Harper possessed a rare talent - she could blend two worlds that the universe swore could never coexist: her humdrum life as an accountant by day with her steamy famous alter ego crafting erotic tales online by night.
But her double life unravels in...
❝When we first dropped our bags on apartment floors Took our broken hearts, put them in a drawer Everybody here was someone else before And you can want who you want❞
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I got up like a vampire. Which wasn't my usual preference, really. Normally, I preferred being human but last night had disrupted my patterns.
For one, I'd forgotten to draw the curtains so the sunlight directly pierced my eyelids like two wooden stakes being plunged into my upper orifices (my eyes, you heathens.)
Secondly, I'd fallen asleep like a mummy. On my back, hands folded over my chest as if any second, Shortcake would come bounding into the room to kick my ass. I mean, I couldn't blame him for wanting to. I probably deserved it.
I'd unleashed hell on the semi-poor man, thinking him to be some kind of criminal last night out to rob 'EJ' but no. Shortcake—or Aiden as he'd introduced himself—was no serial mastermind on the prowl at Cobble Hill.
He was just a pizza-thieving asshole whose neck I'd scratched like a cat out of hell and possibly even resulted in a sprained shoulder. My own back was bruised and sore from him slamming me up against the wall during his self-defense and as I got up, I winced at the pain.
All night, I lay in fear. Not necessarily of him but of the situation I'd gotten myself into. I hadn't lived with a boy since I was eighteen and there was a huge difference between sharing a space with a baby brother and a total stranger who had a penchant for stealing your stuff.
"What are you doing, Harper?" I grumbled to myself and reached for my phone. It was 7:45 a.m. and I was starving, not to mention hungover. I could question my life choices later.
Getting to my feet, I decided to wash my face and freshen up slightly in the attached bathroom. Peeking in, I was surprised to see it was already fully stocked with guest soaps and bathing gel. Like the rest of Evan's apartment, the bathroom too was a sanctuary of clean lines and minimalist beauty.
Marble tiles graced the walls, and a frameless glass shower enclosure exuded a sense of luxury. A freestanding bathtub beckoned like a modern-day oasis and I almost considered dipping in for a nice relaxing cleanse. God knew I needed one.
Instead, I settled for a quick face wash and air-dried my skin, unsure how clean the face towel was. After that, I slowly creaked open the bedroom door which, much to my relief, didn't make a sound, and tip-toed out into the hall. I could hear soft snores coming from the other room and what sounded like a couple snorts and hiccups in the middle. He slept like Evan. Maybe it was a Mitchell-men thing.
I found my keys on the coffee table and slipped them into my jeans pocket before whipping out my phone. It was dangerously low on battery.
"Fuck."
I quickly scrolled through recent contacts and called Evan. He picked up after a single ring.
