Harper
“Twenty years old, and you’re hiding in your room because you had sex,” I mutter around my toothbrush. I’ve been waiting my parents out. My parents—who are early risers. I haven’t slept a wink and I got home too late to sneak into their room without being caught. Knowing them, there’s a good chance they won’t even open it today. They’re not exactly social media experts and only downloaded the app so my sister, Kandace, could snap them pics of my nephew. I send my twentieth text to Kandace praying she calls me back. Briefly, I consider running through the house, jumping in my SUV and hauling ass to Houston where she lives and is capable of having sex without announcing it to the whole damned family. Just as I curse her for not coming to my rescue, my phone lights up, and I see her name.
“Kan—”
“Oh, my God, you idiot. You just killed our father!”
“Shut up! Shut up! What do I do?”
“Get a fucking crash cart,” she yelps over the phone before she bursts into laughter. “Has he seen it?”
“No. Not yet.”
“You’ve got to get that phone. Steal it. Smash it. Both of their phones.”
“I will. Just…how?”
“I’ll tell you, but can we talk about that ass for four seconds. Jesus. Way to go big or go home.”
Panic courses through me. “Did you notice the jersey?”
“Yeah, seriously, what were you thinking?”
“I just wanted…” I don’t know how to answer that. We’re close, she knows why. She’s just as nervous as I am.
“I get it. I do. But Harper…”
“I was giddy. And I couldn’t sleep.”
“How do you feel?”
“Mortified. That’s a good description.”
“Well, just tell Dad you meant to send it to me.”
“Because that will go over well,” I scoff. “This is serious. You think he’ll kick him off the team?”
“You know he can’t. Don’t be dramatic. Who is it?”
“Not telling. Ever. So don’t ask.” I vow to myself then and there no matter what I face with my dad I won’t ever crack.
“Was it awesome?”
“It was until I told him who I was.”
“Oh, shit. You didn’t tell him?”
“No. The whole first month we met we were kind of at odds, and then it just, you know, happened…God.” I bury my head in my hands. “How am I going to explain this to Dad?”
“Tell him you wanted to brag to your sister that you bagged a hottie.”
“Hey!”
“It’s the truth, and I tell you all the time you’re pretty and you don’t believe me.”
“Because I’m not. Not for a guy like that.”
“He disagrees.”