Chapter 53 HARPER
I had never been inside Miller’s Bar—not legally, anyway. It wasn’t even a real bar, more like a converted barn behind Miller’s uncle’s huge property, where all the seniors came to ‘hang out,’ which really meant: drink, make out, and do reckless things that should probably void our health insurance.
But walking in with Tyler? Yeah… that was different.
Music thumped from old speakers, the floorboards vibrated with bass, and students—still in parts of their uniforms—were scattered everywhere. How they beat us here, even with Peter and Tyler racing each other, I didn't know. Some had already ditched their ties, others had hiked up skirts or loosened collars to look more rebellious.
Tyler tugged me in with his good hand, smiling like he’d just dragged me into Wonderland.
“Okay,” he announced, leaning down so only I could hear. “Lesson one in becoming the life of the party: you don’t actually have to be wild. You just have to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Which I’m… not,” I whispered.
“That’s why I said lesson one.” He smirked. “Fake it. People will believe the performance before the personality.”
I rolled my eyes. “That sounds manipulative.”
“It is,” he said proudly. “But it works. Trust me.”
Peter had already disappeared toward the pool table with Cassie, leaving me and Tyler alone in the crowd. His sling—dark navy against his white dress shirt—made him stand out, but that didn’t stop people from shouting his name, patting his back, or offering to buy him drinks he obviously couldn’t accept.
Tyler pointed to a group huddled around the bar counter. “Lesson two: never drink anything at a teens party. Half these idiots don’t know the difference between vodka and acetone.”
I snorted. “So I’m supposed to… pretend?”
“Yes.” He leaned in, tapping my empty hand. “Hold a cup. Don’t sip. Look like you know what you’re doing.”
“Won’t people notice?”
“Harper.” He grinned. “These are teenagers. They won’t notice if the place catches fire.”
A blush crept up my neck, partly from embarrassment, partly from how close he still was. His breath brushed my cheek again, stirring the memory earlier from the car.
Calm down.
“You’re overthinking it,” he murmured.
“You’re too close,” I shot back.
He smirked. “And?”
My heart did a stupid little lurch.
Before I could answer, someone shoved a red cup into my hand.
“Harper! Try this—Miller’s newest creation!” Billy shouted.
Tyler snatched it before I could blink, sniffed it the way a detective would sniff suspicious powder, and handed it back. “No.”
Billy groaned, already stumbling away.
Tyler gave me an approving nod. “Lesson three: if someone offers you a drink that glows under the light? Decline.”
“That glowed?” I whispered.
“Harper, it was neon.”
We drifted deeper inside until we reached the small open space that passed as a dance floor. Students were grouped in circles, hyping each other up, jumping, swaying, shouting the lyrics way off-key.
Tyler leaned close again, lowering his voice. “Lesson four: if you don’t know what to do, start a game.”
“What kind of game?”
“One people can join,” he said. “Truth or dare. Song requests. A dance-off. Anything that makes you seem fun, even if you’re terrified.”
He nudged me forward. “Here—go ask them what song they want next.”
My stomach plummeted. “Tyler—”
“You can do it.” His thumb brushed my knuckles—barely a touch, but enough to send heat crawling up my arm. “I’m right here.”
I swallowed hard and stepped toward the nearest group. “Um—what, uh… what song do you guys want to play next?”
They looked at me, surprised. Then one girl’s face lit up. “Ooh! Play ‘Heatstroke’!”
Another chimed in. “Or ‘Gravity’!”
I nodded, feeling something warm spread in my chest. They didn’t laugh. They didn’t ignore me. They smiled.
Tyler looked smug when I returned.
“See? Told you.”
“Shut up.”
“Lesson five,” he said, “when you do something right, own it. Don’t shrink.”
I straightened, trying to stand taller and not fold when someone looked my way. But then—
“Tyler!”
Ugh.
Racquel sashayed toward us like she was gliding on a runway, her uniform skirt now suspiciously shorter than school regulations allowed. She planted herself in front of him, flipping her hair so aggressively I thought she’d dislocate her neck.
