Chapter 5.
896 Words
She collapsed onto a bench, burying her face in her arms on the cold wooden table. The stress was blooming into a full-blown migraine behind her eyes.
"Hey."
The husky voice from earlier sent goosebumps dancing down her skin. Harper lifted her head, squinting against the sunlight to see Kane standing there. Up close, he was far more attractive than Derek- raw, real, and dangerous.
"You look like you're having a worse morning than I am," Kane said, sliding onto the bench across from her.
Harper let out a jagged breath, looking at this stranger who seemed to see right through her edgy armor. "I'm sick, Kane," she whispered, the honesty coming easier to a stranger than it did to the boy who was supposed to love her. "I have a month. Cellular degradation. The doctors... they say that's it for me."
Kane didn't flinch. He didn't look at her with that watery, pathetic pity the nurse had. He just watched her with those steady green eyes, his expression unreadable but grounded.
"A month, huh?" Kane said softly, his voice like velvet over gravel. "Then you definitely shouldn't be wasting another second on a coward like that guy inside."
Before Harper could respond, a familiar, high-pitched "Harp!" pierced the air.
Maxine came skipping up to the table, her eyes red-rimmed from her own night of crying, but her face set in a look of fierce determination. She stopped short when she saw the tattooed "bad boy" sitting with her best friend.
"Max," Harper said, gesturing vaguely. "This is Kane. Ryan's cousin."
Maxine looked from the leather-clad stranger back to Harper, her protective instincts visibly flaring up. "I don't care if he's the King of England," Maxine declared, stepping between them and grabbing Harper's hand. "We have a bucket list to make, and we're starting right now."
The morning air was still crisp, but the atmosphere around the picnic table had shifted from stagnant grief to a sudden, electric momentum. Harper looked at Maxine, whose eyes were a storm of red-rimmed sorrow and iron-clad defiance.
"I heard what happened. Word travels fast," Maxine said, her voice dropping an octave as she glanced back toward the school doors where Derek had presumably slunk back into the shadows of his own cowardice. "So..." she stood up, her posture straighter than Harper had seen it in weeks, holding out a hand like a lifeline. "We’re going for a road trip. Right now. No more classrooms, no more bells, and definitely no more Derek. Make a list, Harp. Every place you’ve ever wanted to see, every stupid thing you’ve ever wanted to do. We’re starting the clock."
Harper stared at her friend’s outstretched hand. A month. Thirty days. The absurdity of sitting through AP History while her cells were resigning from their jobs hit her with the force of a freight train. "Max, I love the spirit," Harper said, a small, genuine tug forming at the corner of her mouth, "but you don't have a car. And my mom has the SUV at the clinic today for a meeting with the patient advocate."
"I do."
The voice was deep, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the wooden table. Kane was looking between the two girls, his green eyes unreadable but lit with a flick of dark amusement. He pushed off the table, the leather of his jacket creaking. "I’ll lend you the wheels on one condition."
Harper quirked an eyebrow, her sassy armor clicking back into place. "And what’s the catch, bad boy? Do we have to help you rob a liquor store?"
Kane let out a short, dry bark of a laugh. He stepped closer, his shadow falling over Harper, smelling of clove cigarettes and expensive cologne. "Nothing so dramatic. I’ll provide the car, the gas, and the getaway... but I come with. I don't know anyone in this town, and frankly, watching you tell that golden-boy jerk to screw off was the most entertained I've been all year. I want to see what else you've got." He flashed a charming, crooked smile- the kind of smile that had undoubtedly caused a trail of broken hearts and questionable decisions in his wake.
Harper looked at Maxine. Maxine looked at Kane, assessing the tattoo on his neck and the raw power in his shoulders. She looked back at Harper and gave a single, firm nod.
"Yeah," Harper said, looking back at Kane. "Why not? It’s not like I have a long-term reputation to worry about anymore."
"Great. Where to first, girls?" Kane didn't wait for a formal invitation. He reached down, catching Harper’s hand to help her up from the bench. His grip was warm and steady, a stark contrast to the way Derek had grabbed her arm in the hallway.
He began leading them toward the parking lot, where a sleek, black muscle car sat like a predatory animal among the rows of sensible sedans. It was a vintage beast, polished to a mirror finish, looking like it belonged in a noir film rather than a high school lot.
"Whoa," Maxine breathed, her eyes widening. "Is that a GTO?"
"1969," Kane said, his voice brimming with a rare note of pride. "She’s louder than she looks."
- Writer
