~Quinn~

"What if he doesn't feel the same way?" I whisper.

"Then at least you'll know." Harper squeezes my shoulder. "But what if he does?"

There's that phrase again. What if.

We finish shopping and head back to my house to prepare. Harper insists on testing the string lights ("They need to be perfectly imperfect"), making the hot chocolate from scratch ("Store-bought is not romantic"), and helping me pick out an outfit that somehow manages to be cute, practical for winter weather, and ...