Looks like the virgin queen isn't as pure as she pretended to be. Who's your daddy, H? Baby daddy that is. Two guys in one night, talk about doing the nasty. Or should I just say being nasty.
++++++
"Do you understand the significance of turning 18?" My dad asks, solemn as always.
"I can do whatever the hell I want?"
He frowns, annoyance etched in his features.
"I can't hold your hand anymore, Holden. It's time to be an adult."
I almost groan aloud at where this conversation is going. I roll my eyes, wanting to stand up from where I sit across from my father at the kitchen table and leave.
"I'm not going to snap my fingers and get you out of trouble anymore, so stay out of trouble. And be responsible with your money. You're going to be handling it on your own now," he continues.
You're turning 18 tommorow, son! You're almost a man! I'm proud of you!
No, none of that of course.
"Alright," I say.
"And--"
"I said alright, dad. I got it," I say more sternly, annoyance in my voice. He scowls at me but says nothing.
His phone rings and he answers it, standing up from the table and walking out on the balcony, leaving me alone.
I stand at the sound of two swift knocks at the door and open it quickly.
"John!" I greet with a wide smile. "Come in."
I step aside and allow the man into my home, locking the door behind him.
He follows me to the kitchen table and we take our seats across from each other. John puts on a pair of reading glasses and places a folder on the table in front of him, opening it to the first page.
"So how much is the inheritance?" I ask, getting right down to business. I've speculated, added some numbers, and asked my father, but even he wasn't sure what the amount was.
"12 million."
I almost fall out of my chair. If I was drinking water I'd spit it out--no, I'd choke on it.
My eyebrows raise and a grin spreads across my face involuntarily.
12 million dollars?
Thanks mom.
"Don't look so excited," my lawyer says firmly, his eyes roaming over the paperwork in front of him. "It's set up in a trust fund. You'll get $500,000 a year starting on your birthday tommorow, until you're 21, then you'll be allowed to access the full remaining amount."
"What?" I ask, exasperated. He can't be serious. "Do you understand how much 12 million would help with this project?"
"Listen, I didn't write the will, son."
I groan loudly and put my head in my hands, running my fingers through my hair and interlocking them around the back of my neck.
"Your mother was a smart woman," John continues. "And nobody smart is going to hand a kid 12 million dollars on their 18th birthday."
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.
"I'll be doing fundraisers until I'm 40," I say hopelessly, staring down at the table.
"Take it easy, Frasier; don't stress yourself out. Rome wasnt built in a day. These things take time."
Time and money. Two things I ironically don't have.
++++++
"Why do you look so grumpy?" Harper pouts, sitting on my couch and pulling her knees to her chest. I let my eyes rest on her bare legs for a second before they flutter back up to her face.
Grumpy?
I narrow my eyes at her word choice and her pouted bottom lip.
"You look like a 5 year old when you do that," I tease. Her eyes narrow also, but I see the corners of her lips twitch upward.
She looks 5 whenever she pouts. I don't think she realizes she does it as much as she does, but it's actually adorable. Her brown doe eyes and the freckles she sported back in August when I met her (that have since disappeared) also made her look like a little kid.
"Seriously," she says, shifting. "It's your birthday, why are you upset?"
I exhale in annoyance. She always knows when there's something wrong. Maybe I show it on my face.
But not only does she notice, she addresses. She almost always points out when I'm upset and wants to talk about it. I can tell she holds her tongue sometimes because I've snapped at her about it once or twice. Regretfully. It's so upsetting to see her upset. Even more so when it's my fault.
There's something new and unnerving about being around someone that wants to not just acknowledge but actually talk about what's bothering me. Charlotte's like that too.
"I don't know," I sigh, debating whether or not I should tell her. Not only am I not 100% comfortable talking about my feelings with her--not that she isn't easy to talk to--but I don't want to sound like a whiny bitch.
I mean, how can I complain to someone struggling to pay for college that I'm about to inherit only half a million dollars.
"I'm just thinking about the party. I hope there's enough alcohol," I lie and Harper rolls her eyes.
