Overprotected Read online

  “Harper? Zane!” We fall apart all at once at the loud, sharp-sounding whisper and it takes me a moment to recognize it as my mom’s voice.

  “Mom!” I pull my shirt down and try to make my poor, turned-on, kind-of-tipsy brain work.

  “What are you two doing out here?”

  I very nearly ask her if it isn’t obvious what we’re doing and stifle a giggle. It’s funny, but at the same time it’s terrifying that my mom found us.

  “We were just talking, having a few beers,” I say quickly.

  “You’re drunk,” Mom says, and I look up to see her glaring at me.

  “It’s not like that’s against the law, Mom,” I tell her.

  “You two were making out,” Mom continues.

  “That’s not illegal either,” Zane counters, and this time I can’t suppress the snicker the forces its way through my nose and mouth.

  “Look, it’s late,” I say. “Why don’t we all go back to bed?”

  “You and I are going to talk about this, Harper Polsen,” my mom says, and I cringe. If she’d thrown in my middle name I would know for sure that I was in deep shit. But how can I be in trouble? I wasn’t doing anything illegal, or even immoral.

  “Tomorrow, Mom,” I say.

  I manage to get to my feet, and start towards the house, barely even looking at her and definitely not looking at Zane.

  I have no idea if Mom is going to say anything to Bev, but I’m also not about to have a conversation about my sex life with my mom in the middle of the night. Zane is on his own.

  I go into the house and up to my room as quickly as my clumsy feet will let me, and I crawl between my sheets, with the world spinning a little bit around me. I hope right up until I start to drift off to sleep that Mom won’t decide to come into my room and interrogate me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  HARPER POLSEN

  I don’t have as bad a hangover the next morning as I used to get sometimes when I went out partying, but I’m definitely glad to have my own bathroom. I take a quick shower, change into some real clothes, and brush my teeth, all the normal things.

  And then I can’t avoid my mother anymore and I know it. I leave my room, hoping against hope that at least I’m not going to face Mom and Bev and Nolan and Dad, all arranged in the living room or something, waiting to scold me.

  Mom’s in the kitchen with Dad nowhere in sight, and she looks up when I come in. Her expression isn’t very cheerful and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to enjoy whatever it is she has to say, but I know that at this point we might as well talk about it and get it over with.

  “Can I at least get some coffee before you lay into me?”

  Mom points to the pot, still a little less than half full, next to the sink, and I move about the kitchen grabbing a mug, filling it with coffee, adding some sugar and milk, and stirring it more than it needs before I take my first sip.

  “Your father had to run to the office, so I figured we could get this out of the way before he comes back. Clear the air, so to speak,” Mom says.

  I shrug, since that was more than I’d hoped for, and take another sip of my coffee. I grab a cranberry-orange scone and a napkin, and follow her to the table.

  “First of all, I’d like to point out that I’m an adult, and that I wasn’t doing anything illegal or wrong last night,” I say.

  “I’m aware that you didn’t break any laws last night. You’re over twenty-one. Both of you are single. Technically what you were up to wasn’t even immoral,” Mom says.

  “Here’s where the ‘but’ comes in,” I say, breaking off a piece of the scone and putting it in my mouth.

  “I want you to really think about what you were up to, and what you’re trying to accomplish,” Mom says.

  “What I was up to was fooling around with a hot guy, and as for what I was trying to accomplish…” I have another bite of my scone and chase it with a big gulp of coffee. “I mean, I would think that’s obvious.”

  “You’re not in college anymore,” Mom says.

  “I think that’s apparent,” I tell her.

  “You’re not in college anymore. You’re an adult, and you need to start looking for someone to settle down with,” she continues, as if I didn’t interrupt her.

  I don’t really say anything to that, instead just continuing to eat my scone and drink my coffee. I’ve gotten these lectures before, and I know there’s not a whole lot of point in arguing with Mom until she’s said her piece.

  “I want to see you in a stable relationship with someone who can give you, and your career, the kind of support you need. I want to see you with someone who’s serious the way you are and who you can count on to be there for you,” she says.

  I can’t keep letting her talk. I finish the scone and drink a sip of coffee to clear my mouth and set the mug down. “But what if that isn’t what I want right now?”

  I look around the house. My parents got married right out of college, and Mom already had me by the time she was the age I am now.

  “Zane is practically a sibling to you,” Mom says, sighing. I cringe at the way she put it.

  “Well, if he’s practically a sibling to me, he’s practically a son to you, however, that didn’t stop you ogling him and commenting on how hot he is a few days ago,” I point out. The words are out of me before I can even decide whether they’re a good idea or not.

  “You grew up with him. He’s like a brother to you,” Mom continues.

  “But we’re not related,” I insist.

  “Even if that weren’t an issue, there’s the fact that he’s due to reenlist in a couple of months once his tour of duty is over,” Mom says.

  I almost wish I’d chosen water instead of coffee. The caffeine is starting to kick in, at least a little bit, and my stomach is not all that happy with just a scone and some caffeine in it.

