Page 89 of A Brush with Love
A cold sweat pricked at her skin, and Harper pulled at the neck of her scrub top as she followed Dr. Ren to her office, trying to anticipate what her reprimand would be.
“Please shut the door.”
Harper did as she was told and turned slowly to face her mentor. Dr. Ren gave Harper an appraising glance, her eyes softening at what must have been unfettered fear on Harper’s face.
“Harper, take a deep breath. You look like you’re meeting your executioner.”
Harper let out a nervous laugh and her fingers plucked restlessly at her scrub pants. “That’s kind of what it feels like.”
“Not today. Please take a seat.” Harper collapsed into the chair opposite Dr. Ren’s desk and waited.
“I know the last semester of school makes it incredibly hard to focus.” Harper opened her mouth to protest, but Dr. Ren held up a hand to silence her. “If anyone deserves a little slack, it’s you. All I ask is that you keep focused during procedures. Vigilance is key. You know that.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Ren, it won’t happen again. I’m ashamed of myself.”
Dr. Ren let out a quiet laugh. “There’s no need to be dramatic. It happens.”
Harper’s pulse hammered in her palms.
It doesn’t happen to you. It’s never supposed to happen to you.How could you drop your focus?Cruel words continued to hum through her mind, making her want to run.
“Harper?”
“Sorry, what?” She realized she’d missed something in the conversation.
Dr. Ren’s eyes bore into Harper, making her fidget. “I mean it. Let it go.”
Harper nodded, wishing it were that simple. She knew what was coming. The shame and anxiety would build and build and build until it felt like it would swallow her whole. It would ricochet around in her body until she felt empty. Useless. Spent.
“Thank you, Dr. Ren.”
Dr. Ren smiled and excused Harper with a wave of her hand. Harper left the office and made her way out of the building, trying to shake off the feelings clawing at her stomach.
Dan was waiting for her at the street corner, ready to walk her home. He beamed at her, but the anxiety must still have lined her face because his expression quickly turned into a frown.
“What’s wrong?” He pulled her in for a tight hug, one hand cradling the back of her head while she burrowed her face into his chest, breathing him in.
He was like a charging port she could plug into. The fist in her chest eased a bit, calmness permeating from him into her. She let out a sigh and pulled away.
“Nothing, just a long day.” Despite her moment of honesty in those early morning hours, she still felt anything but comfortable describing just how much her anxiety ate her up. It felt too real, too abnormal to say in the light of day.
Dan laced his fingers through hers and placed their hands in his coat pocket, shielding their skin from the cold.
They started walking, and he pressed their joined hands closer to his body and rubbed teasing circles against her palm with his thumb. They kept up a steady stream of chitchat—herday, his, another week of shitty weather—and the rumble of his voice smoothed over her frazzled nerves, the worries evaporating from her skin. Harper still didn’t know the language of her feelings, but she was learning not to fight them.
He kissed her at every intersection, each one hungrier than the last. When they finally got inside her apartment, they were a blur of clumsy fingers and rough hands, stripping and clawing at layers until they could finally press skin to skin.
Harper had never been particularly needy for sex, never craved it like her friends seemed to, but Dan’s touch unearthed some hidden sex drive that couldn’t be satiated—an overwhelming and consuming want to be as close to Dan as possible. When her heart pressed against his, it was like she could let go of the years of pain so deeply coiled in every single muscle with a sigh of relief.
They collapsed into a giggling tangle of limbs in her entryway, scaring Judy in the process.
After fumbling with a condom, Harper straddled him, sinking into the connection that was starting to feel as necessary as breathing. She moved over him, watching his face. His lips were parted and brows furrowed in concentration. She watched a swallow travel down the column of his neck and felt his large hands gripping her hips.
“Can I be honest with you?” she asked, planting her hands on his chest for support.
“Hmm?” Dan’s eyes were locked on her breasts and Harper couldn’t help but giggle. She lowered her mouth to his ear and nipped at it.
“This is really hurting my knees,” she whispered as seductively as possible. Dan’s eyes traveled down her body to where her knees were digging into the hardwood floor. After a beat, he threw back his head and laughed. Harper wanted to capture the sound of it in a painting—see its deep reds and rich blues decorate her walls.
