Page 16 of His to Teach
She makes a face. “I’m sure that's exactly what you want to do the morning after your sexual awakening.”
I groan. “Tell me about it.”
“You want me to come with you?” Emma knows better than anyone how hard it is for me, sometimes, to spend time with my brother. Under most circumstances, I would have taken her up on the offer, but she’s still sick, and I can’t ask her to leave the house in her condition just because I’m a baby.
“No, that's okay. Stay here and get some rest. You still look like shit.”
She doesn’t argue with me. “I feel like shit, honestly. I slept most of the day yesterday and I’m still beat.”
I squeeze her shoulder as I pass on my way to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. “I’ll bring back some of those lemon-mascarpone pancakes you like,” I tell her.
“And this is why I love you.”
Just as I move my hand from her shoulder, Emma reaches out and clutches my wrist. “Hey.” She looks up at me, her voice gentler than it’s been all morning. “I’m proud of you, Harper.”
I make a scoffing noise. “Proud that I finally got my freak on?”
I expect her to laugh, but instead she remains straight-faced, her expression serious and intense. “No, really. You went outside of your comfort zone and I know what a big deal that is for you.”
I feel a strange lump in my throat. The thing is, Idohave a hard time going outside of my comfort zone. And my inabilityand unwillingness to take chances has led to a lot of missed opportunities in my life. Plenty of disappointments. I can’t help but hope that my out-of-character behavior last night might lead to some more bravery elsewhere in my life.
“Thanks,” I tell her, squeezing her hand.
As I wash my hair in the shower, I think about how much I had left out in my description of the night to my best friend. Emma didn’t specifically ask me if I met anyone, so it’s not like I lied to her by leaving Nate out. But it was definitely an omission, a huge one.
I wonder what she would think if I did tell her. She’d be shocked, I’m sure. Obviously me just walking through the door had seemed like a big deal to her. Hooking up with a stranger at a sex club was about the farthest thing from normal Harper Cain behavior she could imagine.
Hell, hooking up with a stranger in any kind of club—even your run-of-the-mill variety—is so out of the realm of my normal experiences she would probably have a heart attack to hear about it.
I shake my head under the spray, trying to clear it. I can’t sit here mooning over my secret dalliance all morning. If there’s one thing my brother Mason hates, it’s tardiness. And I know I’ll be on edge enough this afternoon—the last thing I want to do is give him cause to be irritated right off the bat.
I wrap a towel around myself and head to my room, groaning when I see the time on my alarm clock. There’s no way I’ll have time to properly straighten my hair or apply makeup. My hair will have to go back in a ponytail. Under normal circumstances, say, if I was heading into school, this wouldn’t be a big deal. I find myself running late more often than not and a ponytail has become like a uniform for me.
But I’m aware that it makes me look younger, so I always try to put in a little effort at sophistication when I’m going to beseeing my brother. By now I know that it’s pointless to expect him to ever treat me like an adult, but I figure styled hair and proper makeup is the least I can do.
But there’s no time for that today. I pull my still wet hair up into a knot on top of my head, grab a simple blue wrap dress from my closet, and manage to apply some mascara and lip-gloss before I absolutely have to be out the door. “You need anything while I’m out?” I call to Emma as I pull my heels on in the foyer.
“Just those pancakes,” she calls from her sick bed on the couch. “And maybe a couple trashy magazines if you feel like stopping.”
Since she can’t see me, I don’t bother to stop myself from rolling my eyes at the martyred tone. Sick for barely three days, Emma is already bored out of her mind. Though I don’t envy her the pneumonia, I wouldn’t actually mind the excuse to lay around reading for a while. My best friend, on the other hand, is sure to go out of her mind after a few more days of quiet. Unlike me, Emma needs excitement in her life.
“Got it,” I call back. “Text me if you need anything else.”
“Good luck!” she shouts just before the door closes behind me.
My brother and I always meet at the same restaurant.Croque Monsieuris a trendy little French eatery in Charlotte’s SouthPark neighborhood, close to Mason’s office. I find the atmosphere more than a little bit pretentious, but the food is amazing—definitely the best part of these twice monthly meetings Mason insists on.
I’m relieved when I manage to squeeze through the front door right at twelve. There’s a line at the hostess stand—there always is—but Mason will have made a reservation. Sure enough, I see him sitting right in the middle of the restaurant at his usual table.
I would prefer something a little more private, maybe near a window with a view of the bustling street outside. But Mason never passes up the opportunity to see and be seen. The man probably networks in his sleep.
When he sees me, his face lights up, and I immediately feel bad for all the negative thoughts I’ve had about him this morning.
It’s not that I don’t love my brother. Honestly, I love him more than any other person on this earth. Mason is hardworking, dependable, and about as loyal as is possible for a human to be. He also has a good sense of humor—when he can manage to let his guard down for a minute and stop thinking about work.
And, most importantly, he’s always been there for me. When our parents died and my entire world seemed sure to crumble, Mason is the one who picked up the pieces. He was little more than a kid himself, just out of college, but my older brother didn’t hesitate to take me in. To take care of me. If I couldn’t have my parents, Mason was the next best thing. And he never once faltered in the role of caretaker.
It’s just that, sometimes, I miss having him as abrother.
