Chapter 2: Ship Wars and Secret Hearts

Harper and I are known as the sweetest ship in the entertainment world. Sure enough, as soon as we appeared together, the chat went wild:

The comments scrolled by so fast I could barely read them. Emojis, hearts, and ship names everywhere. I could feel the cameras zooming in, looking for any hint of chemistry. I tried to act casual, but my cheeks were burning.

[Oh wow, look at Harper walking straight through the crowd to Autumn! Shipping it so hard!]

I could practically hear the fans squealing through the screen. Harper winked at me, and the crowd lost it. I tried not to laugh, but it was impossible.

[Did anyone notice they have matching hair colors today? One red, one blue, both curly—red and blue have always been a classic ship! Are they feeding us candy on purpose?]

I hadn’t even realized our hair matched until now. I ran a hand through my curls, glancing at Harper’s wild blue streaks. It was almost like we’d coordinated, even though it was just a happy accident.

[Noticed! And their outfits are from the same brand and series! Real couples are the best! Go, “Autumn Harvest!”]

I almost choked on my coffee when I saw our ship name trending. “Autumn Harvest.” It was clever, I had to admit. I wondered if Morgan had seen it yet. The thought made my stomach flutter.

"Autumn Harvest" is the ship name fans gave Harper and me.

The name stuck like glue. Everywhere I went, people called us “Autumn Harvest.” It was inescapable, but also kind of sweet. I wondered if any of them knew the truth—that Harper and I were just friends, and my heart belonged to someone else entirely.

I watched the comments fly across the screen and saw we were already trending. Squinting, I glanced at Harper, who was chopping vegetables nearby.

He looked so at ease, like he belonged on the cover of a food magazine. I caught his eye, and for a second, we both grinned like kids in on a secret. The producers must have loved it. I could almost hear Miss Kelsey’s voice in my head: “That’s it, Autumn! Give them what they want!”

Maybe he felt my gaze, because he suddenly looked up. Our eyes met, and Harper gave me a smile that could melt anyone.

It was the kind of smile that made you forget where you were, that made everything else fade into the background. I felt my cheeks go hot, and I had to look away before I burst out laughing. Harper was good—too good.

My heart skipped a beat, and I screamed inside—this was bad.

I could practically hear my inner voice yelling, "Abort mission!" I squeezed the handle of my spatula, trying to keep it together. If anyone looked close, they’d see I was just barely holding back a grin.

I admit, I did approach Harper on purpose.

I’d rehearsed what I’d say if anyone asked, but the truth was, I’d made a beeline for Harper from day one. Not because of the ship, not because of the fame, but because he was the bridge to someone else.

But it wasn’t because I liked him!

I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but I knew no one would believe me. Instead, I kept playing my part, hoping the truth would come out eventually.

I…

Me!

I was after his tall, long-legged, red-lipped, dazzling sister!

Every time Morgan walked into a room, it was like the air changed. She had this effortless confidence, this magnetic pull. I’d never felt anything like it before. My crush was so obvious to me, I couldn’t believe no one else noticed.

I sat in the living room, watching Harper in the center seat, and quietly took the seat farthest inside.

I slid into the corner, hoping to stay out of the spotlight. I figured if I kept my distance, maybe the cameras would focus on someone else. Harper caught my eye and gave me a little shrug, like we were both in on the joke.

I thought that by sitting far away, our rooms wouldn’t be close. But when the director announced the room assignments and Harper’s name was next to mine, I realized I was wrong.

The look on Harper’s face was priceless. He mouthed “Sorry” as the director read out the names. I tried to hide my panic, but I could feel the crew’s eyes on us, waiting for some kind of reaction. I just nodded, pretending it was no big deal, even though my heart was racing.

Half an hour later, Harper and I were in our room, staring at each other.

The room was small and awkwardly cozy, with two twin beds pushed against opposite walls. We both hovered by the door, neither of us sure what to do. I fiddled with my phone, and Harper picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. The silence stretched on, heavy and weirdly intimate.

Yep, the "Autumn Harvest" ship that everyone ships online? In reality, the two leads didn’t even have each other’s contact info.

It was almost funny. We were the internet’s favorite couple, and we didn’t even have each other’s numbers. I wondered what the fans would say if they knew the truth.

I bit my lip and hesitated before speaking:

"Um…"

Harper: "Um…"

We spoke at the same time, then looked away quickly.

It was like some weird sitcom moment—awkward, a little bit hilarious, and totally relatable. I could feel my face getting redder by the second.

"You go first…"

Harper: "Why don’t you go first?"

This damn telepathy…

We both laughed, the tension easing just a bit. It was the kind of laugh that said, "Yeah, this is ridiculous, but we’re in it together."

After a couple seconds of silence, I tried again:

"Then I’ll go first."

Harper: "Should I go first?"

We both stopped, then burst out laughing for real this time. It felt good to just laugh, to let the pressure melt away for a second.

Finally, we stopped being polite and blurted out in unison:

"Can you give me your sister’s Instagram?"

Harper: "Can you give me your brother’s Instagram?"

Instantly, the air froze.

We stared at each other, mouths open, the realization hitting us at the same time. For a moment, neither of us knew what to say.

"You’re not straight?"

"You’re not straight either?"

After Harper said that, I let out a huge sigh of relief.

It was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I slumped onto the bed, laughing in disbelief. Harper grinned, his eyes bright with surprise. For the first time, we were both completely honest with each other.

Actually, I’d suspected Harper wasn’t straight. I went to college in Toledo, which is famous for its vibrant LGBTQ+ scene. In my four years there, most of my close friends weren’t straight men, but either bi or gay.

Toledo was where I learned to be myself, where I found my tribe. I’d spent countless nights at Rainbow Alley, dancing with friends who understood what it meant to be different. Harper had that same energy—the easy confidence, the subtle clues. I’d always wondered, but now I knew for sure.

So when I first met Harper, my gut told me he didn’t seem straight.

It was something in the way he talked about art, the way he looked at people. He was careful, but not afraid. I admired that about him. Now, sitting across from him, I felt like I’d found an ally.

That night, Harper and I talked all night.

We stayed up until the sun started to rise, sharing stories, secrets, and dreams. It felt like we’d been friends for years, not just a few hours. I told him things I’d never told anyone, and he did the same. It was the kind of night that changes everything.

I told him how amazed I was the first time I saw his sister.