I think you’re supposed to mix it slowly, Casper.”I laughed and icing sugar caught in my throat.

How do you know my name?” I asked as he lowered his weight beside me.“We go to the same school. And why are you hiding your face? You never do that.

I thought she suspected something last night…” I stared at the paper bag lying in the center of the table and looked back to Cash. “So she doesn’t know about Dad?”“No—that’s your truth to tell.”“Great, so she thinks I’m a bad influence on you.”“There’s a way to fix that, you know.

Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Harper?”“Aw, God, what’d I hit?” I asked, groaning while shifting to sit up. The place spun a little. The cold tiles bit into the seams of my jeans.“The shopping cart,” Cash replied, humor edging his voice. “Shit… Feels like a truck, only it hit me.”“Anything hurt?” Cash bent down into my line of vision.“My hands.” I turned them over to find them grazed, “and ass. I fell on it.”“Can you bash yourself up any more?

Ah, Cash?” “Mmm?” he hummed. “The mesh top is a little small.”“So? It’s supposed to be.”“No, I mean small, small—I can’t get it back over my head kind of small,” I said quickly. “I feel like I’m going to pass out.”“Hang on.

Didn’t think I’d find you here,” he murmured. “You scared me.”“Sorry. What’d you get?”I smirked.“Gingerbread?”“Mmhm.” I shuffled my feet, smiling. “We’ve got two each.

I understand. Just long as you know it wasn’t and isn’t your fault, Harper. It was an illness, one you had no control over. ”“I think deep down I did, I do, but hearing someone like Dad say it was my fault, it…” I trailed off, shaking my head.“It made it real.”“Yeah, exactly.” I nodded absently.“I’m selfish… It’s easy for me to say all that when—

Welcome to apartment life,” Cash breathed. “I sure know how to make a great first impression,” I muttered, following Cash as he laughed. I didn’t see what was so funny. I’d been yearning for that kiss for months. “No welcome cookies for you then.

Sorry.” I sniffed again, wiping the corner of my eye.“Why are you apologizing for crying?”“Because it’s weak.”He scoffed. “Showing emotion is a sign of strength, Harper. Too many people hide how they feel.” “Why do you think that is?”“Because they’re scared of the consequences of showing how they feel,” he whispered, looking away.

And these don’t feel a little tight?” he murmured against my ear, squeezing me through the material of my underwear. I whimpered and pumped my hips.“They weren’t,” I panted.“They feel a little tight,” he insisted. “Course they’re tight,” I choked. “You’ve got me worked up.”“And out.