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12
BRODY
The door creaks behind me as I step into the bedroom, half expecting Harper to claim the entire mattress like she’s a starfish.
Instead, she tucks herself neatly under the covers and props herself up on one elbow, grinning as if she’s been waiting her entire life for me to show up. She pats the empty space beside her, slow and deliberate, as if she’s inviting me to a death sentence. Crossing the line with her might be one. I’m not sure I’d survive Harper Alexander.
“Come on, Calloway,” she says, her voice teasing. “I don’t snore much. And I don’t bite too hard.”
I arch an eyebrow, shutting the door behind me without a word. Her grin widens, and it’s pure mischief.
She knows exactly what she’s doing. Hell, she’scountingon breaking me down, but two can play that game. I reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head in one smooth motion, tossing it onto the floor.
Harper scans up and down my body as if she’s memorizing every tattoo I have, and I can’t help but notice how she eye-fucks me.
The air surrounding us thickens, and I raise my brow. “See something you like?”
“Mmm.”
Her smile says it all as she rests her chin against her fist, watching me strip out of my jeans. Then I’m left standing in a loose pair of black shorts that hang low on my hips. The room feels hotter and much smaller as she zeroes in on me.
“What are you waiting for?” Harper taps the mattress again, her fingers pulling down the comforter for me. “What’s the matter? Afraid?”
“You’re the one who should be worried, Harp.” I give her a pointed look. “Don’t cross the invisible line in the middle of the mattress.”
“Is that where it’s been hiding?”
I read the meaning behind her words. She’s referring to the invisible line the two of us are teetering and have been for years.
“Hilarious,” I say dryly.
“Look, I already warned you—no promises. I like to snuggle. Ask Billie.” She snorts and tilts her head, as if she’s daring me to do something about it. “Is this the center?” She reaches over, further teasing me. “Or is it here?”
“Don’t test me, Harp.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw, fighting the smirk creeping across my face as I move closer. As I slide between the sheets, the mattress dips under my weight, and I keep a healthy amount of space between us—not because I want to, but because there is no uncrossing that line once we do.
Harper hums under her breath like she can feel the tension radiating off me. “Relax, Calloway,” she whispers.
“Easy for you to say,” I tell her as I reach over and turn off the lamp.
“I’m harmless,” she offers, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
“The fuck you are,” I reply.
I glance over at her, letting my eyes trace down the slope of her bare shoulder peeking out from the blanket.
I swear I can feel that gorgeous curve of her lips tilt upward without even seeing it. I turn onto my back, staring up at the ceiling with two feet of space between us. I hug the edge of the mattress even though I want to be close to her. So little distance is left between me and the one damn thing I want but know I can’t have.
She deserves better than me. Doesn’t she? She deserves a man who isn’t broken.
The night stretches around us, heavy with every word we’re trying not to say. I’m lost in my thoughts, and God help me, I’m already losing this battle.
The room settles into a still silence that makes my ears ring. I can hear every creak in this old house, coupled with the rustle of sheets as Harper shifts, trying to get comfortable. I stay on my side of the bed as if it’s a matter of survival, one arm slung behind my head. I focus on the wooden beams as if they’ll offer me some sound advice about this entire situation—they don’t.
The mattress gives slightly as Harper rolls closer, not all the way, but enough that the covers tighten between us. Enough that when she stretches out her foot, it brushes against my calf. My whole body goes rigid, every nerve suddenly aware of her. Neither of us moves. Not away anyway. I think she’s still awake and testing the waters. Harper doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t apologize or pull away. She just breathes, slow and steady, allowing the connection to linger between us, warm and reckless.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, inhaling a breath that feels heavier than it should. Two feet of space didn’t survive the first hour. At this rate, we won’t survive the night.