Page 21 of Drowning Erin

She retreats to her desk after I’ve agreed. “And do me a favor,” she calls from the other side of the wall. “Try not to dress like we’re heading to tea or an American Girl doll party, okay?”

I flip her off.

“And stop flipping me off,” she adds.

* * *

I meet her on Friday night at a bar where some band she loves is playing. I’m wearing a tank and skinny jeans, which is probably far less slutty than she’d prefer but appears to suffice.

While we wait for our drinks, Harper tells me about the guy she met out the night before, who kept insisting they go to her place—something she has a strict rule against—and finally admitted after she consistently refused that he was homeless. I don’t ask if she still slept with him because I think there’s a significant possibility she did.

We get our drinks, and Harper drags me back to the pool tables, her eyes already assessing the situation, deciding who she’ll take home.

“How many minutes do I have before you’re pulling some guy into the bathroom?” I ask.

“I’m not that bad,” she replies.

“You pulled someone into the bathroom the last time we went out.”

“Well, I’m not doing it tonight, but… Wow…” She stops midstream, and my eyes follow hers to the guy at the far end of the room: 6’3”, broad shoulders, nice ass. “Unless it’s him. I don’t care what his face looks like.”

He isn’t facing us, but I’d know those shoulders anywhere.

And though he’s too far away to have heard us, he turns, his gaze breezing past Harper and landing directly on me.

“Wait,” says Harper, “Isn’t that…”

“Brendan,” I say.

“I’m gonna do things to that man you don’t even know can be done,” she says under her breath.

I feel an odd sort of panic, something fluttering and desperate. I want to distract her from him like a child, offer her candy or a balloon in his place. “You don’t want to do that,” I tell her.

“Why? Because you want him for yourself?”

“No! Of course not.”

He puts down his pool stick and moves toward us while Harper gives me a knowing look.

“You sure about that, Erin? Last chance to admit it before I make my move.”

I’m engaged. I don’t want him for myself. I just don’t want her to have him either, which she definitely will, because all men love Harper. And right now she’s wearing a micro-mini and thigh-high boots, so they’ll super love her.

Except Brendan doesn’t even seem to notice. “What are you doing here?” he demands, looking only at me. “You never go out.”

I’m more than a little irritated by his tone, which is undeniably displeased. “I’m not stalking you, asshole. We came to see the band.”

He eyes my tank top. “And why are you dressed like that?”

I roll my eyes. “Why? Does this not meet your high standards?”

He shakes his head, the action so minute I get the feeling it wasn’t intended for me. “You just…normally you’re all covered up. With sweaters and shit.”

“Brendan, it’s the first warm night in nine months. I’m not wearing a sweater.”

“Yeah,” he says, flinching, running a hand over his shorn scalp. “I noticed. It’s fine. Just…be careful.”

“Be careful of what?”