North
I've gotten myself into trouble before.
I was suspended and nearly expelled for fighting during my brief stint in a human high school.
About five years ago, Heath and I got arrested for stealing clothes off someone's washing line after a night we spent drunkenly changing in and out of our wolf forms.
Last year, we all got yelled at by our Alpha—Reed's father—for pulling a particularly hilarious prank on the emissaries involving a bucket-load of whipped cream.
I'm no stranger to being in trouble. But this is a new kind of trouble. The consequences are very, very real. I could lose my mate if I stuff this up and there is nothing in the world more important to me than her.
From across the living room, I watch as April helps Reed cook dinner. It is effortless between them, despite everything they have been through. He wraps his arms around her from behind and kisses her cheek while she peels potatoes.
Everyone else is outside, so this is my chance to ensure April reaches out to Harper. I made my mate a promise and I can't break it.
I head across the living room and stop at the kitchen bench.
April smiles tentatively—she thinks I hate her, which isn't true at all. Although I admit we probably wouldn't be friends under normal circumstances, I have respect for her.
"You need to call Harper," I say, my voice more tense and gruff than I'd like. April's eyes go wide.
"What?"
"North, we spoke about this," Reed warns me.
"All I'm asking is that you reach out to her and make sure she's alright," I insist. "Have you even spoken to her since you went to New York?"
April looks down at the bench, where she holds a skinless potato. Guilt twists her pale features. "No," she says. "I don't want to lie to her."
"So don't lie. Just don't tell her everything—that's not lying," I say, trying to forget the lies that I twisted myself in when I saw Harper earlier today.
"It's keeping secrets and I hate keeping secrets from her," April whines.
I plant my hands on the kitchen counter. "Then tell her the truth!"
"Watch it," Reed cautions.
"Fucking hell," I mutter. "This doesn't need to be so complicated. Just reach out and speak to her."
"Why are you all of a sudden asking me to do this?" April questions, suspicion in her voice.
"Because I have a vested interest in my mate's emotional state and I'm pretty sure she isn't going to be happy that her best friend has suddenly stopped speaking to her," I snap before turning and stalking away.
That...didn't go great.
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Harper
My dorm room is a disaster.
Piles of clothes line every available surface. I can hardly move an inch without tripping over a tangle of fabric.
My father pays extra so I have a more spacious dorm, with plenty of room for a couch and television, a big bed, a full-sized dresser and vanity table. But right now, it just looks like an ugly mass of clothes.
Usually, for a first date, April would help me get ready. She is great at picking outfits and styling them—far better than I am. And, as loath as I am to admit it, I'm nervous about my date with North tonight because I want it to go well.
I really like him. Yes, I've only met him twice, but...there's something about him that I can't quite explain. Like some force between us that is drawing us together.
Plus, he is extremely attractive. Maybe the hottest guy I've ever seen in real life. Messy, brunette curls and piercing blue-green eyes, with tan skin, a straight nose and full lips. He belongs on the cover of a magazine, not attending Yale university. But I am mighty glad that he's here.
Standing on a pile of denim skirts, I look at myself in the mirror, studying the black sweater dress that hugs my body. It's simple and...too boring? I slip on a diamond necklace my dad gave me for my last birthday.
Does that make it look nicer? Or is it too much, too showy?
I really wish April was here right now...
Suddenly, as though I conjured her via my thoughts alone, my phone begins to ring. I swipe it up from my vanity table and my eyes go wide when I see the caller ID.
"April?" I answer, waiting for the sound of her voice with bated breath.
"Hey, Harp," she says and I could almost cry in relief.
"Are you ok?" I ask, my voice wobbly.
"I'm ok. I'm so sorry I haven't reached out," she says and the phone line crackles like her reception is spotty.
"Are you still in New York?"
"Uh..." She hesitates. "No, it's--it's complicated. But I just wanted to call and let you know that I'm alright. And I miss you."
"I miss you too. A lot," I whisper. "When are you coming home?"
There's a pause. "I don't know, exactly. But I'll come and visit you soon, I promise. We've just got to...sort something out first."
"Who's we?" I wonder.
"Can I explain when I see you? I'll come down in a week or two, I promise," she says. "And everything will be alright."
April is always in control of everything. Unlike me, she's a planner. She always knows what to do and she always has a plan. So when she tells me everything will be alright, I believe her.
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North
Dusk paints the sky a burnt orange. I'm fifteen minutes early to pick Harper up, but I can't wait a moment longer.
I slip into her dorm building as some college students exit and then head up. She texted me and told me her room number yesterday.
At her door, I attempt to smooth my hair back—though it stubbornly flops onto my forehead—and then knock on the door.
I hear some stumbling around and a loud crash before the door is yanked open a slither and Harper's head pokes out.
"Hi!" She is flushed in her cheeks and glowing. "Uh...I'm not ready. I'm running behind. Two minutes. Maybe five."
She slams the door closed again before I have the chance to utter a word.
