Extra Bonus #101: Silly Stringing Beckett’s Bedroom (Harriet) (Patreon)

IMPORTANT: Please do not screenshot and post any part of this bonus scene to other sites or share with non-patrons. All of the Patreon content is exclusive to Patreon and for current patron's eyes only.  Thank you!! xoxo Krista & Becca

RESOURCES:  Check out this narrative timeline graphic to visually see when this bonus scene takes place.

MUSIC: We listened to "White Horses" by Wolf Alice while writing this bonus scene.

SPOILER WARNING: This bonus scene takes place during SILVER SWEET and we highly recommend reading the book before reading this bonus. You will get spoiled.

I’M SWEATING through my cropped top and breathing hard, but it has more to do with mopping, vacuuming, and dusting Ben’s living room and kitchen—and his favorite brother’s bedroom—than it does any fear or anxiety. That’s thankfully lessened since Phoenix and I scrubbed every inch of nasty blue silly string off the surfaces, floors, and ceilings, his Spotify playlist blasting at high volume in the background. The heavy drumbeats fueled our rigorous cleaning session, and Green Day and The Offspring drowned out most of the guilt I felt.

I twist the cord around the vacuum and slide it carefully next to the steamer in the hall closet, then I go peek back into Beckett’s pristine-looking bedroom.

Phoenix is inspecting the floors and blue bedspread for any missed spots. It’s clear he’s as concerned as I am about triggering Beckett’s OCD.

I crinkle my nose and chew my lip to keep some strange emotion at bay. Dealing with this alone would’ve been hard, but dealing with hard shit alone is what I’m used to. Before Ben, at least.

Tom gifted me a much better night when he informed his new boyfriend that Beckett has OCD. Something I was trying really fucking hard not to share with Joana or Phoenix. I know it’s one of those personal facts Beckett would rather keep in a vault. Because he rarely ever talks about it.

Almost never directly with me.

I’ve mostly heard him speak with Ben, and that’s because he’s trying to help Ben out with his own obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Phoenix doesn’t hear me in the doorway, not with his music still blaring through the apartment’s surround sound. He checks behind the leather headboard again, being as thorough as Beckett might be.

My nemesis doesn’t have horrible taste in dudes. I’d say it’s the swerve of the century, but liking Tom’s boyfriend isn’t the most jaw-dropping thing that’s ever happened to me.

Being in the inner circle of the Cobalt Empire definitely is. Dating Ben Cobalt for six months and his whole family still hasn’t had too much of me—that’s another shocker.

Tom really did his big one on finding a new drummer for The Carraways. Because so far, there’s nothing I don’t like about Phoenix St. Pierre.

He’s always been weirdly sincere. Like when he asks me about my life, I can tell it’s not just small talk to fill the air. He’s interested in knowing me, and it’d been easy to hand him the truth about me living in my car. It kind of surprised me just how easy it was.

I like his brand of sarcasm and how his face looks irritated half the time. He’s not sitting in the chipper section of a Venn diagram. Being around him makes me feel like if I get called out for being a moody bitch, I might not be the only one.

So I guess that means he makes me feel…less alone.

A feeling I’ve come to crave since experiencing it with the Cobalt fam. Anti-loneliness. I want to consume it daily.

I watch Phoenix smooth a pleat in the navy-blue curtain. He doesn’t even know Beckett that well, I don’t think, and he cares about not hurting him. I keep waiting for Phoenix to have a fatal flaw since he’s attached to Tom.

But the more I get to know Phoenix, the more I sort of wish I always knew him. I wish he grew up with me in Pittsburgh. I wish we could’ve jammed out in high school, even if he’s older than me. We could’ve snuck out from our parents’ houses to go see a concert with bad acoustics in a shitty venue. We’d recount it for the rest of our lives like it was the greatest concert ever.

Then again, maybe it’s good we didn’t grow up together.

