Letting Go (2 page)

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“I can imagine how it’s the perfect city for lovers,” Isabelle said, realizing too late that perhaps she should’ve kept that to herself.

“Is that so?”

She just gave him a look and he grinned. She imagined Harper would have fit perfectly in Paris. He knew how to enjoy life; he’d be more Parisian than Parisians.

“Did you get your feed of the delicious food the French are
famous for?”

“I mostly ate sandwiches,
so I guess that’s a no.”

He looked appalled at her. “Tell me, please, that you’
re joking.”

“
I spent most of my time in the galleries. Louvre, Orangerie, Les Invalides ... I was there for the art, not the food.”

Harper
nearly choked on the absurdity of her explanation. “Louvre’s got several—I repeat,
several
—outstanding restaurants and cafes. And there’s more to art than the scrawls of bearded, moldy old men. Food
is
art, Isabelle.”

She was amused by his outburst. He seemed shocked, insulted even, that she
paid so little attention to something that he obviously thought important.

“Food is su
stenance. If it tastes good, fine. If it doesn’t, you swallow it,” she said to tease him.

He
groaned and shook his head, staring at her for a long moment, mindless of the road. Isabelle was grateful the traffic on I-75 was light.

“Next time you go to Paris, it will be with me. And you’ll be a good girl and do what
I tell you to do.”

He sounded serious,
as if there might be a chance for that to actually happen.

“You’ve been to Paris?”
She didn’t know how else to respond to his words.

He didn’t reply, just kept shaking his head and occasionally
glancing at her disapprovingly.

“
Jamie never told me.”

“He doesn’t know.”

“How come?” After almost a year, she still couldn’t figure them out as brothers. She knew Jamie well and she thought she was beginning to get to know Harper, too, but the two of them together ... They were a mystery. There were moments when she could’ve sworn that they hated each other. Then there were others, when it was obvious that they were bound by deep love like only brothers can be. It was baffling. She thought she found it so confusing because she didn’t have siblings, but with time it became clear that Jamie and Harper weren’t like other siblings that she knew.

“You’re forgetting we’re
not on the best of terms, Jamie and I.”

Now
that she was asking the questions, he was avoiding looking at her.

“About that
—how come you moved in with him anyway? You keep saying you can’t stand him, but you’re there, living at his place, and it looks like you have no intention of going anywhere. Why?”

He looked at her and his face brightened
with a grin. “I heard he has a hot girlfriend so I decided to check her out.”

She rolled her eyes and looked through the side window.
She hated it when Harper was teasing her, it made her feel naïve and unsophisticated. What she hated more was when she asked him an important question and he replied with a joke. She felt like he wasn’t taking
her
seriously, and that bothered her.

“I’m
not hot,” she said, because she didn’t want him to have the last word.

“Depends on the definition of
hotness,” he said.

She chuckled humorlessly. “
Is that so?”

“Don’t you agree
?”

She was sorry she
hadn’t let it go. Discussing beauty standards with Harper was making her feel a fool. An unattractive fool.

S
he kept quiet and stared out the side window because she could feel his eyes on her. She was hoping he would let it go.

“
Isabelle.”

“What?” she said
a little rudely, still not looking at him.

“I think you’re attractive.”

“Sure you do.”

Letting go of the steering wheel, he lifted his hands in the air as a sign of exasperation, or
maybe disbelief. Then he said, “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because
I know I’m not your type. Now, can we not talk about this anymore? Please?” She was embarrassed. This was not a conversation she had ever envisioned having with Harper. What he thought was not supposed to matter.

“Not my type?”

“Please! I’ve seen your girlfriends.”

“What have they got to do
with anything?” He looked at her, frowning.

“They all loo
k like supermodels. They have curves. Like Claudia. From Susana’s Hair Heaven salon? She looks as if she was airbrushed. In real life.” Isabelle had always been self-conscious about being flat as a board. No matter how much she ate or exercised, she never gained any curves. At eighteen, she looked like a ten-year-old. Curvy, feminine Chloe had to put up with her constant complaining about it.

“Airheaded, maybe. And they’re not my girlfriends. For that
, I’d have to date them for longer than a day.”

“Have you ever?”

“Dated anyone?” There was a long pause before he went on. “In high school. Her name was Marie. She was plump, short and had short brown hair. Almost as short as yours.”

Isabelle touched her dark blond
pixie cut when he looked at her, then quickly lowered her hand to her lap.

“
She excelled at playing Doom and Wolfenstein and she was a tremendous kisser.”

H
e looked at her with a proud grin. “See? I believe in beauty being deeper than skin.”

She was tempted to roll her eyes again. “
Harper, that’s like ... at least five years ago. I wouldn’t feel so proud about it if I were you.”

The grin slipped
. He busied himself scanning to a different radio station when the music turned to static.

“It’s difficult to meet anyone nice when you have a brother like
Jamie.”

Isabelle
didn’t understand what Jamie had to do with anything. When Harper answered, she realized she said that out loud.

“He’s perfection itself. Who in their right mind would ever choose to be with m
e when the other option was Jamie?”

Isabelle
laughed, then, incredulous, fell silent when she saw he meant it. “You’re not serious, are you?”

