Harper's Rules 1 & 2

Chapter 23: Harper

"How the fuck did we get here?" I muttered to myself more than Li, who beamed like I'd just gifted her a puppy.

No, a whole fucking litter.

As my right hand's index finger and thumb pinched my nose, a short mental recap of this week's events answered my own question. After Jake's surprise visit outside my class, he sent a couple of 'don't block me' warning texts, then thankfully fell silent probably since he prepped for their first game.

In my attempted 'be better'-ness, despite my rough first day, I arrived on time to my class on time the other four days of the week, skirted past any and all of EJ's questions as to what the fuck Jake Harrison from USC wanted with me other than I told him it was a case of mistaken identity. My routine developed quickly, I went to class nine to twelve-thirty every day, did my homework, swam a few pool laps, ate dinner with Li, then went through my nighttime skincare routine. Friday night Li and I camped in, ate Thai food out of boxes, and watched a movie.

In other words, I'm as bored as fuck.

I slipped up Saturday morning when I lugged my laundry basket downstairs and my elbow knocked my paralegal books off my desk. After they clashed into a jumbled heap, Li picked them up and slowly rose, a familiarly stashed away piece of paper clasped in between her fingers. Confusion in her frowned expression slowly morphed into absolute jubilation.

"Oh my gosh! You got game tickets for today?" She flapped Kieran's tickets at me. "And invited to the afterparty!? Do you think they'll have beer pong?"

Fuck, I should've just thrown those away.

"Do I think... Uhh..." With my laundry basket balanced on one hip, I looked back at her. "You want to go?"

While I had zero interest in the Bruins as a collective team, I fully admitted a change of scenery from our dorm room or downstairs eatery was probably best for both Li and I. Her excited head nod combined with the fact I'd previously sat through many, many football games with zero interest in the final outcome, so Li and I took in UCLA's home opener game

In the seven hundredth billionth football game I'd seen, guys in tight uniforms charged back and forth up and down a grass field, tackled each other like apes, smacked each other's asses, crashed helmets, and revved up the Rose Bowl Stadium's crowd of almost ninety-three thousand UCLA fans at every occurence.

The three pm football game, which UCLA won against Stanford 31-17, wasn't enough out-of-the-room activity for my surprisingly social roommate. After Li begged, pleaded, and even threw in a few pouts, I relented and agreed we came to the football house party.

Yes, seriously. She begged me.

She. Begged. ME.

So, dressed in a black bikini top, black sandals, and ripped jean shorts because I still hadn't scheduled my Brazilian but assumed even the soberest of drunks wouldn't have noticed the peach fuzz on my legs, I balanced my least expensive pair of Aviators on the top of my head and mentally prepared myself for a testosterone-filled night of disappointment.

In what hopefully looked like a 'not at all interested' vibe, I kept my makeup clean and fresh except for my eyes. Instead of a dry powder, I applied a soft pink cream eye shadow for a glossier finish, swept a deep purple into my eye creases for definition, then blended them up towards my brow bone and outer eye corners. Dark brown liner completed my eyes, a light foundation brushed with pink bronzer was enough on my cheeks, forehead, chin, nose, neck and chest because my skin took a backdrop. While my bold red lipstick called out to me, I opted for a nude balm.

Li's curious gaze fixated on me the entire forty-five minutes I applied my makeup. Once finished, I turned towards her white bikini-clad top and tiny black shorts that I was seriously impressed with her for wearing and pointed at my desk chair.