Page 13 of Dear Hattie

Her legs hitch around my hips. I send up a silent prayer of thanks.

“This is my favorite place in the whole, wide world,” I tell her.

“The ball pit?”

“No. Between these thighs, Harriet Fry.”

She scoffs again, but she’s blushing crimson now, rocking up against me, and Christ, thisfriction.It short-circuits my brain. “You’re just messing with me again. Messing with my head.”

My chest shudders with pain, even as I keep thrusting down, rubbing against her too. Is that what she thinks of me?

Well, what exactly have I done to deserve otherwise? The two of us have years and years ofthisbetween us: sniping and teasing and hazy motives. Sparks and doubt.

“Never,” I tell her, voice hoarse, and bend down to nibble her earlobe. “Not about this, Harriet. I swear.”

This time, when I kiss her, she moans against my mouth. Arms wrap around my neck and tug me closer, and even though the balls shift and suck us further into the pit, I don’t care.

Don’t care if we’re sinking into weird plastic quick sand. Don’t care that someone could walk through the lobby at any moment and hear us rustling in here. Don’t care that it’s hot and dusty and smells faintly of chemicals.

Don’t. Care.

Harriet is back in my arms, back where she belongs, and I am in this. Won’t let her go ever again if I can help it. Maybe, after we drag ourselves out of this pit, I’ll sling her over my shoulder and take her home forever.

“Don’t make me come,” Harriet whispers, cutting off with a tortured groan. My hips work above her, rubbing our bodies together through our clothes. “I get pretty loud.”

She does? I bury my face in her throat. “Hallelujah.”

“Wesley!” She grips my hair again, twisting the strands, and pleasure arrows through my gut. “I’m serious. This lobby echoes like crazy, and I don’t want people to hear us. Hearme.”

That slows me down. I grit my teeth and force my body to stop moving, stop grinding against my girl like it’s the most natural thing in the world, because she’s right. I already embarrassed Harriet Fry once. I will not do it again.

“We’d better get out of here,” I mutter. Don’t want her to get caught in here with me, even if the thought does fill me with possessive pride. And the lobby may be empty right now, but that could change any second. “Remind me to ravish you in a nap egg next time. Much better privacy.”

Harriet laughs softly, and she takes my offered hand as I help her up. I wade to the side of the pit, still clutching her hand. Plastic balls drop off us both, pinging hollowly back into the pool, and my legs are unsteady as I step out onto the tiles. I give into my caveman impulses one more time and lift her out after me.

“There,” I say, setting her carefully on her feet. “I knew you could stand unassisted. Well done, Fry.”

Harriet growls and smacks my shoulder, but she’s grinning this time. We stand close together, chests heaving, and we both look rumpled as hell. I watch the realization dawn on her face at the same time.

“We’d better…” Harriet gestures between us, then takes a few steps back. She tugs her dress straight and clears her throat, and slips back into coworker mode. My heart sinks, but I force myself to keep smiling. “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” I agree, though I’d much rather keep her with me tonight. Actually, make that every night. Every minute of every damn day. “I’ll wait for you in the nap egg with a rose between my teeth.”

Her soft laughter echoes around the lobby.

Eight

Dear Hattie

Dear Hattie,

I’ve been lying to my family for over a year. They think I’m in graduate school, building a hotshot academic career, and spending my weekends studying in a sleek, college-funded city apartment. In reality, I work in an admin role for a small environmental charity, share a tiny apartment with three other roommates, and can barely afford bus fare.

I don’t know why I ever started lying. I really did apply for graduate school, but when I didn’t get in I just… couldn’t bear disappointing my parents. They’ve both sacrificed so much for me, coming to this country and working their fingers to the bone so I could have a better life. In return, I was meant to be this golden, successful child. But I’m not, Hattie. I’ve tried my best, but I’m not.

Ilikemy charity job. I like my roommates. Sure, I don’t love scraping for bus fare, but is this life really so bad?

How do I confess the truth, Hattie? And what do I do if my parents love me less? I’m so messed up over this.

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