Cheated Hearts

Beatrix sat in front of me, drinking red wine out of a glass that had a Klimt painting on it. We had gone home to my apartment after work and she had this look in her eyes that reminded me of a cat.

"You should really buy wineglasses," she critiqued.

I was vaguely reminded of the time I had served Harper wine in one of them, she had said, "These are so neat! Where did you get them?" And we had a conversation about the art museum I had visited last year. But Beatrix wasn’t Harper.

The night after I "rescued" Harper from Josh, we fell asleep on the couch watching an old rerun of Friends, but when I woke up, there was a note in her spiky writing.

Thank you for everything.
-Harper

I went to work, yawning and trying to sleep during my break, and Beatrix latched herself onto me and insisted on hanging out. Her long blond hair was down and wavy today. I watched her through the fuzzy alcohol and exhaustion.

She slowly stood up and walked around the table. I smirked as she placed a kiss on my lips.

"I thought we decided we were friends," I muttered. She had moved on to kiss my neck.

"I know," Beatrix said casually against my skin, "I'm just bored."

I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. It felt like I was moving in slow motion. I removed her shirt through a haze. She took off my tie through a fog. Nothing was real. It wasn't real.

______________________________________________________________________________

When I woke up, it was daylight. Beatrix was passed out on the bed, her bare back was fair and I noticed she had a mole on her side. I didn't know what to do. She was there. Oh. Shit.

I'm barely processing my naked coworker beside me, when I realize that the reason why I have woken was because of a knock on the door.

"Keaton? Keaton, are you in?" It was Harper.

I quickly grabbed a pair of boxers off the floor and found a semi clean tee shirt to clothe myself. When I opened the door, I tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake Beatrix.

Harper's face was a splotchy canvas of yellows, purples, and blues. Instinctively, I reached out and touched her cheek softly, muttering, "Ouch."

"It looks worse than it is," she mumbled.

She wore a floral print dress her hair was up in a messy bun. She looked almost like a doll. It made me want to forget about Beatrix inside and take Harper out to coffee.

I then realized she had something in her hands. I vaguely winced at the marks on her wrists as she held out a plate towards me. It was a cake shaped in the form of a circle and smothered with chocolate frosting. In pink lettering, it read THANK YOU KEATON!; I smiled.

"I, uh, I thought you would like some. It's double chocolate. And I, um, made it myself. It's not one of those shitty ones that come in a box. I hope you like it," she rambled nervously, her hands sticking out the cake and a radiant blush streaking across her cheeks as she spoke.

I tried to hide my smirk and took the cake off her hands.

"Uh, thanks, Harper. That's nice of you."

She grinned. We were getting somewhere.

Josh is out. You're in.

Harper bruised face crinkled as she smiled.

"Listen, Keaton, I was wondering-"

"Keaton?!"

Holy mother of God. Go back to sleep, Beatrix. Fall out the window. Become mute.

"Keaton?" Beatrix called out again.

Confusion filled Harper's eyes. I turned around to find Beatrix standing there in my work button up, rummaging around trying to find her celphone.

"I –I don't think you've introduced me," Harper whispered, staring at Beatrix.

"Harper. This is Beatrix. We work together."

Beatrix headed over and grinned, sticking out her hand to Harper who graciously shook it back.

"Hi, Harper. Keaton really likes you," she said.

I gave Beatrix an annoyed look. I regretted telling her of my infatuation with the girl who lived upstairs. Harper murmured something under her breath. "Apparently, not enough." I gave Harper an apologetic look.

"I hope you, erm, like the cake," Harper murmured. I could feel her mortification ebbing off of her and I wanted to pull her into a hug. I wanted to tell her that Beatrix wasn't my girlfriend.

She sprinted up the steps without another word –just a look of betrayal- and I closed the door. A groan escaped my lips and I collapsed on the couch.

"Oh, Keaton. I'm sorry!" Beatrix suddenly murmurs, as if she barely realized she was naked and wearing my shirt. "It's early. I wasn't thinking!"

I held up my hand.

"It's not your fault," I muttered.

The idea of Harper ever kissing me again was becoming more and more farfetched every day.

______________________________________________________________________________

If there was a God out there, He was doing everything in His power to squash my chances of being with Harper Summers.

Beatrix had long since left and I was sitting on my couch, trying to muster up the courage to head up the flight and talk to Harper. I chugged down the last of the ginger ale I had in my hand and bolted up to the sixth floor. I was going to do something. I was going to tell Harper how I felt. I was going to knock her off her feet and swoop her up and give her a kiss.

Harper opened the door. Her slender neck tilted her head to the side as she looked at me. I could still see the hurt look on her face and I lost my train of thought.

"Yes, Keaton?" she asked quietly.

"Harper..." I panted, "I... You're all I think about. I don't know how else to put it. But, you and food and breathing and... Moneysaver Accounts are all I think about. But primarily you." Oh, fuck. I was rambling like her.

Harper stared at me motionlessly. Her wounded face was blank and then her lips spread apart in a beam. She held out her hand and pulled me inside.