Page 38 of Stay this Christmas
“I can see that for you.” She’d always had a protective streak to her, and she’d never shied away from a good jab at me when I needed it. “I’m in.”
“Great. Do you want to do your thing after?”
My enthusiasm faded a touch.My thing. Which meant whatever demonstration of Christmas cheer she had planned. Hopefully, nothing involving her so-called Santa. “We don’t have to do it after.”
Her mouth tugged to the side, unimpressed. “We’re doing your thing after. At my place.”
Well. If you insist.
“I have a session in a few minutes, but we should exchange numbers. I can text you the details on the class.”
She retreated to her desk and rummaged around in her purse before returning with her phone. We relayed our info, and I tried not to get excited about entering Harper’s phone number in my contacts like a teen boy with a crush. Tried—failed.
“Do you want me to pick you up? It might be easier than both of us driving.”
Sure, yes, that made sense. I’d offered for the ease of it. Or, another, more likely scenario, I’d offered because I wanted to maximize my time with her, and she probably knew it.
No, she definitely knew it. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, looking past me. When her eyes returned to mine, that hesitance peeked out again, like maybe she was rethinking this whole arrangement.
“We can meet there.”
“No problem.” As though a dealbreaker existed when it came to her. “Text me the info, and I’ll meet you there.”
Rather than hang around and risk saying something stupid, I went into the exercise room to prepare for my class. Shifting the chairs around to make enough space in the center, I reminded myself not to get too amped up over tomorrow night. Not a date. She’d asked for friendship, and friendship only. So friendship is what I would give her.
But the minute I thought I had half a chance at more with Harper Webb, you better believe I’d take my shot.
A couple of early-bird residents wandered into the exercise room, giving themselves plenty of time to get ready for class. Fifteen minutes early seemed about average here, and Bonnie and Vivian didn’t let me down.
A few steps into the room, Vivian made a strangled sound. “Good gracious, what is that?”
I followed where she looked and had to take a step back, too. The creepy plastic Santa had been turned around to peek in the exercise room window, his staring eyes and wide grin looking more like one of Chucky’s relatives than Kris Kringle’s.
Shaking my head, I stifled a laugh. Maybe this Christmas thing would be fun, after all.
* * *
Tuesday night, I stood in Rumble Room’s lobby area waiting for Harper to show. As much as I wanted to support her in her list of adventures, I wasn’t convinced this was it. Most of the people milling around were dudes, and even if some of them looked like they’d just clocked out at their desk job, it still amounted to a lot of testosterone. Knowing Harper, she might turn right around and choose something else.
Ignoring the guy across from me flexing his biceps in the mirror, I frowned to myself. Ididn’tknow Harper anymore. Not really. I knew who she’d been years ago, but I had plenty to learn about present-day Harper. She might not be fazed by a room full of sweaty guys.
Doubtful, but in the realm of possibility.
Still, I would take every opportunity this list exchange gave me to get to know her again, Christmas and all.
When she walked through the doors, windswept and pink-cheeked, all eyes turned to her. I’d kept my composure the week before because I liked my job at Lotus Flower and didn’t want to lose it for staring at a patron. But here? Off the clock, I would stare until I burned her into my retinas.
Harper’s workout gear wasn’t provocative, yet everything about it did something for me. From her racerback tank to her green leggings all the way down to her sneakers, the woman made my day.
Her gaze clouded as she took in the room. She paused halfway through the door, and if I had to guess, she was trying to decide whether or not she could leave without being noticed. She had no ideaeveryonehad noticed her.
Some things hadn’t changed, then.
In high school, she’d been oblivious to just how many guys had crushed on her, including me. We’d been best friends, but I don’t think she’d realized just how wound up over her I’d been, or for how long. It took me months to work up the nerve to ask her out, worried I’d ruin our friendship if she said no, and equally scared I’d regret it forever if I didn’t try.
Adrenaline shot through me now as if I were about to ask the same question all over again.
“What do you think about dating me?”
