A/n: Woo! First chapter of the sequel posted on the same day as the last chapter of the prequel. Clearly, I'm the bomb. Or obsessive-compulsive. It's one of those. More likely the latter seeing as I'm keeping the same update schedule. Which, to refresh your memory, is as follows:

Chapters will be posted on the 1st, 7th, 14th, 21st, and 28th of a month as long as RL doesn't interfere.

Also, if you haven't read my story Imperfectly Perfect, you should probably do so before continuing or this story won't make as much sense as it should. For those of you who have read IP, know that, like IP, this story will have some sexy scenes, a healthy amount of swearing, and a whole lot of angst. Unlike IP, it's told from Harper's point of view.

So, yeah. Thanks for reading and sticking with me for another adventure. I hope you enjoy the chapter!


Perfectly Worth It

"Worth it and perfect are different things. No one's perfect, yet in romance, everyone becomes worth it. And that's the trick."

-Maureen Johnson

Chapter 1: To Be Sure

I meant what I said.

Nic Gracy is beautiful.

It's what made me notice him.

Well, no. That's not true. The way he constantly stared at me made me notice him. How beautiful he is kept me noticing him.

He has dark hair. It looks black in some lighting, but sunlight reveals it's actually a deep chocolate brown. It's medium length, long enough to almost fall into his eyes and coil over his ears. There's a very slight curl to it too that always makes it look messy, like he just rolled out of bed. Which he probably did more than half of the time.

His eyes are grey. They remind me of storm clouds. Considering his temper and how lightning quick he is to react to things, I feel like that's a rather fair and suiting description.

The rest of his features are very plain. There's nothing exciting about his cheekbones—they're just cheekbones. His nose is a little crooked, like it's been broken before; his jaw and chin are nondescript; his skin is kind of pale, uneven and, if you look closely, has small acne scars; his lips are neither full nor thin.

But there's something about the way everything goes together that makes him so striking. In spite of how ordinary each feature is, he is not. He is beautiful.

And he has no idea.

He doesn't realize how many heads he turns with that brooding look he gets when he's not consciously doing anything with his expression. That look combined with the rest of his appearance makes him the dark, mysterious, possibly troubled character everyone can't help but be curious about—that everyone wants lately because current media has made us believe that's desirable and that all that person needs is a special someone to make everything better.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't initially think that about Nic. Of course, one conversation with him quickly corrected me of that notion. Besides, that idea isn't what attracted me to him.

No. That's his attitude—the way he's always snarky and a bit rude and sort of an asshole, and the way he scowls or sneers at almost everything. It's weird, I know, but I like it. I like the sarcasm and angst because it's so real. Everything about Nic is just so real—so human. I can't explain or describe why or how that gets me like it does. It just does. Like nothing else has ever before.

That's why I fell for him.

That's why I went after him even though I was with Paige.

That's why I didn't care or feel guilty about that when Nic and I started fooling around.

That's why it hurt so much when he tried to tell me it didn't mean anything.

That's why I forgave him so easily, though I'm not entirely sure I should have.

X

It's the middle of the night. Nic is still here. He's lying in my bed, sound asleep.

And I'm lying beside him, wide awake. I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about everything that's happened a few hours ago. Everything that's happened over the last several days. Everything that's happened in the past two month. All the emotions are muddling together. It's not a pleasant feeling.

Biting down on the inside of my lip, I look away from the ceiling, over at Nic. Even in his sleep, he frowns. That's no good; he'll get lines sooner as he grows older.

I reach out and gently comb my fingers through his hair. At once, Nic's face evens out. I smile.

The smile falters in the next second. So does my hand. But I force myself to resume playing with his hair. One, it apparently comforts Nic. Two, it helps me think.

This past week has been a mess. So much has happened. I have felt and thought so much, most of it at complete odds with each other. I can't—it's impossible for me to know whether or not I've made or am making a mistake. I'm just not sure about any of it. Not like I was.

I knew what I was getting into with Nic when I kissed him that first time. Honestly, I did. I knew that he had issues and was going to have a hard time admitting that what's between us was more than sexual attraction. I just didn't care. For the first time in probably ever, I did something without regards to the consequences and it didn't bother me. I merely did what I wanted to and it felt good.

Too good.

And was it worth it? Should I have really started something with Nic when I knew how and what he is? Should I have really betrayed, broken up with, and then hurt Paige with the truth for someone who just threw it all back in my face hours later? Should I have really let him in tonight?

A part of me says yes, of course. I mean, he did apologize for everything and I know he meant it or else he never would've confessed all that he did. But I don't know. Another part of me is so unsure.

Another part of me says I shouldn't have fallen for him standing outside my window and singing to me.

Another part of me says I shouldn't have fallen for him at all.

Nic has issues. I know we all do, but his…his are different. They're more serious than most. They've screwed him up a bit more than most. I knew that from the beginning even if I didn't know exactly what his problem was, and I still went after him.

But now that I know exactly what happened and how it messed with him and have been on the receiving end of it, I just don't know anymore. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. I don't know if I should have forgiven him. I don't know if this makes us compatible anymore. I don't know if we ever were to begin with.

I don't know if I can keep my promise to him.

I want to. I want to so badly because I want him and if there's one thing I'm absolutely sure about it's how I feel about him. I just don't know if my feelings are correct or if they're going to last or if this is all going to end in a huge dis—

A hand clamps onto my wrist out of nowhere and I snap out of it to see Nic staring at me with narrowed eyes. I blink before I can help it. It always takes me by surprise how incredibly shrewd and piercing that grey is.

"You're thinking too loud," he mutters. I give him a sheepish smile.

"Sorry."

Nic gives an aborted shake of his head, his eyebrows furrowed.

Then, he releases my wrist to slide his hand along my jaw to the back of my neck where he tangles his fingers in my hair. He tugs me forward until we're nose-to-nose.

"Don't apologize. Just fucking stop," he tells me in a commanding whisper against my lips right before he kisses me.

And it moments like this that, for some reason, make me melt—that me fall for him all over again.

That make me believe everything is going to work out in the end.

But, to be sure, I'll just have to wait and see.