I don’t know much about his parents. Maybe they would’ve warned Phoenix away from me. That would’ve hurt worse. At least dreaming about being a part of the Hale fam was so unrealistic that I couldn’t feel rejected.

I knew that was just a fantasy.

Phoenix combs a rough hand through his dark, nearly black, hair while he edges backward and spins toward the door. He sees me and shoves a hand in his cargo pocket, lowering the volume on his phone.

The music goes hushed before he asks me, “What do you think?”

“I think it looks how it was.” To me, at least. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Phoenix nods, backing up to stand beside me and survey the cleanliness. “Like we weren’t even here.”

“Except for that.” I uncross my arms to point at the note we left out on Beckett’s desk.

Joana’s confession of the silly string crime.

We agreed to deal with it after we were finished cleaning the entire apartment. Phoenix goes and picks up the pad of paper, then flashes the note at me.

The brat down the hall was here.

I shrug at him. “What’s the best option? We leave it for him to find? Because Jo is going to expect Beckett to have a reaction the next time they meet or whatever.”

“The next time they fuck,” Phoenix rephrases.

“She said they’re not hooking up.”

“You believe that?”

Clearly Phoenix doesn’t, but he just met her tonight. Would Joana tell me the truth? We’ve become closer friends this year. She always invites me when she’s going out with a group of her party friends, and I don’t always accept—as a mega introvert—but like she promised, it never deters Jo from shooting out another invite.

It’s been cool running into her in the hall when I come over for Ben. Friendship with Joana has felt easy. We sort of naturally began having dinner at her place when the Cobalts leave for Philly every Wednesday. Our Wednesdays usually include watching an old episode of CSI (I got her into it), but tonight was different since Phoenix was at the high-rise.

We decided to include him, and I thought the night would end with us watching a murder unfold—not committing our own crimes.

I look around Beckett’s newly clean space.

It’s still hitting me that Joana has been in Beckett’s room multiple times before. She didn’t tell me this, but I guess it shouldn’t be revelatory when I’ve seen them flirt. The first time I met Joana, I witnessed her back-and-forth with Beckett in the hallway. She claims they “bicker,” but if that’s all it is, then it’s sexually charged bickering.

I set my gaze back on Phoenix. “I believe maybe they haven’t gone all the way yet,” I tell him. “The truth might be somewhere in the middle.”

“Maybe.” He comes closer with the note. “I’ll give it to Beckett.”

My brows cinch in harder confusion. “You’re going to personally deliver that note to Beckett Joyce Cobalt?”

Phoenix cringes. “Wow, they really have you under their spell. Using his full legal name?”

I scowl. “You’re certified boyfriends with the worst one, dude.”

He smiles a little at that. “Yeah, I am.”

I like that Tom labeled their relationship on the flight here, especially seeing how happy Phoenix is over it. Every time I’ve noticed the edges of his lips rising higher and higher, it’s usually because of Tom.

Phoenix slides the note into his pocket. “And the Cobalts are untouchable bullshit is bullshit, Harriet. We’ve both touched them.” He extends an arm around the room. “We’re also literally in their apartment.”

I lift my stiff shoulders again. “Beckett is different.”

“How?” His features tighten in confusion now.

“He’s—”

“Intense, yeah,” Phoenix nods in remembrance. “I heard what you said about him.”

“And you don’t think he’s a teeny bit fucking intense?” I ask. “Beckett checked you for track marks in the elevator.”

“And I’d do the same thing for my little brother if I suspected he were hooking up with a drug addict,” Phoenix says. “Beckett is just overprotective.”

My eyes dart to his cargo pocket where the note now resides. We could leave the note for Beckett to find, but he’ll come out asking me questions, knowing I was there too. Is that why Phoenix wants to hand-deliver it? To deal with this himself so I don’t have to?

“You’ll handle Beckett?” I ask.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about the whole thing. I’ll take care of it.”

