You’re Mine

Chapter 123

Harper

"No."

It's all I can say, alll can think. No. No. No. No. “Harper.”

He reaches for me.

All I can do is slap his phone into his hand and turn away from him. This isn't okay. Nothing about this is okay. He has a naked picture of the school counselor on his phone in order to blackmail her and he never told me.

He fucking left me that night and lied. The problem is his lies.

Had he just said, oh hey, btw, this woman is the worst and I slept with her and here's everything laid out on the table, full disclosure, like he SAID he was going to do. I feel sick to my stomach.

Forget feeling like shit this morning thanks to my cold. Nothing compares to this feeling of finding that photo on his phone.

I turn around and start to walk away. “Harper.”

The way he says my name kills a part of my soul.

He says it like a prayer every time, and it's so damn hard not to fall to my knees and worship the way he treats me or how I thought he treated me.

I think back on when I was sick and he dropped stuff off, I think back on all the times he was my rock and I wonder what I did wrong to make him feel he couldn't trust me, when he fucking lied and said he did.

I want to be his as much as he's mine. So why doesn't it work?

Why are there so many obstacles the minute I think things are okay?

The stress is starting to really get to me.

“Not now,’ I finally say. It's all I really can say without puking all over the sidewalk and I make my way back into the school for my last class. Shit. I know I probably look horrible. I rush into the girls bathroom and grip the sink, then stare at my reflection, wondering why it's hard to even recognize myself anymore. The door opens. “Girl, Sadie says.

"I saw you running, are you okay?”

"Yes."

I fib. And then fall into broken sobs. "No, he I—lied. He went to her and I had his phone...”

After checking all the Stalls it only takes me three minutes to tell her before the bell rings. “This isn't over.”

She juts a finger at me. “If Ryan knew about this, I'm burning his ass with a fucking torch!"

I sniffle and shrug. "Can you at least tell me I don't look like hell before I head over to gym?"

She winces. “Maybe just...put on some lipgloss?”

"Lipgloss doesn't fix broken hearts,”

I point out. "No."

She braces my shoulders with her hands.

“But it does give you more power when you're wearing lipstick. Ask my grandma, she's eighty, and red lipstick still gets her laid."

I laugh through my tears. “I knew I liked your grandma.”

“Everyone clearly does."

She winks. "Put on the pink gloss, go to gym, ignore him for the rest of the afternoon.

You only have fifty minutes of hell before you can sneak into the liquor cabinet or DoorDash fries, kay?"

I nod and swallow the giant sized golf ball in my throat, trying to clean up my face as much as possible before I head to gym.

With Aisha and Blake.

Yay, the hits just keep coming. I don't even have a phone I can utilize just in case Easton actually does have a better confession or explanation.

I want to say we're done, but right now I just need a break from it all before I rage.

I change into my gym clothes and walk into the giant space.

Aisha is off to the side, talking to Julia, and when Blake sees me, he frowns as he approaches.

Like literally the last thing I need right now is one of his pep talks.

I turn away as the teacher blows his whistle. “Line up, we're playing badminton! Find a partner and remember if I see any more cell phones out or Toks or Tiks— whatever the hell you kids call it being filmed, it's detention.

You know things happen in actual real time here at school and filming your life for the world to see because you want to be an influencer isn't how it's done if you want to go to college."

“Someone's pissed, Blake says from behind me. Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

"His daughter, by the way, has two million followers on TikTok. Think he's triggered that she makes more than him?"

I smile, despite my grumpy mood, and turn around. “It's not like teachers are rolling in it.”

“Especially gym teachers.”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, pieces of it falling against his high cheekbones. "Let's team up, you look like you could use a win today.”

I shrug. “Technically, you're playing against me.”

"Right."

He takes a step forward until he's inches from me, licking his lips before saying, "I suck at badminton, couldn't ever get into it once I found out you technically call the little birdie shit a shuttlecock.”

He grins. "So, what do you say?

You wanna shuttle my cock?

And I mean that in the most respectful way possible.”

Our teacher starts yelling about lining up again as Blake holds out the shuttlecock. And for some reason. I want nothing more than to grab him. Rage. And beat his ass.