The Love Letter Wasn't for Him

Sit on a guy's lap for ten seconds. That was my dare at the mixer. And the guy calling me over was someone I'd barely spoken to in all four years of high school. "Harriet.

Come here." In the private room, he tapped his thigh. Through the fabric, Anson's leg was shockingly hot.

I didn't dare put my full weight down, but any time I shifted even a little, the already dangerous distance between us got even smaller.

Anson eased back a bit. "What are you scared of?" His eyes were on my lips.

He swallowed. "You were pretty bold that time in high school, weren't you?" Chapter 1 "Harriet, draw one!" When the deck of cards landed in front of me, I was starting to regret coming to this mixer.

There were twentysome people crammed into the private room, and the music was loud. The table was piled with snacks and drinks.

Guys and girls were squeezed in together, playing King's Game, a truthordare spin where whoever drew the king got to give the orders.

And I was tucked into the farthest corner, where I'd been working hard to be invisible for almost an hour. But my roommate, Poppy, wouldn't let me off the hook.

She shoved a card right into my hand. "You're already here.

No playing dead." My voice was tiny. "Can I just take a drink instead?" "Nope." "But if I drink, I'll end up dancing in the middle of the street." I grumbled as I flipped my card over, resigned.

The guy who'd drawn the king slapped the table, thrilled. "I'm the King!" "Number seven gets a dare!" "Pick anyone of the opposite sex in this room and sit on their lap… for ten seconds!" I rubbed my eyes and looked at the card in my hand.

The seven of hearts?! The whole room instantly started whooping. I gripped the card, my ears slowly burning.

If I'd known this was the kind of club mixer Poppy meant, nothing on earth could have gotten me here. "Hattie, just pick one." Poppy egged me on from beside me.

I forced myself to look up. When my gaze passed over the couch diagonally across from me, it caught for a second. Anson. Of all the guys here, he was the only one I knew.

We'd been in the same grade all through high school, and yet we'd barely said a few words to each other. Short black hair, the front strands falling loose over his forehead.

Pale, cooltoned skin. Broad shoulders, long legs. He was sunk lazily into the couch, one long leg casually bent. Someone that popular was welcome anywhere he went.

So when I spotted him at the club mixer tonight, my first instinct was to pretend I didn't know him.

After all, even though we'd been in the same grade in high school, we really weren't close at all. He probably didn't want to make small talk with me either.

Still, Anson didn't seem any different from how I remembered him. Six foot two, and he looked cocky and hard to get along with.

He'd barely played any of the games since he walked in. When everyone else got rowdy, he just sat there and listened.

When someone talked to him, he'd answer with a word or two now and then. His voice was lazy. Like nothing could hold his interest.

But even so, people kept trying to get the seat next to him. In just one hour, a third girl had already gone over to ask for his number.

Anson just kept his eyes down. "Sorry." A clean no, without even a sliver of room for misunderstanding. I quietly looked away. Anson came from money.

He had the grades, and he had the looks. Of course he was popular. He'd been like that in high school, too. He seemed like someone born to stand at the center of a crowd.

And I wasn't. I lowered my head, and my hand hesitantly started to reach toward the guy who looked the easiest to get along with.

But then a voice suddenly came from diagonally across the room. "Harriet." The whole room went quiet for a moment. I froze too. Anson looked up.

Chapter 2 He was still holding his phone, its screen faintly lit, and his dark eyes landed squarely on me from across half the table. Then he raised his hand.

His knuckles tapped his thigh twice. His voice was flat, neither warm nor cold. "Come here." My mind went blank for a few seconds.

The people around me lost it first. "Holy shit, you know Anson?!" On instinct, I clutched the hem of my shirt.

All through high school, the words Anson and I had exchanged probably didn't add up to ten sentences. Did that count as knowing him? Maybe he could tell how awkward I felt.

Anson's tone was cool. "We went to high school together." Someone teased, laughing, "You went to high school together all those years, and we didn't see you two say hi earlier?" I got even more embarrassed.

Why? Because I'd been pretending not to know him. As for why Anson hadn't talked to me, it was probably because we really weren't close. Anson ignored their heckling.

His dark eyes stayed on me. "Come here." I had no choice but to walk over. The closer I got, the more I regretted it.

I stood in front of him, and he lifted his eyes to look at me. "Sit." I looked at his legs and didn't move. "Anson Vance, I…" Anson paused.

Then he leaned back a little, leaving me some room. "It's just a game." He lowered his voice. "Scared of me?" "Nno." I turned around and made myself sit down on his lap.

I didn't dare put my full weight down. I was barely touching his leg.

People around us started heckling right away. "That counts as sitting?" "Harriet, you're cheating!" My face flushed hot, and the heat crept up to my ears.

Something darkened in Anson's eyes, and he glanced up. He looked their way, light and unhurried, and said nothing. The few people who'd been making the most noise actually shut up.

Nobody dared keep watching. Our corner went frighteningly quiet. Someone started the countdown. "Ten." "Nine." I'd never known ten seconds could be so slow.

My heart was pounding so hard it was practically in my throat. I could hear my own breathing very clearly. And Anson's. Too close. His leg was hard.

