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Chapter One

Harper

"Harp, I swear, if you play that song again, I will throw your speaker out the window. Mark my words."

Despite my speaker blasting Russ' Losing Control, I can hear Taylor's voice from the kitchen loud and clear. I chuckle while turning down my speaker, promptly ending the concert I was putting on for my bathroom mirror.

I continue my nightly skincare by rubbing my under-eye cream onto my dark bags with my delicate fingertips. "Oh, be quiet," I shout back as I complete my routine with my moisturizer. I grab my dirty clothes off the grimy yellow tiled floor and head to my bedroom.

I flop back onto my bed. I make a snow angel in my sheets and run my hands over the ratty pink and purple polka dot comforter I have had since I was ten. Luckily, my height has only increased by a few inches since then, putting me at a whopping four foot eleven, so the twin-size blanket still covers my petite frame.

I glance to the left at the sound of rain hitting my window and my stomach fills with dread. Growing up in Texas, tornados and destructive storms are something I have become accustomed to. That's not to say they still don't scare the shit out of me. Luckily, I've never experienced a truly horrific storm, but the fact that the trailer home I live in isn't exactly safe is enough to send me into a panic at the sight of dark clouds.

I look up from the window at the sound of my door opening to see Taylor bursting in with the most intense expression I have ever seen on her face. "Don't try and pull that shit with me. I know you only do this when the thoughts running through your big ol' brain are a jumbled mess."

I blink up at my best friend, surprise taking over my ability to respond. My unusual tactics to handle my stress are no secret to Taylor, but she rarely calls me out on it.

"You play the same song, again and again, because you feel more in control of what is running through your head. So, tell me, what's making you feel out of control?"

I watch as she copies my earlier move and falls onto my bed, but unlike me, she goes face first. I turn my head to the side and open my mouth to respond, but Taylor continues mumbling into my mattress. "What do you use to wash your sheets? It smells amazing. Like apple pie."

I sit up and look over at the girl I have known most of my life. Eighteen years, if we're getting into specifics. "I'm not sure what question you want me to answer here." Taylor looks at me with a raised brow, telling me which question she obviously wants answered. "Okay. Okay. I use those scent boosters, but I get the –" I narrow my eyes at her and run one soothing hand over my right thigh where I just landed a brutal punch. "That hurt."

Taylor doesn't acknowledge that; she just looks at me expectantly.

I fiddle with my fingers while I debate how to tell her what I've been hiding from her all day. As two friends who share no secrets, an entire twelve hours of keeping this to myself is equivalent to a lifetime.

I know she'll be hurt because I didn't call her immediately after I found out about my fate awaiting me, but I just don't know how to tell her.

I walk over to my dresser and allow the feeling of the stained khaki carpet beneath my feet to center my thoughts. I grab a ruby red silk PJ set from the drawer, manifesting the color gives me the confidence I need to break the news.

Smell the roses. Blow out the candles.

I drop my towel to the floor and pull the shorts over my freshly shaved legs. Following with the tank top over my head, I repeat my mantra until I've avoided the subject as long as I can.

I turn towards Taylor, who hasn't moved from her perch on the edge of my bed, and I blurt the words that have been plaguing me all afternoon.

"I got a job offer in Minnesota."