Harp's Song Part 2

With a mischievous grin, he said, "I've got an idea."

"Oh G.o.d, that can't be good," I responded and rolled my eyes.

Pretending to be offended, he threw his hand across his chest and sucked in a large breath of air, "I can't believe you just said that." Then he left the room with a devious grin.

Connor came back a little bit later with two cans of c.o.ke, giving me one before rejoining me on the couch. Connor's little brother, Patrick came running downstairs right behind him and they started a new PlayStation game. The normality of the situation was not lost on me, especially considering the last twenty-four hours. I relished it.

"Harp, can you come here for a sec," Catherine hollered from the kitchen. Connor and Patrick were too engrossed in their game to pay any attention, so I ran up the stairs to see what she wanted.

"Oh good, you're here," she said with a smile across her face. She was wearing jeans, flats and a plum b.u.t.ton down blouse that accented her green eyes. She and Connor really did look a lot alike. "I just got off the phone with your mom and she agreed to let you come to Florida with us. Isn't that great news?"

I had to pick my jaw off the floor after processing what she had just told me. "How?" squeaked out.

"Well, I told her that our family babysitter backed out and I was desperate to get someone I could trust to help with Patrick. And that you both would be doing me a huge favor by agreeing to let you come with us," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Connor! c.r.a.p. I figured it out now-great idea my a.s.s-and started to turn back to yell at him, but Catherine stopped me.

"Harp, this is a good thing. He meant well and it's not entirely false. Although I think with you there, Connor will probably stick around more, so Patrick won't be alone as much. But if he does leave to work out while we aren't there, then I will need you to keep an eye out for Patrick. And, that means we can guarantee your safety."

"But, I ..."

"I know, this is overwhelming, but let us do this for you. We have plenty of room for your cello, so don't worry about anything," she said before turning me around and gently pus.h.i.+ng me toward the stairs to the bas.e.m.e.nt.

When I sat next to Connor on the couch, I gave him the evil eye but he just laughed and winked at me.

Ugh. He could be so frustrating.

Ultimately, he was right-we'd had a great time those three weeks. He ran and worked out in the mornings while I practiced, and we would spend the afternoons at the beach with Patrick until it was time to meet his parents for dinner. It was the most relaxed I'd ever been, and the best time I'd ever had.

It was hard going home after that. I did everything I could to stay out of my mom's way. I spent a lot of time after school each day in one of the music department practice rooms, or going to Connor's to study and have dinner there. I would quietly sneak back in my house hoping that she was already asleep or not home yet. I enjoyed the longest dry spell I'd ever had from her fights with me.

"Harp ...."

Connor's worried voice pulls me from my memory. Even with my eyes shut, I would be able to recognize his voice, but my eyes aren't shut this time, they are open, staring into flames.

"How long has she been like this?" he asks.

"A minute or so I think," I hear Ethan respond.

"Yeah, not very long, but it's freaking me out," adds Emma. "She won't move or blink or acknowledge us-she's totally zoned out."

I feel Connor's hands on my legs and his soothing voice once again, "Hey Harp, it's ok. Everything's ok. He's gone now-you're safe."

I blink snapping myself out of wherever I have been. I blink a few more times trying to relieve my stinging, dry eyes and look between Connor, Ethan and Emma.

"Oh thank G.o.d! I thought you were having a panic attack or something and we were going to have to take you to the hospital," Emma exclaims throwing her arms around me.

I keep blinking while she hugs me. I look at Ethan over Emma's shoulder and see his main emotion is also relief.

"You ok?" he asks. I nod slightly and then look at Connor who is the only one not looking relieved. Instead, he looks concerned. Lifting me to my feet, he pulls me to his side while telling Ethan and Emma he's taking me home. I smile weakly at them again and let Connor walk me around the outside of the small house to his truck, thankful he knew that I wouldn't want to go through the house and see anyone else.

We are quiet on the drive home. I can't figure out why I was so freaked out by what happened tonight. I was lost in my thoughts again, trying to decide if I freaked out because of the spark of superiority in Vincent's eyes or the flashbacks of Connor pummeling him. I didn't realize we were parked at Connor's house until he came around and opened my door.

"What are we doing here?"

"I don't think you should be alone tonight, Harp."

