AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I got rid of your clothes,” Harper says matter-of-factly.
“You what!”
Her eyes looked me up and down. “You’ve had that same pair of yoga pants since high school, Pops.”
The first stage of a Harp-a-thon is her calling me by my nickname, Pops. She thinks it makes her sound more caring.
Shrugging, I reply, “So. They still fit.”As I said, Yoga pants are loyal bitches. Jeans are not.
She grabs my shoulders, “Yoga pants always fit. That’s the point.”
Gosh, can she read my mind?
“I left you one chore to do, Harper. One chore.” I hold up my finger.
She mocks me by holding up her middle finger.
Sometimes, it’s like arguing with a child.
My clothes were the last thing Harper and I had to pack. I had taken care of everything else.
She holds up her hands in a plea, “I know, and I did an amazing job cleaning it all up. Thank you, that is all you have to say,” she replies simply.
“Harper!”
“Just say thank you,” she insists and bats her eyelashes.
“No!” I stomp my foot.
She looks at my shirt. “You can’t wear clothes five sizes too big, Pops. It’s a sin. That shirt has a stain on it from when you dropped a burger on it four months ago. Four months. Gross. I basically saved you from a lifetime of fashion hell.” She stresses.
The Harp-a-thon continues. This is the longest elevator ride of my life. Seriously, we are going down two floors! Open up already.
“God consented. It's a sin to sin, Poppy. I've led you into fashion heaven. Saved you from hell." She draws a halo over her head and flaps her hands.
“What are you doing?” I ask, watching her continue to flap like a duck.
“These are my wings. I’m your angel. Don’t you see? Halo and wings.” She flaps harder.
I slap my hand to my forehead in disbelief. “Oh my god!” I exclaim. “I start work in just one week, Harper. I don’t have time to order new clothes. And for God’s sake, stop flapping your hands. It’s bad enough I can’t walk outside without your cringe-worthy pick-up lines. Don’t make the elevator a bad PTSD for me, too.”
“Oh please, you’ll thank me later. After an orgasm or two... or three.”
“Harper!”
“OK, but listen. I know you start work. That’s why I got all your clothes for you. Planning ahead, baby. Take notes. You’re about to be the personal assistant to some big CEO. It’s smart to plan ahead and kiss ass. I just taught you a valuable lesson,” Harper reveals, then blows me an air kiss.
I tug on my shirt. It is way too big, and yes, it has a stain, but hey, I’m moving, and I’ll be dirty today anyway. I planned to unpack boxes, not walk the runways of Vogue and flirting with hot Texans.
I want to change, but I want baby steps. Harper has no idea about the panic attacks.
Inhale, now, exhale.
I trust her style. I can find something safe to wear. I pray.
The elevator dings, and the doors open, revealing the hallway to my new apartment. “This discussion isn’t over, Harps,” I warn her, still in shock. Thank God I packed the rest myself. I’m sure there is a backup outfit somewhere.
“It will be when you see the clothes,” she teases, playfully slapping my ass. “You’ll thank me. No more hiding, right? You said this move was about change. Well, push comes to shove, and I helped you literally change into new clothes. I also stocked you with some sexy bras and panties. Seriously, who wears light pink cotton panties in their twenties?” Harper giggles. “You’re so lucky to have me. Cotton isn’t sexy bring-me-home-panty material. Leather and lace are.”
