~ Harley ~
The club feels different tonight.
Not Rowdy.
Like everyone in the room is paying attention to something they can’t quite see yet.
Maybe it’s me.
Or maybe it’s Quinn.
I sit on one of the barstools with a soda in front of me, pretending I don’t notice how often people glance in this direction.
They think they’re subtle.
They’re not.
Two bikers near the pool table whisper while looking over here.
One of the girls who works the bar keeps glancing between Quinn and me like she’s watching a reality show unfold.
I lean toward the bartender.
“Do I have something on my face?”
He glances up.
Smirks.
“Nah.”
“Then why does everyone keep staring like I just robbed a bank?”
He wipes down a glass slowly.
“They’re trying to figure something out.”
“What?”
He tilts his chin to