  “What does that have to do with anything? And anyway, he doesn’t even know whether or not he’s going to reenlist.” I stop short, I was going to tell her that her point was moot, since I wasn’t even really looking for a relationship with Zane. Why didn’t I just say that then?

  “There’s no future in any kind of relationship with Zane, and fooling around with him like this is going to put a strain on everyone,” Mom says.

  “How is it going to put a strain on anyone?” I stare at her in amazement. She was somehow making Zane and me doing something together into a whole-family situation?

  “Things are inevitably going to get awkward between you and him if you don’t nip it in the bud. Then once it becomes clear that there’s something going on between the two of you, something that went bad, there’s going to be all the awkwardness between his parents and your dad and me,” Mom says.

  For a few moments all I can do is stare at her. I’m so taken aback by what she’s saying that it’s hard to even process what it was that she said.

  “First of all, I never said that I’m even interested in a relationship with him,” I say. I try to get my wheeling and spinning thoughts to focus.

  “Look, sweetie, you and Zane are just different kinds of people,” Mom says. That comment stirs something in me and suddenly instead of feeling anxious, or annoyed, I’m feeling hurt and angry.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he’s still in that ‘rack ‘em up’ phase of his life where his only goal is how many girls he can get with, and all you’ll be to him is another notch on his belt,” she pauses. “But you’re the smart girl, the career-minded girl, the one who’s going to really make something of herself. You need to be smart enough not to get all wrapped up in some guy who’s just going to forget about you as soon as you’re gone again,” Mom’s voice is consoling, but the words she’s saying are just like throwing kerosene on a fire that I’m starting to feel.

  “I can’t believe this. I really can’t. You’re basically saying that because Zane is some kind of man-slut, I need to be the sensible one and not do anything with him or… I don’t even know what
you think the downside of this is for me, other than that apparently I’m some lonely-heart virgin or something,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Sweetie, it’s just that I know both of you. You’re not, either of you, made for a long-distance relationship,” Mom insists.

  Before I even really know what I’m doing, I’m on my feet.

  “I’m done talking about this,” I say. “I really don’t want to hear another word out of you about Zane, or me, or… or how Zane and me having a little fun is going to somehow ruin your friendship with Bev and Nolan.”

  I hurry to my room, not even listening for Mom to call me back, not paying any attention to anything other than the need to get my purse and get the hell out of the house, as far away as I can go.

  Mom tries to catch me at the front door, but I bark something about how if she tries to keep me from leaving the house I will absolutely call the police and have them be the reason the family is scandalized. It’s a stupid threat and I know it, but it gets me through the door.

  Then I’m in my car, pulling out of the driveway, and turning onto the street to get as far away as I can as quickly as I can.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ZANE LEWIS

  I see Harper bolt out of her house, and guess that she and Nadine have been talking about what her mom saw the night before.

  Obviously that went well.

  As far as I know, my mom and dad still have no clue what Harper and I were up to, but it’s really only a matter of time.

  The way that Harper throws herself into her car and the way the tires squeal on the pavement from how fast she pulls out tells me that she’s not in the best state of mind, and some deep instinct rises up in me. I have to follow her, even if I’m not all that sure that I’m the person she wants to see right now.

  I tell Mom I’ll be back in a bit without telling her where I’m going. She doesn’t much care, since she’s busy with putting things away from the party, and doesn’t even ask any questions as I head out the door to my rental.

  If I was Harper, where would I go? She’s driven away too fast for me to realistically follow her. I’ll have to make a few guesses.

  I decide quickly that she’s probably not at the library, one of the few of her favorite places that I can remember from when we were in high school. I try to look for her car at the bars I pass by, but I don’t see it anywhere.

  Finally inspiration strikes and I decide that it’s worth at least checking the lake.

  I pull into the parking area next to the lake, and her car is the only one there. Of course, she’s not in the car, and for a second I actually feel my worry increase. I have to hope she didn’t do anything too stupid. I park and get out of my car, and start towards the shoreline, looking for Harper.

  She sees me before I see her. So much for my military training. I see she’s been crying, her face is red, but she actually somehow manages to look cuter than I’ve ever seen her, vulnerable in a way that the Harper I knew in high school never let herself be. But she also looks angry.

  “What are you doing here, Zane?”

  I wonder if Harper came out here for the purpose of screaming where no one can hear her, her voice is pretty hoarse.

  “I saw you leave,” I reply.

  “Mom and I got into a fight, and I just… I couldn’t even be around to listen to her anymore,” Harper says, shaking her head and sounding so exhausted I have to wonder how she has the energy to be so angry.

  “What were you fighting about?” I know it has to be about Nadine finding us in the yard the night before, but I can’t really figure how that conversation could lead to Harper storming off and driving away to the lake.

  “You, mostly,” Harper says, her voice almost sarcastic.

  “What were you fighting about me for?” I want to know whatever it is that has Harper so upset, what her mom could have possibly said.

