Page 13 of Harper

I kiss her on the cheek.

And then, because I’m so damn grateful, I kiss my uncle, too.

***

I don’t try to hold Harper’s hand. It feels too forward to reach for it. Plus, if she pulls away, it’ll mean she only sees me as a friend, and I’ll want to die.

The walk from Smuggler’s Cove to Yakutania Point takes us around the coastline, along Skagway’s rocky beaches and jagged inlets. In the distance, across the water, are the snow-covered mountain peaks of Haines State Forest. They’re white year-round, and something about that consistency appeals to me. We’re always reminded that winter is coming.

I say as much to Harper, and she makes a joke about the George R. R. Martin book, A Game of Thrones.

“You’re reading the Song of Fire and Ice series?” I ask her, stopping in my tracks.

“I’m addicted!” she says, turning around to face me.

“What book are you on?”

“Just finished A Storm of Swords. You?”

“I read A Feast of Crows last year. I’m waiting for the next one. He writes too slow.”

“You’re ahead of me. Don’t tell me what happens!”

“Never!” I vow, putting my hand over my heart.

She takes a step toward me and places her palm over mine. “Who’s your favorite couple?”

Her skin is warm. Her fingers curl gently around mine. My mind goes blank.

“Couple?”

“Romantic couple,” she says. “In the series.”

I don’t read Martin for the romance. I read him for the action—for the political machinations and constant jockeying for power. That said, I don’t want to disappoint her by not answering her question. The problem is she’s standing so close to me, her palm covering the back of my hand, it’s making it hard for me to think straight.

A couple. A couple. Any couple! Come on, Joe!

I say the first pairing that comes to mind. “Jaime and Cersei!”

Her eyebrows bunch together, and her nose wrinkles.

“Jaime and Cersei? Huh. Really?”

No, not really! I want to yell. The incestuous brother and sister pair are not my favorite romantic couple, but I’m too distracted to think of another!

“Mine are Jon and Ygritte,” she says, dropping her hand and turning away from me. She leans down and chooses a flat stone, rubbing it between her fingers before skipping it across the still water.

One-two-three-four-five. Plunk.

I stand behind her, feeling like I’ve failed a test.

“Jaime and Cersei aren’t my favorite couple,” I say, squatting down to look for my own flat rock. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

I look up at her, my eyes squinting a little because the sun’s so bright. Standing in front of it, with a halo of light over her blonde head, she looks like an angel.

“Because you had your hand over mine,” I admit. “Because you were touching me. I could barely breathe, let alone think.”

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