Chapter 22: Famous Last Words: Chapter 22

“Fun party, huh?” I say as I start driving.

Harlow huffs a laugh. “The end of it kinda sucked.”

“I wish you’d let me hit him.”

“Would have only made things worse.”

She doesn’t defend Landon, I notice.

It should make me happy, but I feel guilty instead. I’ve been mostly absorbed by how my feelings toward the Garrison affect us. Not giving enough consideration of how it might affect Harlow’s relationship with them.

“I’m sorry, for just showing up on Wednesday night. I should have talked to you before, at least. Discussed it before dropping that bomb and leaving you to deal with it.”

“I’m relieved, actually,” she tells me. “I’ve felt guilty, keeping it from them. Lying to them. And I knew Landon would take it…about how he’s taking it. So I’m not sure how, or when, I would have said something myself.”

“How did…Hugh react?”

I feel Harlow’s eyes on me. Mine stay fixed on the road.

“He was surprised. And…excited, I guess.”

“Excited?”

“He’s never had anyone to ask about you. Doesn’t know that you love Mexican food or that you snore sometimes. And…” Her voice trails, like she’s treading lightly. “I got the sense he really wants to know those things about you.”

I’m silent, absorbing that. It lines up with everything my mom said yesterday morning.

“I don’t snore, Hayes.”

She laughs, sounding relieved. “I’ll record you one night.”

I like the way that sounds too much, the easy implication that there will be more nights we’ll spend together.

“You in any rush to get home?” I ask.

She scoffs. “No.”

More guilt. But also excitement, because I want to spend more time with her.

“Okay.”

I keep driving. After about fifteen minutes, she glances over at me.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

When I park outside our destination, Harlow glances at me with raised eyebrows. “A bar?”

“You’ll like this place,” I promise her.

“You’ve been here before?” she asks as we near the front door.

I hand the bouncer my ID, and she does the same before we get let inside.

“In high school,” I tell her, once we’re past the door and handing off our jackets at the coat check.

She shakes her head. “Of course you did.”

“Don’t act like you never rebelled, Hayes. I saw you play beer pong.”

We keep walking, skirting around the small groups standing and talking. I grab Harlow’s hand automatically, tugging her into my body protectively and guiding her toward the metal bar top that runs the full length of one side of the space.

“Do you want a drink?” I ask her.

She smiles. “Yeah.”

We find an open spot near the end. Harlow orders a Moscow Mule, then leans back against the bar to survey the crowd. She spots the stage toward the back, where a guy with a full beard is plugging in wires and setting up microphones.

“They have live music here?”

“Uh-huh. And I know you like supporting local musicians.”

Harlow narrows her eyes as she takes her drink from the bartender. “Subtle, Hart.”

There’s more I could say about the Garrisons. They’re this huge cloud we can’t escape the shadow of. That has become harder and harder to ignore, correlating with my feelings for Harlow becoming stronger and stronger. But for tonight, I want to revert to pretending they don’t exist.

“Come on.” I grab her hand again and pull her away from the bar, toward the small crowd that’s gathered to watch two girls and a guy climb onto the stage that’s been set up.

We blend in with the group that’s mostly other college students and a few young professionals. This bar is located a town over from Claremont, even closer to Brighton University.

When I came here in high school, I never paid much attention to the musicians. So I’m not sure what to expect, and maybe that’s why I’m pleasantly surprised by the acoustic sound drifting out of the speakers. But I’m pretty sure it has more to do with the redhead by my side.

The lead singer has a raspy, worn voice that fits well with the darkened, no-frills atmosphere of the bar. But I have no idea what she’s wearing. No clue what she looks like.

My attention is all on Harlow. It’s like I have a new, sixth sense that’s only attuned to her. I kept scanning the room for her earlier. Kept checking to make sure she was still behind me.

I wasn’t sure how much to touch her at the party. What amount of public affection she was comfortable with, off campus, especially once Landon showed up.

I’m not worried about that here. I position her in front of my body, and Harlow leans back against me naturally. She lifts the hand not holding the copper cup, sliding it into my hair as she relaxes even more. Then Harlow tilts her head back to look up at me, her green eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed pink. Winks at me, before glancing back at the stage to focus on the music.

And all I’m thinking about is how good it feels to have her look at me like that.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as Harlow walks toward me.

I’m waiting by the coat check. She had to go to the bathroom before we headed out and she wasn’t wearing this glum expression when she left.

“I wanted to buy some merch from the band, but they’re cash only.”

“We can look for an ATM? I don’t have any cash either.”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just go.”

We retrieve our jackets and then head back outside. Halfway to the car, Harlow grabs my arm. I glance along the street, worried something is wrong.

“There’s a doughnut place!”

I relax. “Jesus, Hayes. Have you never seen Holey Moley before?”

She stares at me. Laughs. “Never seen it? Hart, I’m their most loyal customer. Eve and I go there every weekend. Sometimes times a weekend.”

“Okay, okay. You love doughnuts. Got it.”

“Can we go?”

I’m sure she could ask me to do absolutely anything right now, and I would. Just to keep that excited look on her face.

“Yeah, sure.”

We pass my parked car and then head into the small doughnut place. It’s popular, mostly filled with people who look like they came from the same bar we did. Neon signs decorate the space, and a few plastic booths line the walls. My stomach grumbles as soon as we enter, warm air saturated with the scent of sugar and fried dough surrounding us. There’s a huge chalkboard above the metal bins that the doughnuts are stored in listing off all the possible flavors.

I order a maple bacon doughnut, and Harlow decides on a chocolate sprinkled one. We snag one of the open booths. I finish my doughnut in approximately two bites. Harlow is tearing off tiny pieces and eating them methodically, occasionally licking her fingers.

“So good,” she moans, and just like that—I’m getting hard.

I grab a napkin off the table to wipe my fingers, then ball it up in my fist as I deliberate on how to say this.

“There’s the, uh, winter sports banquet next Friday.”

“What does that mean?” She’s focused on her doughnut, pressing a piece of it into the sprinkles that have fallen on the plate.

“It’s just a thing the athletics department does every year. There’s food and they hand out awards and stuff. No alcohol and we have to dress up, so half the guys hate it.”

“Doesn’t sound that bad. I’m sure you’ll survive it.”

I smile. “Yeah, I’m sure I will. But what I’m trying to ask, Hayes, is if you’ll go with me.”

Now I have her full attention. Harlow freezes, a bite of doughnut halfway to her mouth. “Go with you?”

“Yeah, we’re allowed to bring guests. Family members, former coaches, whoever we want.”

“And you’re inviting me as your…”

“Date.”

“Right.”

She looks a little dazed. Stunned, actually.

I start to get nervous, worried I misread this whole thing. Maybe I’m the only one who’s feeling this way.

“If you’re busy or you don’t want to, it’s—”

“Ask me.”

“What?”

“You said you were to ask me. Follow through, Hart.”

I smirk. “Fine. Will you go with me, Harlow?”

She smiles back, her cheeks flushing as she picks up the last bite of her doughnut. “Yes.”