I'm happy to wait, though I wonder what she's doing in there. I hear a number of other bangs and slams like she's searching for something.
Finally, after about ten minutes, she emerges. And she is stunning—golden hair curled around her shoulders and lips painted a deep red. Her black dress hugs her slender body and ends mid thigh. I have never seen someone so utterly beautiful before.
My hands clench into fists as I try to keep myself from touching her. I need to maintain my distance in order to–
She launches herself at me.
I catch her in my arms, confused but by no means unhappy with the sudden attack-hug. She holds my neck tightly, her small body pressing against mine.
"Thank you," she breathes into my ear and suddenly I am rock hard in my pants. "April finally called me. I don't know what you said to get her to reach out to me, but...thank you."
So that's what this is about. I'm honestly surprised April did reach out; I wasn't sure what she'd do after our hostile conversation yesterday afternoon.
Harper tries to pull back, but I hold onto her, breathing her in. God, she's like sunshine.
Finally, after another few beats, I carefully place her back on the ground. My hands span either side of her waist.
"I'm glad she reached out," I say quietly.
"Sorry to attack you like that, I was just really excited," she beams, bouncing on her feet. "So, where are we off to?"
Planning dates is by no means my forte, and I couldn't ask Reed's advice—he's far better at the romance thing than me—because he can't know about this. So I went with something simple: dinner and a movie.
"We're going to a restaurant on Temple Street and then to see a movie," I tell her.
The expression on her face dims, just for a moment. In the space of a heartbeat, her smile is bright and pleasant again, but I didn't miss that shadow, that moment of disappointment.
Shit.
"Perfect, let's do it," she says, still bubbly and positive.
But I know I've fucked up somehow.
We walk down to the car side by side and I open her door for her.
As soon as we're driving, she's talking at a million miles an hour. Even faster than usual, I think.
"...and the professor was telling my friend, Didi, that her grade can't be bumped up by half a percent even though that's all it would take to pass and that there's no extra credit she can take and how unfair is that? And then she gets told that she'll have to retake the entire course and..."
At first, I think she's just excited to tell me this story about her friend Didi. But then I notice that she's smoothing her hands over her dress and hair again and again. I realize...she's nervous.
So I reach across the car console and take her hand in mine, giving it a firm squeeze.
The tension seems to leave her shoulders and her speech slows down a bit till the story ends with, "So, the professor bumped her up. Thankfully."
"That's good." Shit, I'm a stellar conversationalist, aren't I? Luckily, Harper seems to have that portion of the evening covered.
"So, did you grow up here? I asked you that yesterday but I don't think you answered it," she says.
"I grew up in a...rural area," I explain. "Not too far from here."
"Like, out near Bethany?"
"Not quite that far."
She hums, studying my profile as I stop at a red light. "Vague. Interesting. Why'd you choose engineering?"
Fuck. I'm going to have to lie again.
Unless...
"Did you grow up here?" I ask her, diverting the conversation.
"No, I grew up in Hartford. My dad still lives there," she explains. "Although, he's in D.C. a lot these days. More often than not."
"Do you get to see him much?"
She glances out the window, biting her bottom lip in a very distracting way. I have to remind myself to keep my eyes on the road.
"Not as much as I'd like," she says, her voice slightly softer than usual.
I park outside the restaurant and she lets me hold her hand as we walk in. Her palm is soft and her thumb strokes along my knuckles like she can't bear for even her hand to be still for a single moment.
Although my social skills leave something to be desired, Harper doesn't seem to mind at all. Throughout dinner, she is happy to do most of the talking. It is so easy to get lost in watching her speak; she's like the sun, radiant and eye-catching.
I pay the bill and we head down the street toward the cinema.
This is when things start to go downhill slightly. She starts worrying her bottom lip again and as soon as we sit down in the back row, she's fidgeting and moving about.
It doesn't take me long to realize exactly why this was a bad idea; she hates to sit still. And I should have known that, because she practically told me yesterday when she said sitting through lectures is hell for her.
I'm about to suggest we leave and do something more active—which is what I would prefer as well—but the movie starts and I can see Harper make a conscious effort to sit and watch it.
This lasts about fifteen minutes.
"I'm going to go to the bathroom," she whispers to me and ducks out. Ten minutes go past while I'm hardly watching the movie at all, and then I go in search of her.
It doesn't take me long to find her—I could search her out anywhere.
She is standing in the carpeted hallway of the movie theater, outside the bathrooms, speaking to a man.
He says something and she laughs like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard, putting her hand on his arm.
Who the fuck is he?
An unprecedented surge of jealousy makes my jaw clench. I stride over and, the moment I'm within reach, slide my arm around Harper's waist as though she's mine.
"North!" She says with a big smile. "Sorry, I was just heading back and I ran into a friend from Yale. This is Marcus."
Marcus, a tall, icy-blonde man wearing a cotton button-down, holds out his hand to me. "Nice to meet you," he says amicably.
