Chapter 19: Who’s She?
Neither of us moved. Students walked past us, laughing on their way to class, completely unaware that my world had just tilted sideways and was still trying to find its footing.
Justin was the first to speak. "Harper." His voice was careful now, stripped of the usual confidence. "It doesn’t look like what you think."
I looked down at the hockey cap still clutched in my hands. "I actually came to return this."
He frowned before his eyes dropped to it. "My cap."
I nodded. "Noah forgot to give it back. He genuinely refused to take it off the entire drive home, so."
For the first time that morning, the corner of his mouth lifted. "I wondered where that disappeared to."
"He wore it to bed, I think."
A small laugh escaped him. "Sounds exactly like Noah." I held the cap out. He took it slowly, turning it over once in his hands like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
"My mom came out of surgery." The words came out quieter than I intended, landing between us like something fragile.
His smile disappeared immediately, replaced by genuine relief that he didn’t try to hide. "She did?"
"The doctors said everything went well."
"Harper." He let out a quiet breath. "That’s amazing. I’m really glad."
"Yeah. Me too."
Silence settled between us again, heavier than the first one. I shifted my bag higher onto my shoulder. "I just thought you should know. Since you were there for most of it."
He nodded slowly. "I’m really glad she’s okay."
"So am I."
Another silence. I cleared my throat. "I should go." I turned.
"Harper."
I stopped but didn’t look back.
"It really isn’t what it looked like."
I closed my eyes briefly. "I don’t even know what I’m supposed to think anymore, Justin. That’s the honest truth."
He stepped closer. "Then let me explain."
"No."
"Please."
"I said no." I turned to face him again. "If we’re going to keep doing this, if we’re going to keep pretending we’re together..." My voice shook despite how hard I tried to steady it. "Then don’t embarrass me. That’s all I’m asking."
Confusion crossed his face. "What?"
"I’ve had enough embarrassment for one lifetime. I survived two years with Ethan." I laughed, but there was absolutely nothing funny in it. "I don’t need my fake boyfriend becoming another version of him."
"I’m nothing like Ethan."
"How do I know that?"
"Because you know me."
"Do I?" His expression faltered, something flickering behind his eyes that he quickly pushed back down. "Yesterday you snapped at me for no reason. This morning I find another girl practically hanging off you in the parking lot." My throat tightened. "Is that why you were acting so weird yesterday? Was it because of her?"
His answer came instantly, no hesitation at all. "No. It wasn’t because of her. It had nothing to do with her."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I’m telling you the truth."
I let out a humorless laugh. "That’s funny."
"Why?"
"Because every single liar says exactly that, Justin. Word for word."
The words hit him harder than I’d intended. He looked genuinely hurt, and the worst part was that I noticed, and I hated that I noticed, and I couldn’t stop noticing.
"And another thing." He frowned, waiting. "I got cornered in the girls’ bathroom last week."
His expression shifted immediately, jaw tightening. "What?"
"One of your girls."
"My girls?"
"Oh, don’t do that." I shook my head. "You’ve been with so many people on this campus that you don’t even know which one decided to come after me. That’s the problem."
His face hardened. "Someone threatened you?"
"It doesn’t matter."
"It matters to me."
"No." I shook my head again, firmly this time. "It stopped being your problem the moment you just stood there and let her put her hands all over you without saying a single word."
Several students walking past slowed down. Justin noticed immediately. "Harper." His voice dropped low. "Keep your voice down."
I stared at him. "You really think that’s what I should be worried about right now?"
A few more heads turned our way. For once in my life, I genuinely did not care.
"I don’t give a damn who hears me. I am tired, Justin. I’m tired of looking stupid. I’m tired of trusting people and being completely wrong about them every single time. I’m tired of believing men when they look me in the eyes and tell me they’re different."
"I am different."
His voice was quiet. Steady. Certain in a way that almost made me believe him. Almost.
I looked straight into his eyes. "I thought Ethan was different too."
The words landed between us like something breaking that couldn’t be unbroken.
For the first time since I’d met Justin Hayes, he had absolutely nothing to say. Neither did I.
I took a slow step backward. "I’ll keep my side of the contract. Don’t worry about that."
His brows drew together. "What?"
"I need this documentary. I need to graduate. So I’ll keep showing up, I’ll keep pretending, I’ll do everything the contract says." I forced a smile that felt nothing like one. "You’ll get what you paid for."
I turned before he could stop me. "Harper." I kept walking. "Harper, please."
If I stopped, if I let him explain, I was terrified I’d believe every word out of his mouth. And I genuinely could not survive being wrong again. Not after everything.
By the time I reached the journalism building, my vision had blurred. I wiped angrily at my eyes before anyone walking past could notice, straightening up and pulling the door open like I hadn’t just left pieces of myself scattered across a parking lot.
I should have known better. Justin Hayes, the campus playboy. What on earth had made me think for even a second that I would be any different from every other girl who had stood exactly where I was standing?
Maybe I should just end the whole arrangement. Walk away from the contract entirely and figure something else out.
But then there was the documentary. The contract. Graduation. Mom.
I let out a long, shaky breath. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"
I pushed open the classroom door and disappeared inside.
Behind me, Justin remained exactly where I’d left him. Still standing beside his truck. Still holding his hockey cap.
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