Page 82 of Heart Check
Then Dawson lifts his hand, and my eyes follow it like every movement is traced in slow motion. He’s not just wearing a stack of my bracelets. He’s wearing myfavoritebracelets. Even from here I can see the one decorated with birdcages that made me smirk—hey, if I’m going to go all team spirit, I’m going to give it my own flair—and the one I made just for him. The one reminding him to trust his team.
Then he looks our way. And he smiles.
It’s like a cheesy scene from a ’90s movie, the way the crowd parts for him as he moves our way. He never breaks eye contact. Sweat beads at my hairline despite the artificial chill in the air, and the echoing conversations around me are suddenly so loud, bouncing off the high ceilings and linoleum. My heart is about to jump out of my chest.
When he gets closer, his words start cutting through the noise in that rumbling baritone.
“Really promising small business— applying for a YoungEntrepreneurs Grant— has been advocating for more robust business curriculum here at Hamilton Lakes— can you write that down?”
My face glows. He’s been paying attention. And he’s using this moment to boost me up.
He stops in front of our table, nodding at Marissa while I do my best to keep my jaw from scraping the floor.
“And Marissa’s one of our most talented reporters on the student newspaper. She’s running for editor-in-chief next year, and I think she could take it to the next level.”
Marissa gapes at him, and I can tell she’s seeing the Dawson I know for the first time. The thoughtful, kind one who wants everyone else to succeed just as much as him.
I dig my elbow into her ribs and she jolts back to herself, extending a hand to the reporter. She freezes halfway, and her hand darts back to her sweater, smoothing the puffballs, before it shoots back out. “I—hello, I—I write. Sometimes. Or try.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Sophie holds out her hand to shake. I have to clear my throat to remind Marissa to let go. “I’d love to talk to you more about your business, Harper? Could make a great human-interest piece about how it’s been going, running a business as a teenager. How the school’s supported you—or not—and how you’ve been making ends meet. What you’d envision for your ideal program. You know.” She waves her hand airily as if she’s not just described my absolute dream come true. Exposure for the business, a great item for my grant and college applications, and maybe even some leverage to really change things here at Hamilton Lakes.
I grin. “Yeah, I’d love to. Name your time.”
She nods, typing a note on her phone. “Amazing. I’ll be in touch through your—do you have a website?”
“She does,” Dawson and Marissa say simultaneously. They lock eyes with each other for a long, weird moment. As if wondering if they’re still enemies. Dawson’s the first one to smile, which almost makes Marissa short-circuit again.
I can’t help smiling.I told you he was nice,I want to say. Hell, I want tosingit.
Sophie turns to Marissa before I can break into full Broadway. “If you’re interested in a career in journalism, I’m your girl. It’s a tough field these days, but you can still make it work if you’re flexible. Happy to give you some tips.”
Marissa takes her outstretched card. “I’d love to start with taking down Logan for editor-in-chief, if you have any ideas.”
Sophie grins. “Oh, honey. I ran the most bloodthirsty campaign Hamilton Lakes had ever seen when it was my turn. I’d love for you to beat my record.”
She waves jauntily as she heads out the doors.
As soon as she’s out of sight, Marissa and I turn to each other, stunned. Then she grabs my shoulders and jumps up and down, squealing.
“Your business—”
“Your hero!”
Dawson waits, off to the side, with his hands clasped patiently in front of him. When I turn back to him, he’s smirking that tiny little sideways smirk that hints at his dimples, and it makes me want to hurl myself into his arms.
The air thickens immediately with tension as our eyes meet. His hair is damp from sweat, his cheeks flushed from exertion.
Everyone’s watching us, a little circle clearing around the table. Marissa elbows me hard in the soft spot between my ribs, widening her eyes meaningfully, before stepping away to give us some privacy. I shoot her a smile that’s half-grateful, half-nervous; she mouths,Go get your hockey player.
I turn back to Dawson, pulse racing, heart in my throat.
“Thank you for the introduction,” I manage. My voice sounds strange even to my own ears.
“Least I could do. You deserve all that recognition and more. Always have.” He takes a half step forward, a furrow appearing between his brows. His composure disappears, his words tumbling out fast and frantic. “Harper, I don’t know what Noah said to you, but it wasn’t true.”
My heart stops. So that fightwasabout me. Stunned, mouth hanging open, I say, “How do you know?”
His eyes never leave mine. “Because anything that would make you keep your distance is so far from what I want.” He takes another step forward, and my heart hammers louder than ever. “Listen, Harper. I’m sorry about everything. You were right.” His voice is solemn, sincere. “I really was a little stuck-up.”