Even through two layers of fabric, I could feel his heat so clearly I couldn't sit still. Especially since any time I shifted even a little, the distance got even more dangerous.

I went rigid right away. Anson didn't move either. I dug my nails into my palm, and Anson pulled back a little. Finally, I couldn't feel his heat quite so clearly.

Anson swallowed softly. "Why are you shaking?" I tried hard to keep my voice steady. "I—I'm not." "Mm." Anson looked down at me. "Then I guess I'm the one shaking." I blinked and looked at him without thinking.

The corner of Anson's mouth tipped up, just faintly.

Like he'd finally tricked me into looking up, and his mood had suddenly improved. "Five." The countdown was almost over. "Four." I could barely stay seated. "Three." Anson's jaw brushed my temple.

I flinched to the side on instinct. He went still. "Harriet." I tipped my head up slightly. "Hm?" "What are you scared of?" His voice was very low, like it was meant for me alone.

Before I could react, Anson's gaze had already drifted slowly down to my waist.

It stayed there for two seconds, and then he asked, "You were pretty bold that time in high school, weren't you?" I froze. "What?" Before Anson could answer, the timer beside us stopped.

Ten seconds were up. I shot up off his lap almost instantly. Anson didn't stop me. He just sat there, unhurriedly picked up his water, and took a sip.

Chapter 3 But that one line of his suddenly brought back senior year. It had been raining that day, too. It was the first time my dad ever came to school looking for me.

I'd won $1,500 in prize money at a competition, and he stood outside the science building, frowning, rushing me. "Your brother needs to sign up for tutoring." "You're a girl.

All this studying won't do you any good." "Hurry up and hand it over. Don't be so selfish." I clutched that prize check for a long time before I handed it to him.

After he left, I stayed alone in the science building for a long time. It was pouring outside. I didn't want to go back to class. I was afraid people would see I'd been crying.

And of course, on my way downstairs, I ran into Anson, right when I was at my most pathetic. He was walking toward me with a few other guys.

He was tall even then, his Tshirt hanging loose on him, a basketball tucked under one arm. His hair was a little damp, like he'd just come back from a game.

The guy next to him was laughing as he asked, "Vance, you seriously won a full ride to a top school off that competition and you're not taking it?" "Nope." "Why not?" Anson drawled, "Don't feel like it.

It's boring." My steps faltered. In that moment, for the first time, it hit me very clearly that Anson and I were different.

The things I clung to with everything I had might be things he could toss away without a thought. I lowered my head and tried to slip past them.

As we passed each other, Anson suddenly stopped. His voice was cool. "Harriet." I stiffened for a second and looked up.

He glanced at my eyes. "Were you crying?" The guys with him looked over too.

I was mortified. "Nno." "Then why are your eyes red?" I struggled for a long moment. "The rain got in them." Somebody couldn't hold back a laugh. "Wow, Prez, who knew you were this funny?" But Anson didn't laugh.

His eyes went cold. He only glanced back once, and the guy's laughter cut off instantly.

Then Anson looked at me again. "Where's your umbrella?" "I didn't bring one." Anson held his umbrella out to me. I hesitated, afraid to take it. "Nno, it's fine.

If you give it to me, what are you going to do?" Anson had his hands in his pockets, not especially bothered.

His tone was careless. "Someone's picking me up." But the guys beside him suddenly had strange looks on their faces, like they wanted to say something and thought better of it.

I didn't notice. I just took the umbrella and said a quiet thankyou. When I took it, my fingers accidentally brushed his.

Anson suddenly went still, and his eyes darkened several shades.

I thought he didn't like people touching him, so I pulled my hand back right away. "Sorry." He stared at his own hand for two seconds.

His voice was husky. "It's fine." That was the most outofbounds contact Anson and I had ever had, as far as I remembered.

So when he said just now that I'd been pretty bold that time in high school… Was that what he meant? But I'd only brushed his hand. How was that bold?

After a moment's hesitation, I asked him, "Anson Vance, that time in high school you mentioned…" He looked down and raised an eyebrow. "You remember?" I nodded and said quietly, "Was it at the science building, when you lent me your umbrella?" Anson was quiet for two seconds.

Then he let out an exasperated laugh. After a long moment, he leaned down, his dark eyes on me.

His voice was pitched very low. "Harriet." "Exactly how much have you forgotten?" I was stunned. If it wasn't that time, then what time was it? I was about to ask.

Then the phone on the table lit up. It was Anson's. Messages popped up one after another. [Vance, how'd it go today?

Prez still hasn't remembered?] Chapter 4 [Don't tell me you still have that love letter from junior year?] Anson's expression shifted slightly, and he reached out and flipped the phone face down.

But I'd already seen it. A love letter? What love letter? In that moment, I forgot to be scared.

I looked up and asked pointblank, "Anson Vance, did I write you a love letter?" Anson was silent for a few seconds, then looked away from me, uncomfortable. "No.

It wasn't for me." I was about to breathe a sigh of relief. "Oh, good." But then Anson gave a soft scoff.

He added, "You wrote it to someone else." His eyes were inkblack, with a trace of selfmockery in them. "It's with me." My