“You look adorable with your little sling.” She touched his arm—the injured one. “Poor baby.”
Tyler’s jaw tightened. “Don’t do that.”
“Oh, relax.” She slid her fingers up his bicep. “I can help you loosen up.”
Gross.
I remembered something Tyler had told me earlier: If someone makes you uncomfortable, interrupt the moment—distract them, take control.
Fine. Time to test the theory.
I stepped forward, right between them, and pressed a hand to Tyler’s chest, tipping my head up.
“Ty,” I said sweetly. “You promised you were gonna teach me that thing.”
His brows lifted. “What thing?”
I widened my eyes meaningfully.
He blinked… then caught on.
“Oh—right. That thing.”
Racquel scowled. “What thing?”
Tyler opened his mouth, but I beat him to it.
“Actually,” I said coyly, “you can help me now.”
Then—God, I couldn’t believe myself—I slipped my hand around the back of his neck and tugged him down a little, brushing my nose along his jawline.
His breath hitched. So did mine..We were entirely too close.
Racquel froze.
“What the hell?” she snapped.
“Oh sorry.” I fluttered an innocent smile. “Were you saying something?”
Tyler coughed, trying—and failing—to hide the faint blush creeping along his cheekbones. “Uh… yeah. We should go. Lesson… um, seven.”
“Seven?” I whispered.
“Act natural.”
He grabbed my waist—firmly—and steered me away. Once we were out of earshot, he stopped and exhaled a shaky laugh.
“Harper. You can’t just—” He rubbed his face with his free hand. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“You said to interrupt.”
“That wasn’t interrupting. That was—” He swallowed hard. “—nuclear warfare.”
I smirked. “But it worked.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “A little too well.”
Before I could tease him again, the music shifted into something faster, louder, and the dance floor pulsed with energy.
Tyler looked at me, mischief in his eyes.
“Okay,” he said, “lesson eight: when in doubt… dance.”
I snorted. “I can’t dance.”
“That’s fine.” He leaned in, his voice brushing my ear. “I can.”
My breath caught. His hand moved from my waist to my hip, warm and deliberate, mindful of the sling but confident with the other arm. Heat seeped through my uniform skirt.
“Tyler—”
“Relax,” he murmured. “Just follow me.”
He guided me gently into the rhythm. I stumbled at first, but he kept his hand on me, steadying me, smiling every time I stepped the wrong way.
“You’re thinking too much,” he said.
“I’m trying.”
He shook his head, curls brushing his forehead. “Stop trying. Just feel it.”
I let myself breathe. Let myself lean into him. Without warning, he lifted my chin with two fingers.
“Lesson nine,” he whispered. “Confidence is contagious.”
Oh. Oh God. He was too close again.
Heat crackled between us, tempting and dangerous. His hand returned to my hip, tightening a little, pulling me closer than was strictly necessary.
And out of nowhere a camera flashed.
We both jerked back.
Sarah and Claire giggled nearby, phones up, whispering.
Tyler muttered a curse. “Great. Now the whole school’s gonna think—”
I interrupted quietly, “Tyler… you’re still holding my waist.”
“Oh,” he muttered, fingers tensing a bit. Slowly, reluctantly, he let go.
The music pounded around us, but for a moment it all felt muffled, like everything had narrowed to the warmth of his touch and the space he left behind.
His eyes flicked to my lips.
Not again.
“Lesson ten,” he said hoarsely, forcing a half-smile as he took a step back, “never do anything at a party you might regret later.”
“Oh?” I blinked up at him. “Wait… did I do something wrong?”
He stared at me for a second too long, before he finally replied with a sigh: “no.”
But the way his eyes lowered, then flickered back up, like he wanted to say something more—
“Guys! Coach Turner is driving up the hill!”
Panic erupted instantly.
Tyler’s head snapped toward me, eyes widening. “Well,” he said, grabbing my hand, “lesson eleven: run.”
And just like that, he pulled me into a sprint, laughter and adrenaline crashing through me as we bolted out into the warm afternoon light.