I ease more. “Birdie is lucky to have you.” Harriet. I internally groan. Is that a weird thing to tell him out of the fucking blue? “You’re a good brother, I mean.” I feel my scowl reform in defense.

“I know what you meant.” Phoenix nods toward the doorway behind me. “You want to wait in the living room for them? Tom texted and said he left Philly early. He’ll be here before everyone else.”

Tom must be concerned about the silly string situation. I haven’t filled Ben in on the fact that I trashed his apartment yet. Mostly, I don’t want to interrupt his Wednesday Night Dinners and this special time he spends with his family.

With a couple glass bottles of water and my bag of Jolly Ranchers, Phoenix and I end up on the faux-leather couch together and shuffle his music playlist again. He passes on the hard candy, not a super big fan of sweet things. As I pop a cherry one in my mouth and Panic! At The Disco plays, he asks, “So how come you didn’t just talk Joana out of the silly string plan?”

“I’d thought about it.” I cross my legs on the couch cushion. “But I couldn’t figure out how to tell her not to silly string the apartment without lying. Because if Beckett didn’t have OCD, then I would’ve been game to do it.”

“You didn’t want to lie to your friend,” he nods, understanding.

It still jolts me a little, hearing someone mention my friend. That I have a friend. I smile to myself, feeling proud that I made one. Maybe even prouder that I might be naturally making another.

I glance over at Phoenix. “I don’t have many friends, and being dishonest with the one I do have feels extra shitty.”

He stretches forward to place his water on the glass coffee table. “You’re friends with Luna?” He meets my eyes. “She mentioned you were lab partners at one point.”

Tom is best friends with Luna Hale, so knowing Phoenix has hung out with her before isn’t surprising. Just the fact that Luna would mention me at all to him.

“Did she say we’re friends?” I wonder.

“Maybe. I can’t really remember, but I came out of the conversation thinking you were. Or are you closer to Xander? I know you hang out with him downstairs.”

On the eighteenth floor, he means. Ben has grown so much closer to his cousin that we often have late nights in Xander’s apartment listening to music, playing video games and board games. I’ve even gotten Xander’s help with a history essay this past semester. That course kicked my ass, but I ended up with an A by a sheer miracle named Xander Hale.

I lean back into the leather cushion. “I thought maybe Luna and I could be friends or maybe we might’ve been loosely. I hadn’t really had one in high school or college, but she’d asked me to her birthday party before what happened to her.”

“The kidnapping.” He winces, his eyes darkening at the thought. “Tom said it was one of the worst things their family went through.”

“Brutal,” I say, and cringe when I realize I was too deadpan. “Seriously.”

“No, I thought you were making fun of her.” He gives me a narrowed look like, I know sarcasm and that’s not it.

“Some say I am a callous bitch,” I quip back. “You should be afraid of me, St. Pierre.”

“Terrified.” We share subtle smiles.

I switch the Jolly Rancher to the left side of my mouth, thinking more. “I fully expected Luna to withdraw my invite to her b-day, but she didn’t. I went but didn’t stay long, and after that…she kept her distance. I figured we were likely never more than just lab partners. My first assumption was right.” I explain further, “I’m still cool with Luna. We’ll talk when we see each other in this building, but she seems super hesitant to chat for a long time with me. Maybe I scare her.”

“You’re not that scary,” Phoenix says flat-out.

“Tell that to all the babies I make cry with one glance.”

He draws a circle around his pissed-off face. “I’m not any better, Fisher.”

I grind my scowl away into a smile, realizing something else too. “Maeve hasn’t cried from me yet. But she has Cobalt DNA so that’s a super baby.” I clarify in case he needs it, “Jane’s daughter is Maeve.”

“I haven’t met either of them yet.”

“They’ll definitely go to one of your shows. You’ll probably meet Maximoff and Farrow that then too.”

“That’s what Tom said.” He doesn’t seem intimidated to meet more of Tom’s extended famous family. I also remember how he made small talk with a bunch of Tom’s friends at my nemesis’s birthday rager, and he seemed to like it.

