Page 44 of Heart Check
I take a last sip of my now-cold hot chocolate. Then I crumple the cup and toss it in the trash.
16.DAWSON
Thank God the next fewdays are busy as hell. Between morning practice and the countdown to finals before winter break, every hour is accounted for.
Somehow, it doesn’t help me keep my mind off the girl who has taken up permanent residence there.
As I weave through the crowded hallways of Hamilton Lakes High, I can’t stop craning my neck for a glance at Harper. But whenever I glimpse her hair cascading over her shoulders, or that jaunty, purposeful walk of hers, she’s gone before I can speak to her. Almost as if she’s avoiding me.
I could’ve sworn she was about to say yes to Skate Night before her friend showed up and got all defensive, and then Harper shut down. What was that about? Is she not into me as much as I’m into her?
“Dawson!” Alex grabs me by the elbow and pulls me out of the way of an opening door. “Listen, our season’s already in jeopardy without putting you in the hospital.”
I grimace. “Sorry. Distracted.”
Ryan nudges me in the ribs from the other side, waggling his eyebrows. “Distracted by anything fun?”
I rake a hand through my hair as we turn a corner, thinking it over. Alex and Ryan were cool when I brought Harper to the party. They even bought her merch at the small business fair. They’re goldfish—bad at holding on to grudges even if they tried. If I like Harper, they like Harper.
I’ve never been so grateful for it. Because I really need to talk this through with someone. “You know Harper?”
Alex raises his eyes heavenward. “Yes, Dawson. We know Harper.”
“Hell yeah we do!” Ryan cheers. “Though I gotta say, the Harper you brought to my party is a different one than we’ve known for the last three years. I still need to find her for a foosball rematch.”
“Yeah,” I say, barely hearing them. “So at the small business fair? I was kind of… having a moment with her? Before you guys showed up.”
Ryan claps a hand over his mouth. “Oh, shit! Sorry, man!”
Alex mutters something that sounds like, “Lord save me from oblivious hockey players.”
I decide to ignore it. “I mean, it wasn’t you who ruined the moment. It got weird when her friend showed up, to be honest.”
Ryan nods knowingly. “Marissa. She reminds me of a librarian. But, like, a glittery one. Lisa Frank core.”
I shoot him a weird look. Distracted by shiny objects again. “Yeah. Anyway. She was defensive about Harper’s business—which, c’mon, I’m doing my best to fix, I’m not the enemy here—and then Harper got all weird. Like she didn’t want to talk around her?” Even as I say it, though, my stomach twists with guilt. I am alittleto blame for Harper’s business troublesthis year. I didn’t call off Noah’s witch hunt soon enough, and I accidentally gave him some ammunition for it.
Alex frowns. “Harper might have discovered forgiveness and joined Team Dawson, but Marissa might still be captain of the opposing team, you know?”
“You don’t need that energy, man.” Ryan waves a hand at the hallway, collecting all the smiles and hellos and lingering glances as we pass. “There areliterallya hundred girls who’d amputate their left leg to go out with you. We want you to hang out with whoever you want, right? But if she’s making you suffer, at some point you have to cut your losses and move on.”
Alex’s frown deepens. He’s starting to resemble a basset hound with all those sagging, sad wrinkles. “Not if helovesher.”
I blanch. “Who said anything about love?”
They’re not listening to me. “Dawson deserves to be appreciated for exactly who he is!” Ryan insists.
“Iknow that,” Alex says. “But doeshe?”
I feel like I’m watching a tennis match, except I understand tennis better than whatever’s going on here. But before I can tell them it’s not that deep, we’re mobbed by the rest of the team, and the conversation turns to the Northview game coming up, and I can’t get a word in edgewise.
So my mind drifts off. If I knew what was good for me, I’d listen to Ryan and move on. I know when a girl’s interested, and let’s be honest, I’ve never had trouble landing a date before. Why would I torture myself with someone who’s giving me mixed messages?
I’m not used to my ego being threatened, but this girl’s making it feel a lot more fragile than ever before.
The problem is, I can’t stop thinking about the flush in her cheeks, the little sound she made when she took a sip of that hot chocolate, the pride in her voice as she showed me everything she was selling, that ridiculously long scarf she was wearing at the craft fair. I wanted to grab her by it and reel her in, bring those soft-looking lips and big green eyes inches from mine.
I don’t want to hang out with just anyone. I want to hang out withHarper.
