Page 34 of One More Chance

Harper

The ceilingof my room is spinning a little, so I throw one foot over the edge of the bed and plant it on the floor to try to get it to stop. Maybe I had one too many moonshines. All the ladies left about an hour ago and I’ve been trying to sober up enough to use my phone ever since.

I hold it above my face and it’s like I have two phones. I try closing one eye and it helps enough to navigate to Steve’s messages.

Steve:How did it go?

Steve:Hope you had fun!

See. He’s nice. He’s a sweet guy. I attempt a reply, clicking and erasing and clicking more.

Me:It wass good time. Send me picc.

Close enough.

A text comes in from Jensen as I wait for Steve’s reply. Maybe it will be a shirtless photo. He looks like he could have an okay chest. I navigate to Jensen’s messages.

Jensen:You okay?

Me:I’m drunnk

Jensen:You need help?

I stick my tongue out, somehow believing that will help my texting capabilities.

Me:Imm ok juss trying too flirt. Send me pic

My hands slip, and the next thing I know, my phone flips sideways and falls right out of my hands, hitting me in the face. “Fuck.”

Relieved no one was around to see that, I re-adjust my phone, trying to hold it in an angle so it’s not directly above me. Noticing Steve replied, I navigate back to his messages and open the image. Steve has what we’ll call curly hair. Not totally curly, though. It’s sort of wavy and dark. I can’t say I like how it’s styled but it’s not bald. I shrug. He did send a shirtless picture like I was hoping, but it’s a little lackluster. He’s pale. Really pale. I can’t exactly make out a lot of muscle definition but maybe it’s just the angle and lighting. I still have hope. I think his smile is supposed to be sexy but it’s not. Ugh. This is going to have to do.

A notification from Jensen comes in and I click on it, flipping back to his messages. Oh my. He’s shirtless too. He’s also not pale, nor does he lack muscle definition. He’s just so deliciously perfect, from Adam’s apple to navel. It’s not like I didn’t see it while we were camping. How could I forget the swimming, the water dripping down his rippled muscles? His hair is a tousled mess, partially wet, like maybe he just got out of the shower. His smirk is so genuine and natural.

Let’s be logical here, Harper.You’re probably going to sleep with maybe a couple of guys before you find someone. So why would you sleep with Steve when you can sleep with Jensen? Jensen is much…better looking. Steve isn’t the one. I know that for sure. Practice is practice. I shrug again. Yes, okay, new plan.

Harper:Come ovverr

Throwing my phone down beside me, I close my eyes and wait. This is a good idea. Okay, don’t think about it. Just focus on something else. If you think about it too long, you’ll chicken out.

Should I take my clothes off? No, I’ll wait. He can take them off.

Maybe I should put more comfortable ones on. Or sexier ones on. I sit up, wondering if I even have anything sexy.

Making my way over to my dresser, I pull open the top drawers and rifle through my panties and bras. Nothing here screams, “Let’s have sex!” Oh wait! The lingerie nightgown in my bag from camping. Yes.

Whirling around to the chair where the bag is, I lose my footing and stumble, catching myself on the footboard of my bed. I reach for the bag, pulling it onto the floor in front of me. I slowly ease myself down onto the floor and search the bag for the garment Lyla tucked in. A mess of black strings and lace spills out. Okay, this is fine. I can do this. I lie back on the floor, unbuttoning my pants and shimmying out of them. Sitting up, I try to pull my shirt over my head and my arms get caught in the sleeves. My arms are like jello as I try to pull and tug and shimmy it up my shoulders but sure enough, it’s up over my face when I hear my door open.

“Harper?”

Jensen’s voice hits my ears through the fabric of my T-shirt, and my hot breath starts to suffocate me in here.

“Help. I’m stuck,” I plead. I hear my door shut and if I’m not mistaken, he’s attempting to suppress a laugh as he steps closer to me. His hands run down the length of my arms, rolling my shirt down.

“No, I need it off,” I say.

His hands stop, reversing their movements and lifting my shirt over my head.

I finally get a look at him and he’s staring off, away from me. “What are you doing?” I ask him.