Page 67 of The Foul Out

When it was our turn and the DJ cued up “You may be right,” I laughed.

“You’re right. This is the perfect song for you,” I teased as I took one of the mics from the man running things. “You seriously might be crazy.”

Kyle shook his head, making his highlights pop under the bright stage lighting. “Or.” He smirked. “Maybe I’m just the lunatic you’ve been looking for.”

A thrill coursed through me as he grasped my arm and pulled me onto the stage. Because I was starting to believe that could be true.

Three hours,four dances, two drinks, and one Disney song later, we pulled up in front of her building. All the uncertainty that had plagued me a few hours earlier had disappeared. A switch had flipped tonight. And it had happened even before my lips touched hers.

For one long second, when Harper had casually asked about letting a guy down easy, my heart plummeted. My first thought was that she had been referring to me. It was in that moment that it became abundantly clear: I never wanted to be friend-zoned by this woman.

Elation rushed through me like a tidal wave when I realized she was talking about her douchey neighbor. The sensation was only slightly cooled by the reality of the situation I’d found myself in. But it was too late to fight it. It might be wrong, but I wanted her anyway.

I never walked away from a challenge, and this had the potential to be the biggest one of my life.

I needed to kiss her again. To hold her in my arms. To call her mine.

I was going to have to talk to JJ. And my parents. My entire family would have a lot to say about this. There would be heated opinions about a relationship between Harper and me. But that problem wasn’t insurmountable. It was a topic I’d broach when I was home for Thanksgiving next week. Emotions might run high at first, but they’d all settle in time. Once I handled that, I could talk to Harper.

“Well.” She glanced at me, then out the window, clearly nervous, as the driver stopped at the curb. “This is me.”

Like I didn’t know where she lived.

A flustered Harper might give baby kittens a run for their money in the cuteness department.

“Yeah.” I opened the door and climbed out, then turned and held out a hand to her.

“Y-you’re coming in?” She blinked in a way that reminded me so much of Piper. Her eyes were filled with a mix of uncertainty and concern, emotions her daughter, unfortunately, experienced too often.

“I grew up in Texas, and where I come from, walking a woman to her door is nonnegotiable.”

With a light sigh, she took my hand and stepped down.

“What happens after we get to her door,” I murmured, pulling her close, “is in her hands.”

She froze for a beat, letting me hold her there. But when she finally rebooted and brushed past me, I got another whiff of the whipped-cream scent. It had faded as the night went on, but like a moth to a flame, I had to lean in as she passed.

“Did you just sniff me?” She spun, her lips pursed with displeasure as she assessed me.

I shrugged.

“Do I smell?” she asked, her tone laced with worry.

Chuckling, I tucked her into my side. “Like the best kind of dessert, Crabby.” I pressed my lips to the crown of her head.

She pulled out her key fob, but before we made it to the front door, I took it, along with her door key.

“Hey!” She pouted.

“You’re drunk. I don’t want you dropping them.”

For that comment, she rewarded me with the cute little line between her brows that came only when she glared. Pissing her off should not light me up the way it did, but I’d developed this obsession with getting her riled up, then working to make her smile again.

Clearly, therewas something wrong with me.

“You’re doing it on purpose. Aren’t you?” she accused as I held the fob up to the sensor.

“Of course,” I said, grasping the door handle. “We want to go inside, so obviously, opening the door is required.”

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