Harper's Rules 1 & 2

Chapter 11: Harper

A/N: Mature content.

An hour away from UCLA, I hadn't recovered from the PTSD of Jake's stupid face with his backwards hat billboard. Similarly, and almost strategically placed, billboards greeted me along Highway 405 like some terrible upcoming attraction's announcement.

Desperate for a distraction, I pushed the audio-to-text button on my dashboard screen.

me: Almost there. 1hr left.

Dad: Wow, I just passed the Exit for 166. Take it easy, lead foot.

I just shook my head at Dad's message, then sent one to Ellie.

me: If I took a shot for every one of your brother's fugly billboards I've seen, then I'd be dead drunk in a ditch by now.

A few minutes later, my phone chimed with a response that my car nicely read out to me.

Ellie: Sorry. You should see Logan's.
Ellie: [ image attached ]

I burst into loud laughter and nearly dragged my car into the on ramp's ditch at the picture she'd sent in return. Logan's handsome features were on full display, short blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, his bulging biceps and forearms crossed over his UW purple and gold Huskies jersey. His picture was handsome but the caption next to him erupted loud laughs from my mouth.

Current PAC-12 North Champions. Number ten in the program, number one in Seattle's heart: Logan Hightower.

Whenever I saw or heard from Ellie, a small part of my subconscious gave thanks that I wasn't in high school anymore.

Worst four years of my life.

All of that shit-show was silenced once I slid that graduation cap tassel from one side to the other like some fabric windshield wiper that gets way too overanalyzed like a metaphor, like I'd turned the pages to start a new chapter in my book of life, then I threw away my hat into the air-tossed pile. I never got my cap back, but couldn't have cared less.

Like now...

I crunched my boot heel foot down onto the accelerator, revved up the on ramp, and slipped in front of some soccer Mom's minivan. A soft snort left my mouth as I left her pissed off expression in my rearview mirror and turned up my radio volume as the chords for Pink's "U + Ur Hand" started up.

Perfect.

Through the car's voice-to-text option, I messaged Ellie back.

me: Got me there. That's definitely worse.

Ellie: I feel silly but miss you already. Even when you push me out of my comfort zone. LA is so far away.

A slight shudder went through me at the idea that Ellie and I were college roommates. She'd have driven me insane as she cooked four-star meals on a hotplate and got irritated by my antics with boys.

We would've ended up as friends that roomed together, then never spoke again.

Still, no other person existed on this planet that I fought for, no person I defended harder, and most of the time no one I put first than Ellie. Her gigantic, naïve heart captured anyone who had the privilege of knowing her and was welcomed into her inner circle. Because of shit Ellie never deserved, which included my and Jake's involvement behind her back, her heart closed. Thankfully, once the gigantic sap of a football player Logan reopened it last year, she loved unconditionally.

Even though I don't deserve it sometimes, I'll still take full credit for their cute-meet.

After Jake abandoned me in his bad morning after, I took a walk of shame within my own fucking house. With way too much soul-searching for my own taste, I armed myself with a new ammunition of rules against the male teenage population in Santa Cruz. The details blurred in my mind like the highway lane separator lines the longer I drove south to Los Angeles, but at the time I'd hoped that I started my senior year of high school with a sense of self-empowerment and more control exerted over my traitorous vagina.