Phoenix is a people-person, in addition to being really offline.

He nods a lot in thought. “Have you ever told Ben that?”

I mentally backtrack. “About Luna?”

“Yeah, the whole thing you just told me.”

“I don’t think the whole thing,” I say, trying to remember. “Maybe some part. We’ve definitely talked about Luna’s birthday. It was the first time I met Ben.” I bite down on the hard candy. “Why?”

“I think she might’ve lost her memories after the kidnapping.”

I almost swallow the Jolly Rancher in surprise. I quickly spit it out in my palm to keep from choking. “She what? Memory loss…like amnesia?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Phoenix says. “They were all talking around it, but not that fucking well.”

“They?”

“Luna, Tom, Eliot, Donnelly—Luna’s boyfriend. They were bringing up the comic book being published at the end of the year.”

“Human Him, Cosmic Her,” I realize. “It releases in October.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” He reaches forward again for the water, more in motion than I am. “I bet she’d be hesitant to talk to you if she knew you before but couldn’t remember your interactions.”

I stare out at the sparkling Hell’s Kitchen nighttime view. I hate the idea that Luna went through something even more traumatic than I thought. “It makes sense, I guess, but so does me not being friend material.”

“Maybe Pittsburgh isn’t where you were ever going to make friends, Harriet.”

“I also went to Penn. What are you going to say about Philly?” I challenge.

“My guess is you’ve been surrounded by a bunch of fucking pricks. Maybe the Ivy League was the problem. Your chance at making a good friend there was shot.”

Okay, I dig his logic. “How are my odds in New York, St. Pierre?”

“Very high.”

Breath fills my lungs, and I’m about to respond when I recognize Paramore’s “Brick by Boring Brick” playing through the living room. “You like Paramore?” I ask, leaving the couch to dump my Jolly Rancher in the trash and wash my hands in the kitchen sink.

He raises his voice. “Yeah. My brother got me into them when we were younger.”

I dry my hands on a dish towel. “You always hijack his favorites?”

“Bird? No. He listens to too much fucking Handel.” I have no clue who that is, but Phoenix explains, “A composer.”

“You’re not into classical jams?” I ask.

“Some are fine.” He eyes me as I sit back on the sofa. “A lot of it got old, just growing up on it and studying it.” He explains the expensive music schools he attended, then frowns, his jaw muscle ticking. He shakes his head hard.

I want to ask what’s on his mind. Don’t be rude, Harriet. I hesitate to prod, but there’s no need to. Phoenix tips his head back to me and confesses, “I didn’t grow up needing much. We were close to upper middle class. But my parents went into a lot of debt to put us into those schools.”

“You think you’ll pay them back? Your parents?”

“If this pans out?”

“Between you and me and not Tommy—your album is incredible. Worthy of attention. I hope it gets it.”

His lips tic up. “Thanks. And I don’t think my parents would accept a dime from me or Birdie. They’re hoping we end up with lucrative careers, not so we can pay them back. They just want to know we aren’t struggling. Stability.”

It sounds like he has great parents. Even though mine suck, I am happy to know his don’t. Maybe a little envious, but happy. “They seem nice.”

“They are.” He nods a couple times. “They probably just wished I was easier. I always give them a hard time.” He doesn’t elaborate. “You going to the Paramore concert next year in Philly?”

“I thought about it.” I pull my feet onto the cushion. “Tickets go live tonight, but the concert is during the week. I should probably be studying—”

He’s suddenly on his feet. “You have a laptop?”

“My backpack…” I trail off and point at the worn black backpack beside the kitchen barstools. The one with patches sewn in the faded fabric.

He lifts it with one hand. “The fuck you have in here? A dumbbell?”

“MCAT study material. I’d have muscles by now if Ben didn’t carry my backpack ninety percent of the time.”

