Page 21 of In the Net (Sin Bin Stories #5)
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’m not thinking. 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—and that’s something 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 …
Harper must sense the hesitation on my face. “Sebastian, you are not chickening out on seeing him after you spent all last night dumping your guilt on me.” The tone in her voice brooks no disagreement. “Take out your phone.”
“What?”
“Do it.”
I wonder if she’s this bossy in …
Nope, not going there.
When I take out my phone, she says, “Now book a flight back home. First thing. You have a chance to make things right. Don’t waste it.”
I’d kick myself if these words even occurred to me just one week ago, but Harper’s right. It’s a hit to my bank account that makes me cringe, but I book a flight that’ll bring me back to my hometown for the day after we arrive back in Vermont.
“I booked it.”
“Good,” Harper says, measuring me with a demanding look. “I’m coming to your house that day to make sure you actually went. If you chicken out, I’m going to kick your ass.”
A laugh pops out of my mouth, while at the same time, there’s an inexplicable twitch at the base of my dick.
“Duly noted.”
While we make our way to our gate and wait for our flight to board, I feel two totally contrasting emotions.
I want to put some distance between me and Harper after that kiss, but at the same time, I feel an almost physical pull toward her.
The pull I really feel is on my eyes, toward those lips that I just pressed mine against. It’s a gargantuan battle for my will to keep my eyes from flitting in their direction, and it’s a battle I lose more than once before we line up to board.
Luckily, we’re not sitting next to each other on the flight home.
While we jet through the sky back to America, I think about exactly what I’m going to say to Bryce when I see him. I run through all the possibilities in my head of how he’s going to take me showing up in his hospital room after all these years.
As much as I wish I could say otherwise, that’s not the only thing I’m thinking about.
I’m thinking about the kiss, too.