  “She went on and on about how it’s wrong for you and I to have anything to do with each other. How we’re practically siblings, and that I’m probably just one of dozens. Things like that. And she said that I shouldn’t ruin things between my parents and your parents when I need to start thinking about settling down,” she lets it all spill out.

  It’s a lot to take in, and I think about it for a moment or two, trying to sort through what the hell is going on.

  “Your mom’s not entirely wrong, at least on a couple of things,” I say finally.

  Harper’s eyes widen and I know that look. I’ve seen it. I saw it when the kids in middle school pushed her to the breaking point with the teasing, when I was too much of a coward to stand up for her.

  I had said exactly the wrong thing, and now I am about to pay for it.

  “What do you mean she’s not entirely wrong?”

  I try to think, to think fast enough to diffuse this bomb that apparently the girl in front of me has been all along.

  “I mean, hell, we both agreed that we probably shouldn’t have done what we did the night before,” I tell her.

  “Oh, oh, so I’m just a notch on your belt now, and you’re worried just like my mom is that having had sex with me is going to cause drama between your parents and my parents,” she says.

  “What? Where did that come from?” I don’t even know what she means by being a notch in my belt. I mean, I know the saying, but what does that have to do with what we’ve been up to? It isn’t like I keep score.

  “You said my mom wasn’t wrong, and what she said is that all you’re looking for is an easy lay, so is that what I am to you?”

  “An easy lay? Come on, Harper,” I say. I know I’m doing this all wrong, but I can’t stop the words coming out of my mouth. “You are not an easy lay.”

  “So how long have you been waiting to add me to your score card, huh?”

  “I don’t keep score,” I tell her, trying to keep my nerves in check, trying not to let her escalate the situation. My drill instructor in basic was big on the non-escalation techniques, but somehow when it comes to Harper all that training goes out of the window.

  “Look, Zane, I knew you slept around. I know that about you. I’m not stupid. And it’s not like I even care, since, like we both talked about last night, it’s not like this is going anywhere. But you could at least be honest with me,” she says.

  “Honest about what? All I said was I can see your mom’s point about certain things,” I say.

  “Forget it,” Harper tells me. She shakes her head and turns away from me, and I see her reach into her purse for her keys.

  “Harper, don’t drive off like this. You’re upset,” I say.

  “Like you even care,” she counters, and when I try to make a grab for her wrist, to keep her there at the lake with me, she nearly twists her arm into injury to get free of my grip.

  I could hold onto her, I could force her to hurt herself, which would, likely as not, make her have to stay and calm down, but I don’t want her to break her wrist or tear a ligament, so I just let her go. Harper bolts to her car, and pulls out of the parking lot at the lake.

  All I can think to do is sit down. She’s obviously not going to want me to talk to her, to follow her. All I can do is hope she doesn’t get into a wreck, and that she finds somewhere to go cool off for a bit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  HARPER POLSEN

  I drive around for a while, playing Hot Hot Heat at full blast, and trying to figure out where in the town I can actually go to where I won’t have to deal with anyone. I know I was probably overreacting to what Zane said, but with so much going on, and with him being such a bonehead, I couldn’t stand being around anyone, especially him, for even a moment longer.

  I decide that maybe the pitching and rolling of my stomach will calm down if I put something more than coffee and a pastry in it. I pull into a McDonald’s and manage to keep my twisting, turning feelings in check for a few minutes. I order a ten-piece chicken nugget meal with large fries and a drink, knowing better than to add any caffeine to my already-amp
ed system.

  I pull my car over into a strip mall parking lot and keep my music going as I eat, shoving salty, delicious fries into my mouth, taking sips of my drink and eating the chicken nuggets as if they have some kind of mysterious healing power. As if my life depends on wolfing down the food as fast as humanly possible.

  I do feel a little bit better, not much, but a little, once I’ve reached the end of the fries, and I can think about things a little more objectively.

  I’m still mad at my mom, and definitely still mad at Zane, but at least I’m not furious to the point where I’m a danger to the people around me.

  “Okay, so obviously nothing is going to happen between Zane and me, nothing more than what already has,” I say out loud to myself. And obviously even if things weren’t going to be tense the way that we’d left them the night before, they were definitely going to be tense now after the argument Zane and I had.

  My phone buzzes, and I look at the screen. It’s a text message from my mother.

  Are you okay? Please let me know you’re not dead in a car accident or something, sweetie.

  For a second my mood wavers between guilt and anger.

  I’m fine, Mom. Be home in a bit.

  That’s as much as I want to tell her, and as much as I think she deserves to know right now. The question that really weighs on my mind is the issue of the big project I have waiting for me. I’m supposed to leave to go back to Brooklyn, back to my normal life, in a little over two days. The office wants me to come home even sooner than that.

  I could probably tell my mother about the call, and explain that I need to take the opportunity to get back to work, and put the whole sordid mess with Zane behind me. She might even support me about it, even if it makes things a little bit awkward with Bev and Nolan at the dinner we’re supposed to have. I could leave now and be in Brooklyn tonight, and forget I ever did anything at all with Zane Lewis.