sure I made that clear in front of your parents at the swim meet, but I’m also really enjoying getting to know you. Besides, I know I’ve said it like a hundred times and you’re probably over it, but I don’t want to rush you.”

I say that as if I know what I’m doing. Surprise, I don’t . My whole game plan with her has been to let her set the pace and step in when I felt like I was needed, but now that Beckett is out of the picture, I’m trying to figure out how I fit into her life.

“It means a lot to me that you think about all these things. I’m not sure what guy would kinda just,” she pauses and lets out a puff of air, “take everything that’s happened and be as easy going, but I feel like maybe there’s still some things you don’t understand that could help you know how to go about this .” She uses a finger to point back and forth between us.

I nod my head, knowing she’s right. The way I’ve been treating her has been based mostly on my own assumptions and I don’t know if that’s good or bad, maybe both.

“Well, seeing as we both don’t appear to be in the party mood, would you want to just talk for a little? Until Wes and Lennon appear again?”

She chuckles. “We may be here all night then.”

“That’s fine with me, as long as I’m with you.”