"I want to go home. I want to sleep in my bed. Please, Connor, take me home."

"Harp, don't argue with me. I know what happened tonight upset you and I can't let you be alone right now."

"Please, Con-"

"No. You're staying with me. I can't risk anything else happening to you tonight." He says forcefully with pain etched across his face.

I think about everything that happened earlier and realize I can't argue with him. He's right, deep down, I don't want to go back to my house with my mom and I don't want to be alone.

I look at the ground and give in, "Ok."

When we get to his room, he gives me a pair of his workout shorts and a T-s.h.i.+rt to sleep in. Both drown me and I roll the top of his shorts a couple of times to make sure they won't fall down. Connor lets me change in the bathroom in his room while he goes to the one down the hall, so when I open the door, I am relieved that he hasn't come back yet. I quickly climb into his bed-in the spot I usually sleep in-and roll over so my back is facing the door. Even though I am exhausted, I'm not sure I will actually fall asleep.

After a few minutes, the light turns off and I feel Connor's weight s.h.i.+ft the bed.

"Are you awake?" he asks.

I ignore him by pretending to be asleep hoping he will leave me alone. I need time to process what happened tonight. After a few minutes of silence, the bed s.h.i.+fts again and Connor's arm wraps around my waist as he pulls me into his chest. Gripping me tight, he gives me a kiss on the top of my head. I continue to pretend I am asleep because I definitely don't want to talk about anything right now, but also because this is really awkward and I think if I ignore it, everything will go back to normal tomorrow when we get up, but nope, not my night.

After kissing the top of my head, Connor whispers, "I love you."

My eyes fly open and my heart starts hammering in my chest. Did he seriously just say that he loves me? He's never said that to me before. I lay there, in his arms for what feels like hours trying to figure out what the h.e.l.l that was about. I force myself to close my eyes and will myself to get some sleep, but I can't stop my mind from running in circles. It flashes between images of an arrogant Vincent, to watching blood splatter when Connor punched him.

Still enveloped in Connor's arms, I gently roll away from him so I can turn to see his face. He is so peaceful, breathing steadily with his eyes closed and dark, thick lashes touching his tanned cheeks. My eyes roam over his torso where his T-s.h.i.+rt is pulled tight, revealing his muscular chest framed by large, broad shoulders. They continue their path, following his defined arms all the way down to his hand, where I trace each of his strong yet beautiful fingers.

Looking back at his face I lay there until dawn, watching my best friend breathe, except that after hours of watching him I feel a s.h.i.+ft in me. I can't explain it really, and my mind is totally frazzled. Instead of trying to figure it out, I succ.u.mb to the rhythmic simplicity of his breaths, and let them lull me to sleep.

I have no idea what time it is when I wake up, but light is streaming through the window. When I roll over, I realize Connor isn't in bed anymore. Glancing at the alarm clock next to his bed, I see that it's just after eleven. I rarely sleep late, mainly because I know if I get up early enough, I can get out of the house before my mom wakes up.

I sit up and reach for my phone to see that I have a text from Emma checking in to see if I'm ok after what happened last night.

I'm startled when Connor comes into the room, sweaty and breathing heavily, obviously just getting back from a run. I eye his naked chest and trace the lines of his stomach before looking back to his face.

"Oh good, you're up. I didn't want to wake you earlier. You looked so peaceful when I left."

"Yeah, thanks," I say and then look back down at my phone. I don't know why I suddenly feel awkward with Connor, well, that's not true. I know exactly why I feel awkward, and it's because of his admission when he thought I was sleeping. I am trying to decide whether I should say something to him or just let the awkwardness ride until it goes away, when he interrupts my thoughts.

"Why don't you take a shower in here and I'll take one in the other bathroom. I'll meet you back here. I think we should talk about what happened last night. And, I know you don't want to, but we have to."

I know he is right. c.r.a.p. I get up and grab last night's clothes before heading into the bathroom. I let the hot water cascade over and soothe me, not getting out until my fingers are pruned. I wrap myself in a large towel and see my reflection in the mirror.

I remember staring into the fire last night recalling last summer's fight with my mom. I haven't thought about that fight or any of the others in a long time. I always I bury them deep inside me when they are over. It's the only way I can deal with them, her, and the fact that she's never going to change.

