Page 30 of In the Net
I allow myself a heavy sigh before I pump my legs, getting back to my run. I have my workout and preparation for my presentation tomorrow to focus on. I need to stop dwelling on the past.
And I really need to stop dwelling on that skirt Harper wore.
13
SEBASTIAN
Where the hell has Harper been?
On one hand, I should be glad that it’s been a day and a half since I last saw her. On the other hand, I’m almost starting to get worried.
We haven’t been able to avoid our paths crossing multiple times a day since we got here. As much as I kept telling myself I wished they’d stop crossing, now that they have for almost thirty-six hours, it’s feeling kind of creepy.
Plus, we’re staying across the hall from each other, and our walls are paper-thin. I can usually hear her come and go from her room, but I haven’t noticed any noise from that direction in the same period of time.
The conference ended yesterday. My presentation went pretty well. Not as well as Harper’s. Maybe not something I’d admit if it weren’t so obviously true. I made a decent showing and didn’t embarrass myself, whereas she wowed professors with decades of tenure from around the world.
It’s fine. She wants to be an academic, and I don’t. Get her on a hockey rink and see how impressivesheis there.
I have my ticket to the Louvre booked today. I’ve been looking forward to it all week. But as I step out of my hotel room, ready to head to the greatest museum in the world, my eyes fall onto Harper’s closed door.
It is weird that I haven’t seen or even heard a peep from her for this long.
Ugh. I should check on her.
Closing my door, I step across the hall and knock firmly on hers. “Harper?” I call. “You in there?”
No answer after a couple seconds. I turn down the hall, ready to head out to the museum having at least done the bare minimum to check on my classmate while we’re both overseas. But something keeps me from taking that first step away.
I knock on her door again, louder this time. And my voice is also louder as I put my mouth to the door and yell, “Hello? Anyone in there? Harper?”
I press my ear to where the door meets the doorjamb, searching for any sound from within.
My brow scrunches. The faintest sound filters to me, like a low and weary groan.
My stomach clenches, worry clawing up my back. Was that sound just a creak from this centuries-old building? A rumbling from a pipe somewhere in the wall?
I press my tongue against my inner cheek, feeling indecisive. I don’t want to miss my entry time to the Louvre. I’ve heard they can be strict about it, and if I have to wait in line to buy a new ticket at the ticket counter, I’ll probably waste hours.
But …
“Shit,” I breathe to myself, knowing I won’t be able to enjoy the museum with these worries weighing me down. Especially after hearing that weird sound from her room. What if she tripped on a wet floor coming out of the shower and hit her head? She’s clumsy. I wouldn’t put it past her.
Even without seeing her for a day and a half, Harper Brees finds a way to annoy and inconvenience me on this trip. Of course.
I go to the lobby, intending to explain to the person at the desk that I’m worried about my classmate who I’m traveling with, and to ask if they can use the master key to help me check on her. But there’s no one at the desk.
I feel each second that ticks by as I’m at risk of missing my timed entry. With an impatient eye roll, I plop down onto a couch in the lobby and wait for the hotel employee working the desk to show up.
I wait …
And wait …
Fuck, did the staff here decide to go on strike today or something? I mean, this is France, after all.
Maybe they know they don’t have anyone new checking in today so they’re off doing something else. I approach the desk to see if there’s one of those bells to ring, but of course, there isn’t.
I glance at the time on my phone. Fuck. If I hang around for ten more minutes, I’ll miss the window of time I have to enter the museum.
