Page 28 of Every Little Thing

Paisley

Harper wouldn’t look at me when she came out of the bedroom and joined me in the kitchen, but I knew she would sneak a glance at me anyway. I was too attractive not to.

Well, at the very least, I wanted to be. Maybe it was just me covering up my insecurities by joking about them, but did we really think Paisley of all people would do that?

Anyway, Harper was wearing pants now, which was kind of a shame. She slept in some cute panties.

“Seriously,” she mumbled, sinking down at the table where I’d set up the fanciest breakfast spread I could, “would it kill you to not break into my house for one day?”

“I mean, if it’s going to kill anyone, it’d be me.” I turned the music volume down a tick and sat down with her, picking up a piece of the brioche and biting into cinnamon-honey heaven, sweet and sharp flavors rolling around in my mouth. I sighed happily. “God, it’s so good I want to scream. I don’t know where I’m going to find brioche like it once you’re…” I swallowed thebread, a nervous sensation suddenly in my chest. “You know, once you bail.”

Harper looked away. “And that’s why you decided to break into my house to steal some?”

“C’mon. You can say thank you. Judging by you sleeping until almost seven, you really needed this day off.”

She was quiet for a while, picking at her brioche, taking a long sip of coffee, before she muttered, not looking directly at me, “I honestly really did. So… thanks.”

Sincerity gave me a nervous rush in my chest that I tried to push down. I leaned forward, pushing my food away. “Okay, so I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh, god.”

“Jeez, try not to be so excited. It’s your favorite person ever, Paisley, suggesting it.”

She rubbed her forehead. “I thought it was me deciding what we were doing on this… bucket-list tour?”

“Yeah, it is. But this isn’t about that. This is aboutmybucket list. NowI’mthe one taking the bucket.”

“Taking the…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not even sure what figure of speech you’re confusing it with.”

She was so cute when she scrunched up her nose like that. I was going to miss getting that kind of reaction from her. I took a long breath, pushing down the racing of my heart, and I found I… couldn’t really say what came next.

Oh, god. I didn’t recognize myself not being able to say something. I was Paisley Macleod, human whirlwind. But I was… um, nervous. I squeezed my hands together and tried to let out the anxiety, but it didn’t go anywhere. I wanted to kick myself.

Harper gave me an odd look, her eyebrows raised. “Er… Pais? Are you okay?”

“Um. Yeah! I’m good.”

Concern flashed over her eyes, which was the most awkward possibility in an already awkward situation. She shifted closer to me. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s—nothing.” I took a huge bite of brioche, and I let a breath out slowly.

Dammit.I was scared.

“Pais?”

I sat up with such a jerk I banged my knees on the table. Harper jumped. I pushed the words out of my mouth in a tumble. “Help me out with my identity crisis.”

“Er—I beg your pardon?”

“You’re leaving, so it only makes sense.”

She stared at me. “I’m… not actually sure anything you’re saying makes sense.”

“Oh my god, it’s like you’re trying to give me a hernia.” I threw my hands up. “An identity crisis! You know what that is.”

“Ido,but—in the first place, since when were you having an identity crisis?”

I collapsed against the table. With the words out there now, it was easier to speak, easier to let it out, like a wall had broken. “I don’t really know,” I mumbled. “A while, I think? Maybe like… when Aria first came to visit.”

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