I had to explain to her that I was having the party at Jake's instead of here at the hotel because of the trouble it would cause my dad if anyone found out there was under age drinking at a party downstairs.
I sigh and flop down on the couch beside her. She bounces a little when I do so. I close my eyes and let my head rest against the back of the couch behind me. I can still feel her eyes on me.
"I don't feel any different," I say honestly after a minute of comfortable silence. "Any older. I thought turning 18 was supposed to be cool as shit. What a fucking let down." I mumble.
"Maybe it's because you had so much freedom before you even turned 18," she says.
Maybe.
"What's something you've always wanted to do that your dad wouldn't let you?" Harper asks.
"Smoke weed."
My eyes are still closed but I can just feel her roll her eyes; I can't help but smirk a little.
"Something you've always wanted to do that your dad wouldn't let you, and you didn't do anyway?" She rephrases.
I think for a second.
"Get a tattoo."
"A tattoo?" She questions in surprise. "Private schooled, sheltered, flawless - skinned Holden Frasier wants a tattoo?" She gasps dramatically.
I laugh. "Flawless-skinned?"
"I ran out of adjectives. And you have nice skin," she says and pinches my left cheek gently.
"So let's go get you tattooed," she says excitedly after a few seconds of silence.
I open my eyes and sit up, turning a little to face her. She shifts also and our knees touch.
"My dad will have a conniption," I state simply. He really, truly would.
Harper smiles. "You're 18. You do what you want."
++++++
"Nervous?"
I lick my lips as I tear my eyes away from the tattoo artist adjusting the equipment, to Harper, who stands in front of me with a small smirk.
I shift in the leather chair.
"No."
She cocks her head to the side and looks away, stifling a laugh and obviously not believing me.
I'm not nervous about the tattoo itself, but I guess I'm nervous it'll hurt more than I expect and I'll end up flinching and looking like a pussy in front of her.
"Have you decided yet?" The tattoo artist asks and I nod. He has tattoos covering both his arms, some colored and some plain black.
"Yeah," I say, pointing out a font in the book, and then scribbling the French proverb onto the given piece of paper before handing it to him.
I've been wanting a tattoo for a while, but I didn't decide on what to get or where to get it until literally 3 minutes ago.
"Alright," the guy says pulling a stool up close to me and sitting down.
I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. Harper blushes slightly and quickly switches her gaze to the floor when I catch her staring.
The buzz of the tattoo needle sounds and I grit my teeth from the sting against the top left side of my chest.
"Does it hurt?" Harper asks, grimacing as if she's the one in pain.
"No," I lie with a scoff, shaking my head.
"You getting one too, miss?" The guy asks without looking up. I look up at Harper and raise my eyebrows.
"No," she shakes her head. "No way."
"Come on," I whine. "Where's Wild Harper today?"
Harper purses her lips and narrows her eyes at me. "Tucked away. I'm Holy Harper today," she smiles and I laugh, trying not to move too much.
30 minutes later, the phrase, "À cœur vaillant rien d'impossible" is tattooed in cursive across the top left side of my chest in black ink, and it still hurts.
"There you go," the guy says standing up. "I'm going to bandage it up; you can take it off in about 4 hours. I'll give you a few handouts on how to take care of it the next few days."
"Cool, thanks, man," I nod and the guy walks off to get the supplies.
"It looks nice," Harper says as she moves to sit on the stool that's still beside me. She touches it gently and I tense from the slight pain. "Sorry," she rushes out, yanking her hand back and letting it fall in her lap.
"It's okay," I smile at her. "Thanks for this."
She shrugs. "It was your idea."
"You inspired it."
She shrugs again. The tattoo artist returns and she stands so he can sit back in his seat.
"So what's it mean?" Harper asks, her eyes scanning over the words as the man wipes it off again.
"To a valient heart nothing impossible," I say as he holds a cloth to my chest and then begins tapping it down.
Harper nods slowly with slightly squinted eyes.
"My mom came from France when she was 14," I explain.