Even though I'll be graduating soon and can leave her behind; there are times when I feel like giving up and giving in. Sometimes it's exhausting to constantly struggle with myself to be the better person. It would be so much easier to absorb her words and actions. Then, I remind myself that if I let her destroy me just like she wants, then she wins, and I'm no better than her. I will not let her pull me down. I will not be a hateful person, and I will not inflict that kind of pain on anyone else or be around it.

I've had some encounters with her since that fight last summer, but she hasn't physically lashed out at me, and I am grateful for that.

As I evaluate my face in the mirror for the millionth time, I sigh knowing there is nothing I can do about it. As much as I hate it, and try to pretend I don't believe my mother, and as much as I know it isn't true, deep down, well, it resonates with me. After so many years of hearing someone tell you how ugly you are, at some point, you start believing it regardless of what the rational part of your brain is telling you. In some ways, I think that's what shocked me about last night. While Vincent was a pig, he'd actually complemented me on some level-yes, a very, very low level, but I'd never had that kind of attention before.

Pulling myself together, I re-enter Connor's bedroom to find him sitting on his bed.

An uncomfortable silence fills the air, which is totally new for us. I look down at my hands and rub the calluses that I've formed from playing the cello. I come to sit on the end of his bed, cross my legs and face him.

s.h.i.+fting the bed beneath us, Connor reaches over and slips his finger under my chin to look in my eyes, "Hey, I'm just worried about you and want to make sure you're ok. You know, after what that guy said and did last night."

I look into his eyes and feel relief followed by disappointment. I guess I thought he was going to bring up his proclamation for me before we went to bed, but then I realize he thought I was asleep, so he wouldn't know I had heard it.

OMG Harp Get a grip, why do I care so much anyway?

I pull his hand into mine, "Yeah, I mean I was totally shocked when he grabbed me and I turned to look at you hoping you'd seen, but you were talking to one of the guys on the team. I thought, maybe ignoring him would make him stop. But, well, I guess we both know now that wasn't going to happen."

"I'm sorry Harp, I'm so sorry. If I'd known he touched you like that I would have ended it right then. I didn't know-I'm so sorry. You ... you didn't deserve that or what he said later."

Pain with a touch of anger forms in Connor's expression, and I am suddenly overwhelmed with how grateful I feel to have him in my life.

"I know, and I appreciate everything you did for me last night-for protecting me. Not a lot of people would do that for me, in fact ... maybe only you," I scoff.

"First of all, there are a lot of people that care about you, you just don't let them in and that's ok. I understand why you're so closed off, but I hope one day you can see all the love that's around you, and for you."

What?

"Second, Harp, what happened outside, with Ethan and Emma? I came back and it was like you were a zombie. What happened, huh?"

I look down at my hands again and shrug my shoulders. I take a deep breath and sigh, "I don't know what happened. When we got outside I focused on the fire and I, I uh ... the flames just hypnotized me and I started remembering the fight last summer with my mom, and then I was thinking about Florida."

"Did I scare you last night?"

I lift my head now, looking between his eyes and see how scared he is of my answer. I think about it and honestly, it hadn't crossed my mind until he just said it.

"I don't know. I mean, maybe a little. I've never seen you like that. You're always so happy, and I know you're stronger and bigger than him, but the anger radiating off of you, and the way you turned with such determination and hit him ..." I said my voice trailing off and getting quiet, "The whole thing freaked me out. I saw the look in Vincent's eyes, like I was some sort of challenge and he was invincible. He definitely scared me more than you. And I know you were only protecting me, but ... yeah, I guess I was scared."

Leaning over to me, Connor scoops his arm under my legs and wraps his other arm around my shoulders. He places me on his lap and I curl myself into his chest, "Harp, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just want to protect you. I don't know what I would do if something happened you."

I put my hand on his chest, and look up at him, smiling into his beautiful, sincere face. "I love you too Connor. You're my best friend."

His expression changes from joy to confusion at my words. I don't know what I've done but it doesn't matter, he pulls me close to him again and we sit there in his room for a few minutes until my stomach growls. We laugh before leaving to get some food. Even then, that s.h.i.+ft I felt this morning is back. I don't know if it's a s.h.i.+ft in him, both of us or just me, but its presence is definitely there, thick and heavy like a hot humid summer day.

