I didn't know what I was expecting when I texted Harper my address earlier that morning. I think I just wanted to see her smile again — up close, uninterrupted, without the distraction of work or Loe or Rae's booming laughter filling the space between us. A selfish part of me wanted the version of her I only ever got in pieces: quiet, unguarded, and mine.
When the knock came at exactly 6:03 PM, I wasn't ready — not emotionally, not spiritually, and certainly not physically, still barefoot with lip balm instead of lipstick. I swung the door open, trying to fake ease, and there she was. In gray sweatpants, a black tee, and that soft denim jacket she always wore when she wanted to look casual but feel held together.
"You always open the door looking like that?" she teased, stepping in before I could respond. Her perfume, something soft and citrusy, brushed past me like a secret.
"I was just—waiting," I said, shutting the door behind her. "Make yourself at home."
She kicked her sneakers off and grinned. "I plan to."
We started with a movie — something Rae had recommended, some surreal coming-of-age drama that neither of us could follow after ten minutes. We ended up muting it, talking through the quiet scenes like we'd found something better in our own unscripted dialogue.
She laughed at the way Dani had tried to prank Tasha last week, I told her about the guy at the market who kept trying to sell me "spiritual mangoes," and then she told me about Loe's obsession with conspiracy theories, how he once tried to convince Rae the moon landing was filmed in a garage.
"Do you believe him?" I asked.
Harper scoffed. "Absolutely not. But I like that he's weird. It makes him easier to tease."
The moment lingered.
I didn't know what to do with the fact that she spoke about him so casually, so unburdened. That I was the one sitting across from her now, not Loe. That this night wasn't his.
Around 9 PM, she excused herself for a bath. I offered her a fresh towel and a pair of oversized socks — the kind you wear when you want to forget the world exists outside your living room. She took them with a small smile and disappeared into the bathroom.
I stayed behind, half-watching the screen, half-aware of the sound of water running behind the wall. My mind was spinning, looping her laughter from earlier like a song stuck in my chest.
I didn't expect to fall asleep.
But sometime between my head meeting the throw pillow and my heart trying to calm down, my eyes fluttered closed.
When I woke up, the room was dim. The only light came from the hallway, a golden hue bleeding into the living space. I blinked, disoriented, my body heavy with half-sleep. And then—
Her.
Harper was beside me.
I didn't hear her come in.
I didn't even know if I was dreaming at first.
She was warm, and her skin smelled of lavender and something faintly minty. Her arm wrapped around me in a way that wasn't just platonic — it was too still, too deliberate. I felt her breath before I felt her hand.
And then—
Her hand slid under my shirt. Over my ribs. Higher.
I froze.
Not because I didn't want it. But because I didn't believe it.
Her palm pressed over my left breast gently, her thumb barely grazing. I didn't move. Couldn't. The air between us buzzed like static.
And then she kissed me.
No warning. No question.
Her lips were soft but sure, coaxing, pulling me under. My body moved before my mind could catch up, responding in desperate sync. The kiss deepened, her tongue teasing mine, her hands exploring like she already knew the map of me. Like I'd always belonged beneath her touch.
I moaned — barely, but loud enough to feel embarrassed by the honesty of it. She didn't flinch. Didn't stop.
The heat between us rose like a tide, threatening to drown logic, to wash away every boundary we'd carefully tiptoed around for months.
When we finally broke apart, gasping, foreheads pressed, I didn't open my eyes. I was too scared the moment would shatter if I did.
She whispered, "Have you… done this before? With a girl?"
My heart thudded.
I lied.
"No."
The truth tasted bitter behind my teeth — freshman year, dorm room, a girl named Amie with a mouth full of vodka and hands that didn't know how to be kind. I never talked about it. Not because of what we did, but because of how I'd felt afterward. Small. Bruised. Unseen.
I swallowed. "What about you?"
Harper pulled back a little, enough for me to see the flicker in her eyes.
"Once," she said. "At a party. I was drunk. It didn't really mean anything."
A beat.
Then she exhaled. "I don't know why I just did that."
I didn't either.
But I knew I didn't want her to stop.
She looked at me again, something unreadable behind her gaze, and then leaned back into the pillow beside me. Her arm draped over my waist, her hand finding mine under the covers.
"Let's just… sleep," she said.
I nodded.
We lay there in silence. Her breath slowed first. Then mine.
And still, my mind screamed:
What just happened?
Did she feel what I felt?
Was this real?
Was I dreaming?
Why did she do it?
Did she finally see me?
Could this… be the beginning of something?
Or just the cruelest kind of accident?
Her body curled closer in her sleep, like a whisper against my back, and I closed my eyes.
I didn't sleep much that night.
The next morning was quiet.
Not tense. Not weird. Just… quiet.
Harper helped me make pancakes. I brewed coffee. We didn't say a single word about the kiss, the touching, the breathless electricity that passed between our mouths hours ago.
Instead, we pretended. Or maybe she did. I couldn't tell.
When Rae called, laughing through the speaker to say they'd switched plans and were already at the café instead of the beach, Harper grabbed her bag and gave me a look like, You ready?
I was not.
But I nodded anyway.
The café was a vibey, artsy space with high ceilings and moody lighting. Rae was already there in a tie-dye hoodie and pink sunglasses, sipping iced matcha and ranting about a guy who'd sent her an unsolicited playlist titled "songs that remind me of your aura."
Loe laughed beside her, tugging Rae's hoodie down playfully. "She's lying. She loved the playlist."
Rae shoved him.
I laughed. It felt foreign and forced. Like trying to stretch a muscle you forgot you had.
Harper slid into the seat next to me, her thigh brushing mine. Casual. Coincidental.
Except my entire body was still on fire from last night.
We ordered drinks. Rae made jokes. Loe debated something about film editing. And Harper?
Harper was perfectly normal.
Laughing. Teasing Rae. Asking about my week like nothing had happened.
She smiled at me once — the kind of smile that always made me feel safe. And I returned it.
Because I had to.
Because no one could know.
Because if this was a fantasy, then I was going to live in it for as long as I could.
I kept glancing at her lips without meaning to.
I kept replaying the kiss in my mind like a scene from a movie I wasn't sure I'd actually watched.
But Harper?
She kept the scene off-screen.
And no one noticed a thing.
Not Rae. Not Loe. Not even me, if I stared too hard at the illusion we'd built in daylight.
That night, when I got home, I sat in bed for a long time, phone in hand.
No messages from Harper.
No jokes. No "that was wild huh lol." No confessions. No regret.
Just silence.
I stared at the ceiling.
And wondered where this fire was supposed to go now that it had finally been lit.