Harper raises her eyebrows. "That's why you're so good at French!"
I chuckle at her response. She's in my French 4 class and she's constantly copying off my papers.
"Yeah," I say. "She started teaching me at the same time she taught me English. She always used to say, "Impossible n'est pas Français." Impossible isn't French."
My mom taught me that you can have anything if you want it bad enough--if you try hard enough.
Harper smiles. "That's nice. She sounds nice."
I nod. As I stand up and thank the tattoo artist again. "She was."
"I bet she'd be proud of you."
The statement catches me off guard and I look over at her as we walk out onto the busy streets. She looks sincere.
I furrow my eyebrows and think about it silently as we keep walking.
++++++
The party's going well. I expected something small, but of course people bring people. It doesn't matter much to me, though; the more the merrier.
I laugh loudly at a story Austin tells from when we went to lacrosse camp a few years ago.
"Holden!" I hear Jake shout from the kitchen. "Get your ass in here, it's time for shots!"
I make my way into the kitchen, others doing the same.
I furrow my eyebrows when the kitchen lights are flicked off and the music quiets, until the sound of Future is replaced by a chorus of Happy Birthdays.
A vanilla cake with Happy 18th Birthday in red piping sits on the counter and I smile at Lydia who starts lighting the two 1 8 candles. I wasn't sure she'd show up after the New Years incident, but I was hoping she would.
Jake dabs and hits the folks a few times and I laugh.
"Happy Birthday, bro," he ruffles my hair.
I blow out the candles quickly, not actually wishing for anything, then use one hand to fix my hair and let the other snake around Harper's waist.
"But we're still doing shots right?" I ask, genuinely wondering and hoping.
Laughter erupts around me and Jake grabs a vodka bottle and puts some shot glasses on the island.
3 shots later I'm talking to Austin in the living room again, while eyeing Harper who's fluffing her hair in a hallway mirror.
"You girlfriend is cute," he smirks taking a sip of beer. "Though I distinctly remember you saying repeatedly that you "can't be tied down.""
"I can't," I say. "She's not my girlfriend."
"Could've fooled me. I haven't seen you with any other girl all night; it's not like you. Well, you did talk to Lydia, but she doesn't count. Speaking of Lydia, I think I'm gonna try to hit tonight since she's done with Jake."
"She's not going to let you hit," I shake my head, thinking about what he said before that.
"We'll see," Austin says, handing me his beer and walking off to where Lydia stands across the room, tapping away on her phone.
I finish his beer and set my sights on a brunette sitting on a nearby chair talking a picture of herself. Nathalie, I think her name is.
++++++
I twist my finger around the ends of Nathalie's hair. It's wavy and dark enough to pass for black. Maybe it is black, I don't know. Not as light or curly as Harper's. Not as soft. And it smells like strawberry shampoo instead of mangoes.
Harper had disappeared sometime between when I had started dancing with Nathalie and when I pulled her onto my lap as I conversed with Austin, who had of course been turned down, and Elijah about my new tattoo.
I set my beer down and push Nathalie off my lap. Whatever look she gives me I miss it as I walk out of the living room without so much as a glance in her direction.
The bathroom door is closed, of course. I walk further down the hall to use the one in Jake's room; I know his house as well as I know my own.
The sound of G-Eazy fades behind me as I reach the end if the hall. A sigh sounds from the other side of the slightly cracked door and I roll my eyes, not feeling like taking the hike to the upstairs bathroom to avoid walking in on whoevers fucking on Jake's bed.
I mean, at least lock the door. Jesus.
I push the door open a little wider, curiousity getting the best of me.
I almost roll my eyes when I peek in and see Tyler hovered over some girl sitting on Jake's desk, his lips on her neck, but stop when I see the girl is Harper.
I blink a few times, then clench my fists tightly.
I'm going to kill him. No, both of them.
I feel like I've been slapped in the face. Twice.
God, I'm such a dumbass.
I fight the urge to burst through the door in rage, not sure what's I'd say when they'd turn to look at me. Also not wanting to explain why it even bothers me so much.
