Chapter Four — The Research Proposal
730 Words
(Harper’s POV)
Eli’s sitting cross-legged on my bed, scrolling through my laptop with an expression that screams mischief. I should’ve known better than to let him “check his email” on my computer.
“Harper,” he says slowly, squinting at the screen. “What exactly is this?”
My stomach drops. “Eli, don’t—”
“Oh my God,” he interrupts, eyes widening. “You wrote a romance novel?”
“Give that back!” I lunge, but he holds the laptop over his head, cackling.
“‘His hands brushed her hips as she forgot how to breathe.’” He gasps dramatically. “Harper Lane, my sweet, innocent best friend… this is—wow.”
I bury my face in my hands. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” he sing-songs. “And honestly? This is good. Like, really good. But…” He tilts his head, scanning more. “…you definitely need a little firsthand research.”
I peek through my fingers. “Research?”
“Yeah. You’ve got the emotion down, but…” He grins. “You’ve clearly never been kissed like this.”
My cheeks burn. “Eli!”
“What? I’m right.” He closes the laptop and looks at me knowingly. “You want it to feel real, don’t you? Then you need to understand it.”
I groan. “And how exactly do you suggest I do that? Take a field trip to a kissing booth?”
He taps his chin dramatically. “Hmm. Or maybe you ask someone you already trust.”
I blink. “Like who?”
His grin turns devilish. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed the way Jace looks at you now.”
My heart lurches. “Eli, that’s insane. He’s my brother’s best friend.”
“Exactly. Which means he won’t hurt you, and you two already have that spark.”
“There is no spark.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Sure, Jan.”
I throw a pillow at him, but he just laughs, dodging easily.
“I’m serious,” I say. “He’d never say yes. And I’d never—”
“Never what?” Eli leans forward, eyes glinting. “Ask him to help you with your writing research?”
My silence says everything.
He grins, victorious. “Thought so.”
⸻
Later that evening, I find Jace in the garage, shirt streaked with grease as he fiddles with something under the hood of his car.
He looks up when he hears me. “Hey, Harper. Need something?”
My words knot in my throat. I can still hear Eli’s voice in my head: You need to understand it.
“Uh… yeah,” I manage. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something kind of… weird.”
He wipes his hands on a rag, curious. “Weird how?”
“Like… writing weird.”
He smirks. “You mean your romance stuff?”
My stomach drops. “You knew?”
He chuckles. “You left your notebook on the porch once. I skimmed a page or two.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, covering my face. “You were never supposed to see that.”
“Relax,” he says, his tone teasing but soft. “You’ve got talent.” Then, tilting his head: “So what do you need from me, exactly?”
The question hangs between us, and my heart starts racing. I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.
He waits, a little amused, a little intrigued.
“I just…” I finally say. “There are parts I don’t really… know how to write. You know. In a real way.”
His smile fades slightly as understanding dawns in his eyes.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “Those parts.”
I nod, cheeks flaming. “For research.”
“Research,” he repeats, his voice lower now. “Right.”
I shrug helplessly. “You don’t have to—”
“Harper.” He steps closer, his expression unreadable. “If I say yes… nobody can know. Especially Noah.”
I swallow hard. “Deal.”
He studies me for another long moment, the air between us charged and fragile. Then he gives a faint, crooked smile.
“Then I guess we’ve got ourselves a little… project.”
- Writer
