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“Yeah, well it looks like the morning after The Hangover in here,” he quipped. “Or someone threw a grenade through your window. Or maybe you hosted the Running of the Bulls this year.”
“No parties. No bulls,” said Harper. “I’ve been… working.”
Preston’s eyes crawled over the equipment more shrewdly than ours. I could tell he knew exactly what he was looking at.
“Harper, if you need help—”
“I’m not asking for help, either,” she interjected. “Not right now. I’m this close to a breakthrough.” She held up her thumb and forefinger, barely touching. “This close to figuring out the final pieces of this puzzle.”
Preston smiled, nodding slowly. “Your eureka moment.”
“Yes.”
“So then what’s the problem?” I asked, folding my arms.
She stood in the middle of the room now, in the middle of the mess. Her eyes shifted methodically from me, to Jax, then to Preston, all in the span of three or four seconds.
“The problem is you.”
A measure of silence followed, broken only by the wind howling outside. Everyone looked confused.
“Me?” Jax asked gruffly.
“All of you,” declared Harper. “The three of you are keeping me from finishing… this.”
She gestured around the room with extended arms. The motion was a little frantic.
“Is someone not leaving you alone?” I asked, throwing suspicious glances at the others. “Because we all agreed on giving you—”
“I know what you agreed on,” Harper cut me off. “You agreed on giving me space. And you have been. The only problem is, I didn’t agree upon it. Shit, I wasn’t even asked.”
She stomped over, stepping delicately around every single piece of equipment like she’d memorized its position on the floor. Her blue eyes wide, and full of fire. It both frightened me and turned me on at the same time.
“Since the three of you asked me to make a choice, I’ve been totally useless,” said Harper. “I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t focus. Worst of all, I can’t work.”
I searched the others’ expressions for help. Preston appeared as confused as I was. When I looked to Jax however, I saw his eyes narrow.
“What do you mean you can’t—”
“I can’t do anything!” Harper shouted, her arms still in the air. “All I can think about is losing one or more of you, after having just gotten you back in my life again. I keep going back to having to choose, and making the wrong choice terrifies me.”
She was so animated she actually shook when she moved, her feminine parts bouncing mouthwateringly in her tight half-shirt and loose-fitting sweatpants. But Harper wasn’t putting on a show. She was genuinely upset.
“So you know what?” she went on, just as one of us was about to say something. “Fuck choosing. I’m not choosing at all.”
Preston looked utterly miserable now. Like he wanted to scoop her into his arms and console her, but totally knew better.
“So you’re choosing nobody, then?” Jax asked, a little angry. “Is that it?”
Harper rolled her eyes in frustration. Her hands went to her hips.
“You’d rather be all alone,” Jax went on snidely, “than to have to—”
“No.”
I spoke the word loudly enough that everyone turned to face me at once. Even Harper.
“What she means is, she’s not choosing at all.”