It shouldn't. I shouldn't even care.
But when Tyler's hands begin fumbling with his belt, I can't watch anymore, so I stomp back to the party to finish my drink.
++++++
The sound of Tyler's belt buckle coming undone is enough to snap Harper out of the lustful trance she was under.
Her eyes open and she hurriedly places her hands on top of Tyler's, stopping his movements.
"Wait," she says quietly.
"What's wrong?" Tyler asks with concern, though inside he's bursting with annoyance.
After finding out about Holden and Harper's pact on Thanksgiving, he figured the best way to ruin it was if Harper was no longer a virgin. The deal would be off and Holden would be crushed. The sex was an added bonus.
"I can't," Harper says shifting uncomfortably. "I'm not ready, I'm sorry."
Tyler rattles off a string of curse words in his head, but takes a step back with a light smile.
"Don't be sorry. It's alright," he assures. "Do you wanna head back?"
"You go," Harper says. "I'll be out in a minute."
Tyler nods, and she readjusts herself as she watches him leave the room.
Holden spots Tyler coming down the hallway and quickly pushes through the crowd of dancing teenagers.
Tyler furrows his eyebrows, startled as Holden puts his hands on his chest and pushes, forcing him to take a few steps backwards so no one can witness the scene.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Holden spits, lowly enough for no one else to hear. Tyler remains quiet, face still contorted in confusion. The stupid look on his face makes Holden angrier. "You need to leave. Go back to fucking Connecticut and stop fucking around with my life. Stop trying to take everything from me. Stop trying to take her from me."
Tyler's lips curl into a smirk as he realizes the source of Holden's frustration. He must've seen the two of them before Harper (annoyingly) rejected him.
"Oh, did you catch the show? Yikes," Tyler says with a jeering expression. "Sorry man I guess she saw you with that girl and just got tired of dealing with your back and forth shit."
Holden's jaw clenches along with his fist as he struggles to control his anger.
"You didn't watch the whole thing, did you? That's kind of fucking weird," Tyler continues to provoke.
Holden angrily walks past Tyler, purposely hitting his shoulder with much force.
+++++
Angrily I burst into Jake's room, slamming the door behind me.
Startled, Harper steps back from the mirror where she had been reapplying her lipstick. Setting down the small black tube she looks at me, bewildered.
"You are such a bitch!" I shout angrily.
She raises her eyebrows and takes a step towards me, folding her arms.
"Excuse me?"
I approach her angrily. "You fucked Tyler!"
Her eyes widen and I shake my head.
"Fuck you. Fuck this dumb ass deal, I can't believe believe I expected you to stay a virgin for 6 months anyway," I rage blindly as I turn around and take a few steps away from her.
She scoffs.
"That's really all you care about?" She asks loudly with a dry laugh. "Fuck helping me, right? I don't even matter, right? You really only care about sex. I can't believe I ever thought differently."
"Oh my God you're so fucking stupid," I say loudly, furious.
"Oh, now I'm stupid?" She yells, getting in my face.
"Yes!" I shout exasperated, dramatically throwing my hands into the air. "Yes, you're an idiot! You fucking know I like you, Harper! Do I really have to spell it out for you?"
"No," she shakes her head defiantly. "No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to say it now."
I run my fingers through my hair exasperated and angry.
"I like you. A lot," I repeat anyway, bringing my voice down to normal. "I like your hair and your laugh and how you're good at everything, even though it's kind of annoying. And I like your smile and that dress you're wearing right now--you look really nice in red in case I never told you--and I like that you're so nice and you're smart and forgiving even though you probably shouldn't be," I breathe. "And I like your freckles even though they're gone now and I like that you're so passionate about everything and everything else about you I just really like."
She still looks angry, her face scrunched up and her lip pouted in a really cute way.
I feel like a loser--like a guy that's never even spoken to a girl. But I had to confess sooner or later, not just to her but to myself.
