In Pursuit by Olivia Luck Page A

head knocks into something hard. Very hard.
    “Oh!” I whimper.
    “Fuck! I’m sorry,” he says in his gruff way. Harris is also on all fours, under the table trying to – help me?
    Our eyes meet, and time stops. Everything going on around us melts into the background. Under the table, just a few breaths away, Harris Grant becomes the center of my universe. It takes all the internal strength I have to hold myself back from mashing our lips together. Just one second is all I need – to know what he feels like would be divine. My breathing becomes ragged and my body, against my brain’s protests, starts to sway forward. So close...
    Harris abruptly backs away, leaving me gaping in his wake. Just when I think he wants nothing to do with me, he wraps his hands around the tops of my arms and gently pulls me to my feet.
    “Alright, then?” He’s eyeing my forehead in concern.
    “Fine, thank you.” He wordlessly hands me a cluster of napkins from the table.
    “I should go,” he says. I belatedly realize that Claire is no longer standing at her table, and the annoying honking coming from down the block must be her demanding Harris’ attention.
    “Thanks.” My voice sounds breathless.
    I want you.
    Harris lets out a breath and then shakes his head. “See you tonight.”
    Then he’s walking away again, never staying long enough for me to figure out what he is thinking.
    I drop back into my chair, once again legless.
    “Screw him, or I will,” Sean threatens.
    I slump forward, not caring that my sundress is sopping wet, and press my forehead into my palms.

     “Explain this party again,” I say to Claire, as we settle into the buttery black leather of her town car. We’re on our way to the Franklin & Smith soiree. Just like Claire “suggested,” I’m wearing one of her dresses. It must be a micro-mini on her, because the white eyelet dress I’m wearing reveals an awful lot of leg.
    “Louder music, Marcus!” Claire directs the driver and he increases the volume on the Top 40 hit blasting in the car. She turns toward me and after a roll of her eyes explains, “The partners do a summer party to boost morale,” she uses quotation marks around the last bit to show her sarcasm. “Basically, we go to an outdoor venue, get hammered, then go to a club. Like I said, I need a date this year to get through it. These are usually painful. Harris expects me to be on my best behavior because he’s a partner and all. Blah, blah, blah.”
    “So you admit you’re just using me for my amusing conversation?” My voice strains over the pulse of the music.
    She smiles broader. “You’re the best date I could have, ever!”
    We pull up in front of a hotel on Lincoln Avenue, not too far north from our apartment. Marcus opens the door for us and extends his hand to help me out of the car.
    “Thank you,” I say gratefully and he nods politely.
    Claire whisks by him without a second glance, and I teeter after her on my four-inch heels. We enter the elevator and she presses the button for the roof.
    “Amanda will be here with Peter. Have you seen him?” she asks dreamily.
    “Yes! He is smoking.”
    Not nearly as good looking as Harris.
    “Be prepared. You might faint when he gets close to you,” Claire responds just as we reach the roof.
    The doors open and we walk through a small foyer out to the deck. There’s the breathtaking view of downtown Chicago. Servers twist between the guests, handing out hors d'oeuvres and wine. The bars are situated on either side of the entrance, keeping the majority of the deck space open.
    I sigh softly to myself as I take in the scenery. “This is unreal.”
    She swipes two glasses of white wine from a waitress when she pauses near us. “I guess,” Claire says noncommittally. “To us!” She giggles, raising her hand in a toast and I join her jovial mood.
    “To us!”
    We clink our glasses then make our way into the crowd. Claire surprises me and sticks to my side, not interacting