Read Online Closer Than They Appear by Jess Riley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jess Riley
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Don’t roofie her drink, and don’t be a dick.”
Sam laughed defensively. After Natalie became engrossed in conversation with Sharon, he said to Harper, “She hasn’t changed. And neither have you. Still the prettiest girl in the room.”
“Ha-ha.” Her cheeks flared with self-conscious heat. It was exactly the kind of thing a man who’d led a double life for nearly a year would say, and she hated that part of her still liked it, maybe just a little. With Natalie focused elsewhere, Harper began to feel exposed. She wished she hadn’t worn the yellow, ruffled sundress with the skinny, shoulder-baring straps, or the red platform wedges with the ankle-tie ribbons. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea—staying here, having a drink with Sam like it was still last August, like she’d never found those emails, like Atlanta never even happened. He was looking at her with those sad eyes again: I know you. I hurt you. I’m sorry. She cleared her throat. She could be strong, easy-going, cool. More than six months had passed—that was enough time gone by to try friendship with an ex, right? Things were different now. She was different now. “Any interesting stories from the road? I mean air?”
He smiled, and the deep dimples she’d adored appeared on his cheeks. “Always. There was this one woman on my flight last week …”
While he talked, she listened and nodded, laughing at all the right parts, but her mind began to drift. He ordered them another round of drinks, and she tried to place her feelings. She didn’t want him back exactly, but her eyes kept returning to the hands that had absently stroked her hair while they watched TV on the couch, the arms she’d nestled into late at night.
She thought of how she hadn’t seen her pretend boyfriend at their intersection in nearly a week, not since she’d missed him at Kwik Trip. It was silly, anyway. He was a figment of her imagination. A daydream, a mirage, a distraction. Spring semester would be over in a few weeks, and she probably wouldn’t see him all summer … and who knows if she’d see him in fall?
He was a pipe dream. Pun maybe intended.
Recognize what’s happening here , she told herself. But recognizing it was one thing; doing the right thing was something else entirely.
PART THREE
Zach
“I DON’T KNOW if I could be friends with you if you wore pants like that,” Josh said, nodding his head at a slender young man to their right. The guy was sipping a neon blue drink through a tiny straw, and below his white shirt and the peach-colored, nubby scarf coiled around his neck, he was wearing the tightest skinny jeans Zach had ever seen. They were bright green, and they looked nearly spray-painted on.
“Dude looks like a fruit roll-up.”
Zach snorted, still trying to get the bartender’s attention amidst a pushing, shoving herd of similarly frustrated patrons. “Jesus Christ, remind me why we came here again? I feel like I’m in some third-world country waiting for bags of rice to be tossed out the back of a United Nations truck.”
“Because this place is a pastry box,” Josh said, “strumpet city.” He was still staring with wonder at the effeminate man in the slim green jeans. “Guy’s gotta have Low T. That’s the only explanation for why a dude would wear those pants. And that scarf.”
“What’s the explanation for the disaster you’re wearing?”
Josh glanced down at his plaid shorts and a T-shirt that read, STARE AT ME IN DISGUST (if you want to blow me). “What’s wrong with this? I look sick!”
Zach rolled his eyes, finally flagging down one of the harried bartenders. He ordered two Newcastles to keep it simple. “I think you put that on so you could match this Kid Rock song.”
Josh shrugged. “I guess it looked better on your mother’s bedroom floor. And what the fuck kind of shirt do you have on?”
Zach was wearing a gray T-shirt featuring two iPhone text bubbles that read:
-Let’s talk about
Sam laughed defensively. After Natalie became engrossed in conversation with Sharon, he said to Harper, “She hasn’t changed. And neither have you. Still the prettiest girl in the room.”
“Ha-ha.” Her cheeks flared with self-conscious heat. It was exactly the kind of thing a man who’d led a double life for nearly a year would say, and she hated that part of her still liked it, maybe just a little. With Natalie focused elsewhere, Harper began to feel exposed. She wished she hadn’t worn the yellow, ruffled sundress with the skinny, shoulder-baring straps, or the red platform wedges with the ankle-tie ribbons. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea—staying here, having a drink with Sam like it was still last August, like she’d never found those emails, like Atlanta never even happened. He was looking at her with those sad eyes again: I know you. I hurt you. I’m sorry. She cleared her throat. She could be strong, easy-going, cool. More than six months had passed—that was enough time gone by to try friendship with an ex, right? Things were different now. She was different now. “Any interesting stories from the road? I mean air?”
He smiled, and the deep dimples she’d adored appeared on his cheeks. “Always. There was this one woman on my flight last week …”
While he talked, she listened and nodded, laughing at all the right parts, but her mind began to drift. He ordered them another round of drinks, and she tried to place her feelings. She didn’t want him back exactly, but her eyes kept returning to the hands that had absently stroked her hair while they watched TV on the couch, the arms she’d nestled into late at night.
She thought of how she hadn’t seen her pretend boyfriend at their intersection in nearly a week, not since she’d missed him at Kwik Trip. It was silly, anyway. He was a figment of her imagination. A daydream, a mirage, a distraction. Spring semester would be over in a few weeks, and she probably wouldn’t see him all summer … and who knows if she’d see him in fall?
He was a pipe dream. Pun maybe intended.
Recognize what’s happening here , she told herself. But recognizing it was one thing; doing the right thing was something else entirely.
PART THREE
Zach
“I DON’T KNOW if I could be friends with you if you wore pants like that,” Josh said, nodding his head at a slender young man to their right. The guy was sipping a neon blue drink through a tiny straw, and below his white shirt and the peach-colored, nubby scarf coiled around his neck, he was wearing the tightest skinny jeans Zach had ever seen. They were bright green, and they looked nearly spray-painted on.
“Dude looks like a fruit roll-up.”
Zach snorted, still trying to get the bartender’s attention amidst a pushing, shoving herd of similarly frustrated patrons. “Jesus Christ, remind me why we came here again? I feel like I’m in some third-world country waiting for bags of rice to be tossed out the back of a United Nations truck.”
“Because this place is a pastry box,” Josh said, “strumpet city.” He was still staring with wonder at the effeminate man in the slim green jeans. “Guy’s gotta have Low T. That’s the only explanation for why a dude would wear those pants. And that scarf.”
“What’s the explanation for the disaster you’re wearing?”
Josh glanced down at his plaid shorts and a T-shirt that read, STARE AT ME IN DISGUST (if you want to blow me). “What’s wrong with this? I look sick!”
Zach rolled his eyes, finally flagging down one of the harried bartenders. He ordered two Newcastles to keep it simple. “I think you put that on so you could match this Kid Rock song.”
Josh shrugged. “I guess it looked better on your mother’s bedroom floor. And what the fuck kind of shirt do you have on?”
Zach was wearing a gray T-shirt featuring two iPhone text bubbles that read:
-Let’s talk about
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