Page 44 of In the Net
The bridge of my nose burns. It’s only when wetness slides down my cheek that I realize my eyes are stinging and full of tears of relief.
I look at Harper. Her eyes are wide, a smile carved on her face.
Happiness like I’ve never felt before spreads through my chest. Jubilant happiness, the kind that makes me want to jump up and down, scream, hug everyone I see. Relief and gratitude flood through me, and suddenly I feel so vibrantly alive that every symptom of my hangover vanishes.
My best friend is going to live.
I’m going to have the chance to see him again. To talk to him again. To apologize.
I don’t even care if he doesn’t want to see me. If he stopped thinking about me a long time ago. If he balls up any apology I give him and throws it in the trash. As long as he knows I haven’t just forgotten about him, that’s enough for me.
I’m buzzing with happiness, excitement shooting through my veins and making me restless. Without even thinking, I wrap my arms around Harper and pull her into a hug, squeezing her tight against my chest.
I press her close, bouncing on the heels of my feet. I’m lightheaded, almost delirious from the emotional rollercoaster I’m on.
I’m not even thinking. It’s like I’m not in control of my body. I’m overflowing with so much exuberance that it needs a physical release.
I step back from the hug, take Harper’s face into my hands, and I kiss her.
It’s impossible to say what I’m thinking, because I’mnotthinking. I’m just so damn happy, I need to do something, and Harper’s right there, her face is right there, her lips are right there, and all I can think to do is kiss her.
I press my lips to hers, and if I thought I was buzzing before, there’s a high-voltage current ripping through me now.
Her scent floods my senses, spicy notes of citrus wafting from her hair. My nose nudges against hers as I press my lips firmly to her mouth. She doesn’t pull away, even as I feel her suck in a shocked gasp through her nostrils.
The full weight of the fact that I just kissed Harper Brees hasn’t even registered with my brain when I pull back for air. What does register with my brain, though, is the searing tingle on my lips.
I’m still high as I pull in that first breath, the rush of happiness at the news of Bryce’s recovery still beating in my chest.
But when I exhale it, reality finds a crack to wiggle back into my brain, and awareness hits.
I just kissed Harper, the girl I haven’t been able to stand for three long years.
My eyes go wide as full realization sinks into me. The jubilance that was just filling me quickly washes away as guilt replaces it.
“Harper, shit, I didn’t mean to …” I flail around for the right words to explain the unexplainable. “I really don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry.”
Harper’s expression is blank and stunned, mouth still parted, eyes blinking slowly, and cheeks splotched with crimson. That color looks way too good against her porcelain skin, framed by her copper hair—andthat’ssomething that I shouldn’t even be fucking noticing, especially not right after I kissed her.
She shakes her head. “It’s okay … I mean, you were …”
“In shock,” I finish for her. That’s it. Going from the worst I’ve ever felt in my life to the best I’ve ever felt short-circuited my brain.
She nods, like that explanation satisfies whatever’s going through her head, too. “Right.”
“Still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Obviously.”
I am sorry for kissing her without her permission. And it goes without saying that I shouldn’t have done it. But why is this compulsion humming through me to step forward and do it again? It’s a purely instinctual feeling, like I’ve been starving all day, just had a bite of a delicious meal, and need to dig into the rest of it.
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I mean, people do crazy things in emotional moments like this.”
I nod, inhaling a deep breath through my nose. “Bryce is going to be okay,” I say out loud, like I’m testing the idea, skeptical that it’s actually real.
That brings a wide smile to Harper’s face. Those lips I just kissed look really fucking good in that upward curve.
“Now you can see him and tell him everything you told me.”
This time when I nod, my head feels a lot heavier. Would now be the right time to see him? What if he’s so pissed at me that seeing me in person is bad for his recovery? What if …