"Did you finish that paper for English?" Connor asks after I hop into his truck. Monday mornings are usually a little rough. Combine that with the paper that is due in English cla.s.s today, and well, I knew he was going to be grumpy.

As much as Connor doesn't like English, he does like Ms. Anderson-well, most of the guys in school like Ms. Anderson. She is younger than the other teachers, probably mid to late twenties, tall and thin with thick black hair, and piercing blue eyes. She always dresses in the latest trends-pencil skirts, skinny pants and heels-and needless to say, even if they hate English, the guys love being in her cla.s.s. I am not sure they are learning much of anything with all the staring, and daydreaming they do though. Beyond her physical beauty, I really like her too-she's a good teacher.

"Yeah. Did you stay up all night writing your paper?"

Rolling his eyes, he slumps himself over his steering wheel, "Yeessss ... I don't see the point though, it was a dumb a.s.signment."

I blatantly disagree with him. We had just finished reading one of the required books for the curriculum, and she was giving us a break to write about one of our favorite memories. We'd had a week to do the a.s.signment, so I had done mine throughout the week and knew Connor would procrastinate and wait until Sunday night.

"Oh, so learning how to write and understand the English language is useless to you because you're too good for it?" I throw back at him. I love teasing Connor about how much he hates English, only because next to music it is my favorite subject. The tables turn on me when it comes to math and science though. Connor is a brainiac in those subjects, and always has to help me with my homework in those cla.s.ses.

"Seriously Harp? You gonna rag me about English on a Monday morning?" he says, shaking his head.

"Ok, ok, I'll go easy on you-here," I reply holding a blueberry m.u.f.fin in his direction.

"Thanks! You're the be..." he exclaims shoving the m.u.f.fin in his mouth. I have an obsession with baked goods and almost every Sunday I make m.u.f.fins, cookies, banana bread, whatever sounds good and then share it with Connor on the way to school. Plus, I always feel bad that he drives me to school and back every day, so I figure it's the least I can do since he won't accept gas money from me.

Pulling into a parking spot at school, I look around enjoying the normality of it all. Even though I'm not outgoing, I love being at school instead of my house. As soon as Connor gets out of his truck and starts walking toward the doors, ding-dong girls, or members of the baseball team accost him.

Connor had been scouted throughout his junior and senior years, finally accepting a scholars.h.i.+p to play for the University of North Carolina-which I am happy about because he'd had offers in California. Being that far away from him would have been horrific. While UNC isn't around the corner, it is only eight or so hours from where I will be, and that I can handle.

I shake my head looking at Connor, who is surrounded by people as he walks to the doors, but as my best friend does every morning, he holds the door open and waits for me before we walk to our lockers. At the end of last year, Connor sweet-talked the office secretary into a.s.signing our lockers next to each other ... again.

Of course he did.

As we approach them, I see Ethan, which is unusual because his locker is in the other senior hallway, and we usually don't see him until lunch.

"Hey man, what's up?" Connor greets him as soon as he sees him.

"Hey," he says nodding to Connor, "Hi Harp."

"Hi Ethan, thanks again for your help Friday night."

"Oh yeah, sure Harp, no big deal, but that's why I'm here."

Connor and I share a puzzled look, "What's up?"

"Well, you know Justin's cousin from the party?"

We both shake our heads. How can I forget?

"He's a new student here. He's starting today. I saw him and Justin come in together this morning, and I wanted to tell you guys so you can keep an eye out for him."

I am stunned because I thought Vincent looked older, but obviously I was wrong. Well, hopefully he will stay away from us, especially after Connor set him straight. I turn to open my locker and Ethan turns his back to me to continue talking to Connor. With the noise in the hall increasing and the way they are talking so low and closely with each other, I can't hear what they are saying. I get my books and turn to them.

"Hey, I'm going to go to cla.s.s, I'll see you there in a few minutes."

I can clearly see the worry in Connor's face. I wonder what he and Ethan are talking about. I'm sure he'll tell me once he gets to cla.s.s.

"Ah, Miss Evans, you're early today. Did you have a good weekend?"

"Hi, Ms. Anderson, yes, thanks."