then she snuck a closer peek at the phone, wondering what sort of nasty things Harper had been texting about her to her friends.
When she saw the name on the contact info, though, Valentine dropped all pretense at peeking and she picked up the phone. “BOYFI ARI” was the name at the top of the chat bubble.
“Boyfi”? As in boyfriend? Jesus, this chick doesn't handle rejection well.
And as Valentine scrolled through the texts, that became more and more apparent. In the hour Harper had been on her phone, she'd sent forty-two text messages to Ari. Forty-two messages, but not a response in sight. Except for the one she'd just received when she'd left the table. Valentine scrolled back down to it.
I'm blocking you. Lose this number. And if you call my father again, I'll get a restraining order. Imagine your dad hearing about that when he goes to work some day.
She couldn't believe it. Harper was beyond crazy – she was basically a legit stalker. She'd been calling Ari's father? Who did that? If Val had been nervous about Harper finding out her and Ari before, now she was downright terrified. There was no telling what lengths the blonde would go to in order to make Valentine's life miserable.
And poor Ari. He may be an asshole about 90% of the time, but no one should have to deal with crazy-pants over there.
Suddenly she heard the toilet flush, and she fumbled with the phone, dropping it loudly on the table top. She winced, snatched it up again, powered off the screen, then quickly put it back where it had been just in time before Harper opened the bathroom door.
“You're right,” the blonde was prattling. “We're just stressed. People like us would never go into business together, it's a ridiculous assignment. I'm going to have Daddy call the school, maybe see if he can get us reassigned.”
Valentine gaped up at her.
“Are you serious?” she finally asked. “Harper, you're ... what? Twenty-two? Three?”
The other girl smiled big at her. It was her first time smiling at Val, and it was honesty a little scary.
“Twenty-six,” she corrected her, and Valentine's jaw dropped even further. It was only Harper's second year in design school, why had she started so late?
“Okay, twenty-six,” she sighed. “And you're going to call your 'daddy' to complain to your college professor for you? C'mon, we're adults, and we don't have that-that much longer to go.”
“Of course you don't get it,” Harper groaned. “It's just how things are done when you're on my level. But fine, whatever, you're right, we don't have that much longer. Just ... make sure everything looks good and I get a good grade, okay?”
Apparently this was Valentine's project, now. She wondered if that meant she didn't have to come over anymore. It would be a lot of work, but she'd gladly take it on if it meant she didn't have to come to Harper's home again.
“So does this mean we don't have to have our Tuesday-Thursday get togethers anymore?” she checked, starting to collect all her paperwork. Harper snorted.
“Are you kidding? And let you run this whole thing into the ground? No, I still need to give final approval on everything. So you better be here on Thursday.”
Valentine ground her teeth together as she started shoving everything into her bag. But then she saw Ari's scarf laying at the bottom, and it brought a smile to her lips.
Okay, Harper, fine. I will be here next Thursday. And then right after working with you, I'm gonna go to the guy you're stalking and I'm going to fuck him better than you ever could, and then I'm going to make him forget you ever even existed. You can have your stupid project done for free – I'll have your man.
15
Valentine loved the dress Ari got for her.
It was floor length with the tiniest of trains – it swept around her when she spun in a circle. The black material clung to her body and her curves, covering her from her collar bone to her toes, the wrist-length sleeves suck tight to her skin. Very, very demure from the front, like a sexy funeral frock.
The back however, was downright scandalous. Mostly because it didn't exist. Bare all the way across her shoulders and clear down to her hips, riding dangerously low on her butt. She practiced sitting down in front of mirror, double checking that she wouldn't be showing anything more than she wanted to from the back.
It was