"You think?" I joked as I exhaled an inward sigh of relief.
Chapter Three
Look What You've Done
Callum
“Tell me why you didn’t apply for college,” I asked her as we walked back to the studio at ten to midnight.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “How do you know I never applied?” She said.
“Well, I just assumed. You told me you weren’t going to school.”
“I did apply, to several schools, actually.”
“And?” I asked, both eyebrows raised, but she didn’t respond. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”
“I got into a few,” she added cryptically, a smile tugging at the side of her mouth.
“I don’t understand. Why aren’t you going to college then?”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
“I can’t go.”
“Why, Harper?”
“Because...,” she sighed, her shoulders drooping in resignation, “because I wouldn’t be able to do it. I don’t think I can do it.” She suddenly steeled herself, standing tall, pushing back her shoulders and raising her head. “It’s too late now anyway. It’s nearly June. There’s no way I could even enroll.”
“How would you even know that Harper? Unless you tried?”
She smiled and ducked her face in her chest, her chin shook back and forth.
“Where were you accepted?” I asked, moving on to the most important part.
“A bunch of state colleges.” She cleared her throat. “NYU.”
I playfully push her as if to say ‘get out’ but she doesn’t expect it and almost toppled over. I reached for her clumsily, caught her by the waist, and brought her into my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured into her ear.
She stared up at me, so beautiful, lips full, eyes bright with excitement. Her sweet breath smelled of the strawberry lips gloss she had a habit, I noticed, of applying every half hour. She was so close I could smell her hair again and I forgot myself, openly inhaling her.
“What are you doing?” She asked, straightening herself from my grasp, cheeks flamed.
“Smelling you,” I stupidly blurt, removing my grip from her small waist.
She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing and wrinkled her nose. “Wh-what for?” She stammered.
“Because you smell like oranges, pineapples and the ocean. It’s the most unusual scent I’ve ever smelled and it’s addictive,” I confessed. Her face lost its playfulness. “I first smelled you in that lobby, Harper and I wanted to bury my face in your hair then, too.” Harper’s breathing sped up as she studied my face, looking for something but I’m not quite sure what. “Anyway, I’m sorry,” I continued. “It won’t happen again, I apologize.”
I started walking, the embarrassment too much to shoulder and cowardly hide through my false determination to reach the studio. Harper slowly caught up with me and we walked side by side for the majority of the walk in silence.
“So,” I uttered suddenly, nearing the door, trying to make light of what happened, “journalism and NYU, I’ve heard, are a fantastic combination.”
Harper laughed out loud. “It does, one of the best actually.”