“Ten percent is when you’re not together?”

“Yep.” I smile picturing Ben slinging the strap onto his shoulder and then wrapping an arm around me on campus.

Phoenix unearths my laptop and sets my backpack on the floor near me.

I blink into focus. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“We’re going to the concert. You, Ben, me, Tom. Studying can be postponed. Concerts can’t.” He holds out the laptop for me to take it. “Let’s get the tickets.”

I smother an overwhelming feeling. “Okay, yeah.” I take the laptop, giddier than he might realize. I don’t need to dream or make-believe it—I’m going to attend a concert with Phoenix St. Pierre in my reality.

We join the queue on Ticketmaster, and while we wait for it to open, we create a joint Spotify playlist together.

Phoenix sits forward as soon as we’re in the queue, and I click quickly into the seat map. We agreed for mid-tier priced seats since we’re splitting the cost and not asking our boyfriends for cash. Even though I still have access to Ben’s entire trust fund—that he calls mine and sometimes ours—I mostly use that ginormous piggybank on college stuff.

The door opens as I hover over the general admission section.

Phoenix cranes his neck toward the kitchen, and I cast a quick glance, seeing Tom trek inside before I return my focus to the laptop.

“Tell me you took pictures,” Tom demands.

“Good criminals don’t keep evidence, Thomas,” I say, then tilt the laptop toward Phoenix. “These seats?” I have four selected.

Phoenix is more fixated on his boyfriend.

“What is going on?” Tom asks, glancing from me to Phoenix, back to me, but I don’t concentrate on his reaction. I’m unsurprised he doesn’t love that I’m buddying up to his boyfriend.

“Paramore tickets went live,” I tell him. “We just got out of the queue.”

Phoenix scrutinizes Tom with another long, concerned stare. “You okay, nepo baby? You look like you’re about to self-destruct.”

I do a double-take and see my nemesis is heavily frowning. One side of his face is a little pinker than the other. Like he scrubbed at it. Was he pranked at a Wednesday Night Dinner?

No, I can’t see the Cobalts hazing each other. Sacrificing a goat feels more likely, and I know Ben wouldn’t condone or partake in harming a living creature.

Tom swallows hard. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s been a night,” he says tightly. “And you two are now concert-going friends. My brain is overloaded, dude.”

Phoenix frowns deeper. “Want to talk about it or is this a secret tea party thing?”

“I’m honestly not sure.” He releases a tremored breath. “Probably have to wait for the dust to settle.”

I watch the timer tick down on the laptop. We only have three minutes left to make a decision about the tickets, but thankfully Phoenix tells me, “Those four,” before he leaves to meet Tom several feet away from us.

I’m fast to check out and only cast one quick look over at them. I spot Phoenix’s hand, loving and consoling, on Tom’s jaw.

Tom is grinning. Ew. I’m not sure how I feel about this new smitten Thomas. He deserves to be loved, okay. But we’re also at war.

“Four seats?” Tom suddenly says, his eyes horrified. “Is this a double da—?”

“I would rather sleep on spikes,” I cut him off. “You’re invited by proxy because you happen to be the boyfriend of my partner in crime.”

Tom gapes. “You performed one act of silly string—that you didn’t even document—and all of a sudden you’re a criminal mastermind?”

I flip him off.

He returns the middle finger.

Tickets secured, I shut the laptop and stuff it into my backpack, then stand up. “It’s done. And the tickets are for next year.”

“If you’re even with Ben by then,” Tom shoots back, and I wonder if he knows something I don’t. It hurts for a second, but I grind my teeth and try not to let it.

“Tom.” Phoenix narrows his eyes. “What the fuck, man?”

I’m not defenseless. I shoot back at Tom, “You might not even be with your new boyfriend next year.”

Tom nods. “True. Thank you, yeah. All valid points, Mouse Killer.”

My lips split apart in shock. I glance cautiously to Phoenix, then stab Tom with a glare. “You promised not to bring that up.”