I grip his hand tighter than necessary and give it a quick shake. His mouth twists in a grimace.
"We should go," I say to Harper, my voice tense. She glances up at me with furrowed brows and nods.
"Sure. See you on Monday, Marcus," she says as I all but drag her away.
In my brain, logically, I know I'm being unreasonable. But I have never felt so...possessive of another person before in my life. The thought of her finding another man attractive, or flirting with him, makes me sick to my stomach.
"I'm–I'm sorry about leaving the movie cinema for so long," she says in a small voice. "I just got distracted...I do that a lot."
Immediately, I come to a stop, right outside the entrance to our cinema. I don't ever want her to feel bad, especially not because of me.
"It's alright," I assure her and let out a sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "The movie was a bad idea. Let's go do something else."
She hesitates. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. That movie was fucking shit anyway."
She leans her head back and laughs, just like she did when she was talking to Marcus, and I realize that this full body humor is just how she is. I adore it, the way her face glows and her eyes sparkle.
"Let's go!" She agrees.
I take her to a pop-up art exhibition that's in town for only one more night. There are only a few other patrons milling around, so we mostly have the place to ourselves. It's an immersive exhibition, where we walk into darkened rooms covered in glowing stars or bright, flickering lights. There are projected paintings and old movies on the walls and even a pit filled with soft balls that Harper dives into.
I lose sight of her for a moment, lost amongst the colorful, foam balls, and my heart thrums like it might give out. But then she emerges, laughing joyously, a bright light in the otherwise dim room.
I reach in and pull her out, taking her into my arms and at that moment, from the ceiling, fake snow begins to flurry out.
It lands in her eyes and on her cheeks and eyelashes—all over me as well, but I scarcely notice.
Holding her body against mine, I brush some flakes out of her eyes.
"I really want to kiss you," she blurts out and then her cheeks flush in embarrassment. "Sorry," she whispers but her words have lit a fire within me.
"You never have to apologize for wanting that," I murmur, leaning down till our foreheads press together.
She clings to my shoulders, standing on her tip-toes to reach me.
Our lips touch and I groan at the pure ecstasy that rockets through me, immediately deepening the kiss and pushing my tongue into her mouth.
Her hands go to my hair, threading through the shaggy curls and gripping them tightly. It takes only a moment for the kiss to turn desperate.
I knew touching my mate would be unlike anything I'd felt before—it's all I heard growing up—but this is something else entirely. Who could have warned me that it would be this magnetic, this consuming?
Gripping her tightly, I lift her and press her against the wall of the room we're in, all but devouring her mouth.
Her legs wrap around my waist and without hesitation, I press my erection into her. The hem of her dress has ridden up and all that separates us is my boxers, pants and the thin scrap of underwear she wears.
Finally, our lips break apart and I latch onto her neck, sucking the sensitive skin there while she writhes in my arms.
Leaning her more steadily against the wall, I take one hand and trail it down her body, over her breast and then between her legs. I press my fingers against the dampness of her silky underwear.
"North," she gasps and it is music to my ears. There is no sweeter sound in the world than her halting breaths and gentle moans as I push aside the fabric of her underwear and ease a finger into her. She's hot and wet and tight and perfect. Her back arches and blonde hair sticks to her cheeks.
I sink my finger deeper and she moans louder.
The sound of voices and footsteps makes us both freeze. I quickly remove my hand and lower her to her feet, helping her pull her dress down as a group of people pass through the room.
They glance at us—and surely it is obvious what we were doing, with our flushed cheeks and sweaty skin—but they keep moving without comment.
Harper laughs, burying her face in my chest. Although arousal is still thrumming through me, I take the moment to just hold her close, stroke down her errant hair and kiss her temple.
"We should get out of here," she chuckles and I nod.
The drive back to Yale College is fraught with tension. My hand rests on her leg, my fingers stroking smooth skin. It takes everything in me not to move my hand higher and re-ignite whatever happened at the art exhibit, but I don't want to push her or for things to move too fast.
"The movie was a bad idea," I say as I turn the steering wheel. "I'm sorry, I should have planned something different–"
"No, no it's fine. Really. I'm just..." She looks down at her lap, half of her cast in shadows and the other half illuminated by the passing street lamps. "I don't know why I can't sit still. I've always been like this, ever since I was little. My teachers would get so frustrated with me and my father..." She stops and clears her throat, forcing a smile. "Anyway, I had a good time."
I want to tell her that she can speak to me, that she never needs to hide, but I don't have the words. I'm always shit at expressing how I feel.
"I had a good time as well," I say instead and squeeze her leg. She wraps her hands around my forearm and rests her head against my shoulder.
I ease off the accelerator, slowing down to prolong this drive, this moment, this night with her.
Once she finds out the truth about me, everything will change.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you so much for reading. Could you please vote or leave a comment? It helps to boost this story and helps other readers find it. Again, thank you so much.