Harper
with his eyes the color of bitter chocolate, the lean body, dark silky hair, and the face that was almost too pretty for a man. Even she had to admit he was well put-together. And there was something about him, something that had both captivated and annoyed her since the moment she first saw him. Maybe it was that he was so sure of himself, that he was one of the rare people she knew who didn’t care about being friendly or polite. Maybe his attractiveness was in the wicked smirk, in the fact that she never knew what to expect from him, that she sometimes thought he didn’t care the least bit about Jamie or her or anyone.

But
she had quickly learned that it was the kind of attraction that was bound to destroy her if she ever gave in, the kind she perhaps even enjoyed a little, but knew better than to act on it. So she pushed it to the back of her mind and refused to ponder it.

“Why did
you choose him, then?” Harper asked, with a challenge in his voice.

Isabelle couldn’t believe th
at they were discussing this half an hour into their ride. She was afraid of what would come next.

“I didn’t even know you when
I met him. I didn’t know he had a brother.”

“Let me rephrase
it—why are you choosing him over me?”

“I’m ...” She looked at her hands in
her lap. The bracelet that Jamie had given her for her birthday glittered even in the cloudy dusk.

“It doesn’t work like that.
I can’t change boyfriends every time I meet someone new. I love Jamie.”

“Let us suppose
—” Harper stopped her with his raised hand when she was about to protest. Isabelle knew that every time he started a sentence with ‘let’s suppose’ it ended up being another preposterous idea.

“
Suppose you met us at the same time ...”

“But
I didn’t.”

“Humo
r me, Isabelle. You can do that much for me, can’t you?”

She lifted her hands
, exasperated.

“If you’d met us both at the same time, who would you choose? Be honest.”

“Do you realize how many ifs there are here? You’re asking me to ignore everything I know about Jamie, or you, to ignore everything I came to love about him, to forget the past two years and make a decision based on this delusion?”

“You don’t have to be s
o analytical about it. Answer from the heart,” he mocked.

“
Jamie. I’d choose Jamie.”

She could tell that her instant answer took him aback. He smirked
, but she could see that flash of surprise, maybe even of a hurt ego, on his face.

“He comes off as a nicer guy,
because he’s kind and attentive, Harper. He opens the door for me and carries my school bag.”

“I opened the door for you today, didn’t I?” He sounded petulant
, and she smiled a little at his reaction.

“
The first time I met you, do you remember what you said to me?” She felt resentment just remembering the time Jamie had first introduced her to his older brother.

“Er, no?” He flashed her a grin.

“Nothing. You ignored me, but you said to Jamie that once he’s done with me, you could use me for an hour or two.” She raised her eyebrows at him, and he shrugged in reply.

“You can’t expect girls to fall for you when you act like that.
A least not decent ones.” She sounded moralizing even to herself. She cringed.

“I was pissed at
Jamie.”

“You’re always pissed at someone. I’m beginning to wonder if it isn’t yourself that you’re pissed at and you’re taking it out on the rest of us.”

His silence lasted too long. Isabelle couldn’t help but look at him. He looked younger somehow, a bit lost. He always seemed a lot older and more mature than his age, but not now. She regretted hurting him, but he’d asked her to be honest. Maybe just not so direct. She wanted to make it right. Besides, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that what she said wasn’t the truth. Not all of it, in any case.

“
There’s something about you, though.” She sighed. “You grew on me,” she said, fidgeting with her bracelet. “You’re not
all
bad.”

Startled,
Harper glanced at her. His lips spread into a smug smirk. Isabelle was on the brink of being annoyed with his reaction, but there was a knot of warm feelings in her stomach that she couldn’t ignore. She suspected he had tricked her into her admission, but she didn’t mind.

“Still, don’t go into PR, you’d flop.
You’ve got no people skills.”

He
grinned, and then a moment later changed the subject and asked, “So you want to study art?”

His question surprised her. She’d never discussed
her study or career choice with him. “Did Jamie tell you?”

“And the fact that you neglected the be
st Parisian restaurants in favor of the musty galleries gave it away.”

She smiled. “You have no idea how much beauty there is in those musty places.”

“I have
some
idea.”

“Do you?” she asked.

“I’m not as ignorant as you think. Except when it comes to abstract expressionism. Pollock’s colorful, but I don’t get him.”

“I’m surprised,” she said appreciatively.

“Does that get me any points?” he asked, mock serious.

“Hm ... Okay, you get one point.”

“One?”

“And even that only because I don’t like Pollock either.”

“I deserve at least ten,” he complained.

“What do you need the points for
, anyway?” she said, playing along.

He shrugged. “
As proof that you like me.” There was a grin on his lips, but his eyes looked serious.

“I do like you.” She sounded too
eager, she thought, scolding herself.

“You do?”

Trying to correct the impression, she nodded vaguely. “Sure.”

“Ah.”

“What?”

“You like me but you don’t
like
me.”

“Er ... what?”
She knew what he meant. She wished he would not go there again. She was getting physically tired from the teasing because it meant that she had to be alert and careful about what she said. She didn’t want to give him the impression that she was into him, when she was not, but she didn’t want to make him feel bad, either. She hated hurting anyone, and she and Harper had become friendly in the past few months. She wouldn’t want to destroy that just because she wasn’t interested in him as a potential boyfriend.