Page 44 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
Liam offers no explanation, just grabs another beer from the cooler and joins a circle of guys telling increasingly exaggerated stories about their high school glory days. I let it slide—Liam’s personal life is his business, and I’ve got my own things to think about.
Sirus slips away, and I see Maddie walk through the front door. My chest tightens, waiting to see Harper walk in after her. Maddie glances around and catches my eye. She offers a small frown and shakes her head. Sirus greets her and my attention’s back to the guys.
I take a slow sip of my beer, letting the noise of the party fade into background hum as my thoughts drift to Harper. Sirus’s right about one thing—I should definitely ask her out again. Soon. The memory of her laugh, the way she felt when she kissed me, the easy conversation that flowed between us... it’s all been playing on repeat in my head for the past two days.
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over her contact for a moment before deciding to wait until tomorrow. Tonight feels too casual, too much like an afterthought. When I text Harper, I want it to be deliberate, thoughtful. The kind of message that shows I’ve been thinking about her, not just something I fired off because I’m bored at a party.
But tomorrow? Tomorrow I’m definitely going to ask her when I can see her again.
20
Avoiding Complications
Harper
Iwakeuplateto sunlight streaming through my blinds and the unusual sound of silence from the rest of the dorm. Maddie must still be asleep, which means she either had an amazing time at the party last night or a terrible one. With Maddie, there’s rarely any middle ground.
I stretch in bed, that lazy, full-body stretch that comes with waking up naturally instead of to an alarm, when the memory of Cole’s kiss flashes through my mind unexpectedly. The way he leaned across the coffee table, careful but certain, the weight of his gaze before his lips met mine. The little catch in my chest that followed me home and apparently decided to set up permanent residence.
I shake my head against the pillow, annoyed with myself for being this distracted over one date. It was a good date, sure, but it was still just one date. I’m not the type to get starry-eyed over a guy I barely know.
Except apparently I am, because here I am replaying every detail like some lovesick teenager.
An hour later, Maddie bursts into my room carrying a chocolate chip muffin and wearing the kind of grin that means she’s about to regale me with every detail of her evening, whether I want to hear them or not.
“Morning, sunshine,” she says, settling cross-legged on my bed like she’s planning to stay a while. “You missed quite the party.”
“Did I?” I keep my voice carefully neutral, accepting the muffin she offers. “How was Sirus?”
“Sweet. Attentive. Possibly the most gentlemanly drunk person I’ve ever met.” She pauses, studying my face with that expression that means she’s about to say something I won’t like. “Cole was there, by the way. He asked about you.”
My pulse does a little skip that I try to ignore. “What did he say?”
“Just wondered if you were coming. Sirus mentioned that I was supposed to drag you along.” She grins. “I told him you were probably at home being antisocial and that he should text you.”
“Maddie—”
“What? He likes you. You like him. It’s simple math.”
Before I can argue with her logic, she drops her voice conspiratorially. “Although, fair warning—apparently Liam was there with some girl. Sirus said they disappeared for a while and she left looking... satisfied.”
My stomach does this weird little flip that I absolutely refuse to analyze. “Good for him,” I say, proud of how steady my voice sounds. “He can do whatever he wants.”
And in that moment, I make a decision. Whatever was happening between me and Liam—the late-night texts, the hookups, the way he makes my pulse race—it’s done. Maddie’s right. He’s a player, and I’m not interested in being just another conquest in his rotation.
The thought should make me feel relieved. Instead, it sits heavy in my chest like disappointment I’m not allowed to acknowledge.
“Exactly,” Maddie says, apparently taking my response as confirmation that I’m finally seeing clearly. “Forget about Liam. Focus on the guy who actually wants to get to know you instead of just get in your pants.”
After she leaves to nurse her hangover with coffee and whatever’s leftover in our fridge, I stare at the back of her head, wondering if she knows I’ve been hooking up with him withouttelling her. I inhale, trying to contain my irritation about the Liam news and pad to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee.
I lean against the counter, cradling my mug, and try to not be upset over Liam. I have no say over what he does, who he sees. Heck, I’ve even made it very clear that we’re nothing beyond a late-night booty call. I stare at the ground, wondering what I was thinking would happen with a guy like Liam. It’s not like I’m any better. My mood lightens when I think of Cole. I catch myself replaying Wednesday night again. Cole leaning across the table during dinner, the way he really listened when I talked, the calm certainty in his voice when he said he’d been wanting to kiss me since we sat down. It was different from anything I’m used to—steady instead of fiery, thoughtful instead of impulsive.
I shake my head, annoyed that I’m this distracted over boys. It’s not like me to get caught up in analyzing every interaction, every glance, every moment of contact.
My phone buzzes against the counter, and I glance down to see Liam’s name on the screen.
Liam:You were missing last night.
