Page 83 of Almost Ours
“You know I’m right.”
I stoodin front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of my shirt for what felt like the tenth time. This was my first Hockey Christmas party, and according to Shane, it was a night to remember–or survive, depending on who you asked.
The past two weeks had been a blur of almosts and not-quites.
Harper and I had mastered the art of toeing the line–sharing late-night conversations that lingered too long, exchanging glances that said more than we ever dared to speak aloud. There were moments I thought she might kiss me. Moments where I nearly closed the distance myself. But each time, one of us pulled back. Hesitated.
Too much unspoken. Too much at risk.
Still, those near misses had me spinning. I could barely sleep without replaying them–her laugh echoing in my chest, the way her hand would linger near mine, the way she’d look at me like maybe she wanted more too.
And now I was stuck somewhere in between desperate to touch her, and terrified I’d ruin everything if I did.
If she gave me a sign tonight, though?
I wasn’t sure I’d be strong enough to stop myself.
I tugged on my jacket, smoothing out the fabric in front of the mirror when my phone buzzed on the dresser. It was a text from Harper.
Harper: What are you wearing?
A grin spread across my face as I grabbed my phone. There wasn’t a single casual interpretation of that text.
I flipped the camera to selfie mode, adjusting my expression until it landed somewhere between effortless and charming. Snapping the photo, I sent it with a quick caption:
Ryan: This. What do you think?
The three little dots appeared immediately.
Harper:
I chuckled under my breath, the tension in my chest loosening just a bit.
Ryan: Your turn. What are you wearing?
Harper: You’ll have to wait and see.
I stared at her reply for a moment, imagining all the possibilities. Knowing Harper, she could make a hoodie and leggings look like a runway outfit. But for tonight? My pulse quickened at the thought.
I had offered to pick her and Nina up, but she declined, saying something about not wanting to give the hockey moms any extra gossip fodder. Fair point. That crew could rival TMZ when it came to spreading rumours.
By the time I was in the truck, headed to Shane’s, my head was still spinning with thoughts of Harper. It wasn’t just the anticipation of seeing her tonight–it was everything. The way she made me laugh, the way she looked at me like she could see right through the walls I didn’t even know I had.
I pulled up to Shane’s place and honked once. He appeared a minute later, swaggering out with a grin that suggested he was already in party mode.
“Ready to let loose, Barzal?” he asked, hopping into the passenger seat.
I snorted. “Do I have a choice? You’ve been hyping this up for weeks. If it’s anything less than legendary, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“Oh, trust me, it’s legendary,” he said, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. “You’ve got booze, music, and a bunch of hockey parents desperate for a break from their kids. What could possibly go wrong?”
Shane started scrolling through my radio presets, landing on a station blasting Christmas classics remixed with a bass-heavy beat.
“And,” he added, leaning back smugly, “if that wasn’t enough incentive, I heard Harper’s gonna be there.”
My hand tightened on the steering wheel, but I kept my tone neutral. “What’s your point?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Shane said, shooting me a knowing look. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.”