He threads his hands on his head, regret flaring his eyes. “Around Ben,” he defends. “Phoenix doesn’t care that you murder mice in the name of research. Right, you don’t care?” He sends a pleading look to Phoenix.

Phoenix is already nodding. “Do not care.”

My shoulders ease a ton. Tom rakes his hands through his hair about three times. His breath seems strained, and he keeps making this weird, pained wince. I doubt it’s guilt from our verbal warfare. What happened? “Everything okay?” I ask more softly.

Tom drops his hands to his side. “Fine.”

I take the hint. I nod and zip up my backpack. “See you next week.” They’ll be back on tour and won’t be in New York. Otherwise, I’d probably run into them sooner.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Tom frowns.

“I don’t live here.” I pull the strap on my shoulder. “And I need to get back to the Honors House anyway and look over my summer syllabi.”

It’s true, but also, I think they need time alone together that doesn’t include me. I don’t want anyone to feel obligated to keep me company. Especially not when Tom looks more messed up than usual.

I wonder if he got bad news about The Carraways. I really hope not.

I’m out the door in a fucking flash. Not waiting around for Phoenix or Tom to convince me to stay because I might not be strong enough to reject the invite.

I’m on the train to MVU’s campus when I check Ben’s location and see he’s on his way home from Philly. So I send him a text.

Harriet: I did something dumb tonight.

His response hits my phone in seconds.

Ben 😘: Your dumb is most people’s smart. Me though, I have you beat.

I frown and type fast.

Harriet: Clarification, Friend.

He ends up calling me. “Hey.” His voice sounds scratchy, raw…like maybe he’d been crying. My heart plummets.

“Ben?”

“I…it wasn’t a great night.” He sounds choked and clears his throat. “I’m in the car with my brothers. I’ll explain more when I get back. You still there?”

He hasn’t checked my location. I stand up from the seat and try to balance myself with the phone to my ear. “I’ll be there.”

“What was the not dumb thing you did, Fisher?”

I struggle to confess knowing he’s in the car with Beckett. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“You’re okay though?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just worried about you.”

“I’m okay…better than I was. I…I’ll tell you soon. I promise.”

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll be waiting for you.” I just want to be in his arms. I’ve gotten used to the urge, even as someone who hated hugs pre-Ben. Post-Ben, being in his arms is one of the best feelings in the world. Knowing it’s where he wants to be makes it ten times better too.

We say quick I love yous, and I hurry to switch trains and head back to the high-rise. The entire way, my brain is shouting at me. Why the hell did I think Tom’s weird emotions were just about Tom? Sure, he’s really self-absorbed, but he loves his brothers. He loves Ben.

Why didn’t I think Ben could be involved?

Fuck.

Fuck.

I want to bang my head on the door when I reach 2166. I almost do, and I heave out a heavy breath and search for my key fob.

Fuck.

I left it inside.

My eyes dart to the newly installed doorbell. I’d been around when Charlie complained about the building putting in doorbells for all the residents, regardless of whether they wanted them or not. He made Eliot promise not to touch it, as if he’d prank-ring the apartment just to bother Charlie.

I’m not trying to alarm Phoenix and Tom, so I send Phoenix a quick text about how I’m back to wait up for Ben and to please let me inside.

I fully expect to camp outside this door for thirty minutes, but it swings open in less than a couple minutes instead.

Thank you all so much for checking out another Silver Sweet bonus scene! We'll be switching into Ben's POV for when the brothers return to their apartment, but we absolutely love showing how Phoenix & Harriet's relationship grew stronger this night into "concert-going" friends. We hope you enjoyed all the updates in Harriet's life as well from this point in the timeline!

August's podcasts are still on the horizon, so you can expect both to drop before the month ends.

xoxo Krista & Becca

“Silly Stringing Beckett's Bedroom" Copyright © 2026 by K.B. Ritchie