"I don't care about having sex with you. I'm sorry I made that deal with you, and it sounds corny as fuck but I feel like a different person than I was in September," I admit.
A different person. How full of shit can can I be? I just called her a fucking idiot.
I'm a fucking idiot.
"I mean I didn't turn into Mother Teresa, but I wouldn't do something like that now. Not since I've known you."
It's silent for a few seconds and I gather the courage to look her in the eye.
She's still pouting.
She sits down on Jake's bed, arms still folded. "That was pretty corny," she sighs.
I lick my lips, a terrible feeling settling over me. I should've never--
"But I'm really glad you said it."
I exhale in relief and sit beside her.
"I want to be with you."
She turns and looks at me in a way I wish I could understand. Her eyebrows are furrowed and she's chewing on her bottom lip.
"Just me?" She asks. The question hurts, I have to admit. Her brown eyes aren't shining like they do when she's happy, which is most of the time, and I feel terrible.
"Do you trust me?" I ask.
She nods softly and I take a deep breathe.
She licks her lips and turns slightly, looking at the wall that's decorated with a huge Green Bay Packers banner. I'll always hate Jake for liking them and not the Cowboys.
"I didn't have sex with Tyler," she says quietly breaking the silence. "I couldn't."
I almost sigh in relief. I don't actually care about her being a virgin. I did when when I met her, but back then it was more of a game than anything.
"Why'd you think that?" She asks.
"I saw you guys. Sort of. But he made it sound like you did when he came out."
"Oh," she breathes.
"He's an asshole," I say, trying trying to make her feel better.
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. The sad face she's wearing right now. This is exactly why I didn't tell her he was only messing with her to mess with me.
"You're not stupid," I say after a second, regretting calling her so. Especially since that's probably how she feels now.
"I know," she states simply.
"I don't think you're stupid," I say.
"I know," she repeats. "But I am if I keep forgiving you," she adds.
I inhale then exhale deeply, nervous that she'll say I'm too late.
"You don't have to if you don't feel like you should," I say softly, though it pains me to do so. I can't imagine being rejected. I can't think of the last time I have been in any situation.
"You can't be like this. I won't stand for it."
"I know."
++++++
Harper and Holden stare at each other for a second before meeting each other for a kiss that goes goes from passionate and sweet, to passionate and feverish in no no time at all.
Harper leans closer to Holden, who grips more tightly on her thigh, pulling one leg over his lap so she's straddling him.
Holden's hand goes to the back of her head, gently entangling in her hair.
He breaks apart from her lips and kisses along her jawline, causing Harper to sigh.
Harper rocks forward slightly and whimpers, and Holden just about loses his mind. She reaches behind her, pulling at the zipper on her dress, which starts to fall off her shoulders. If he wanted her right now, he could have her, and she wouldn't hesitate.
On the other side of the door, that had been closed, then cracked once the yelling quited down, the scene plays before Tyler. He records it with his phone, a new plan formulating in his head. If Holden thought he was getting the bigger portion of the company, he was wrong.
Holden stops Harper, placing his hand on hers which is still pulling at her zipper. He doesn't want to do it, but he does.
Harper looks at him, dazed and confused.
Holden sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "We can't."
She's not ready. She just said so 3 minutes ago.
Tyler rolls his eyes and stops recording. The video he got was scandalous enough to do the job, anyway.
Harper exhales deeply but comes to her senses and nods.
Holden kisses her again, sweetly, and she smiles, sliding off of him and standing up.
Holden looks at Jake's alarm clock on his dresser.
12:01.
He smiles at Harper. "I spoke too soon, earlier. 18 feels pretty fucking good."
++++++
Don't hate me I'm sorry I'm trying. Don't hate Holden either he's sorry he's trying.
I hope this wasn't disappointing it took a while bc I'm extra busy with practice thought I haven't been doing much practicing bc I'm injured right now but anyway I didn't want to just throw together something in a day you know.
Yall are going to hate me for what comes next l o l
Also don't forget to ask me questions in the chapter labeled Q&A!
Vote comment follow etc etc bye thanks