Harper and Jacob hook up inside

Jacob holds the door open for Harper to enter the penthouse. It’s a chic cube made of glass, white from top to bottom, where it isn’t gray or chrome. The space is expansive and modern, sleek lines and a minimalist aesthetic. Harper can’t help but feel out of place at the opulence of the place. “Here we are,” Jacob says as he opens a door into a large, well-appointed guest room. The room is meticulously organized, with a large bed, a walk-in closet, and an impressive en-suite.

Harper glances around. “Wow, this is incredible,” she says.

Jacob smiles, clearly pleased by her reaction. “And this is just the guest room. I got no idea how Andrew affords it. Let's find you something to wear.” He gestures toward the closet. As they begin searching the closet, Jacob keeps looking at her. “That dress is really something,” he says.

Harper’s cheeks go red. “Oh, um, thanks,” she stammers.

Jacob chuckles. “Not everyone can pull off a look like that.”

She tugged at the hem of the dress. “It’s a little much for a pool party.”

Jacob’s eyes linger on her. “It suits you.” They rifle through the options for a little while before he speaks again. “I heard you had a breakup too. Guess we’re both looking for a distraction.”

Harper’s eyes meet his. “I guess so. It’s weird how life just throws these curveballs.”

Without replying, Jacob is right next to her in an instant. His eyes find hers and her breath stops. Slowly, he leans in. Harper’s lips part in anticipation. Their lips meet in a deep, fervent kiss. His hands grip her waist to pull her against him. His fingers slip under the cutouts on her dress, and all of a sudden Harper is grateful that Elena chose something so absurd. He’s a good foot taller than her, and lifts her up onto the counter, pressing her back against the mirror. She can’t help but grab back at him, and she realizes he’s hard.

“Isn’t this…” she murmurs between breaths. This bathroom didn’t belong to either of them.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, undoing his fly and letting his pants drop. She stares at the bulge in his boxers and decides she agrees. “How do you want to do this?” he says.

“Do you have a condom?”

He looks annoyed for a second, then pushes her legs aside so he can open up the drawer under the sink. He pulls one out and tears the wrapper. “Happy?”

She feels a pang of anxiety. “Yes,” she says, trying to think of how to get him back on her side. “How… do you want me?”