~ Harley ~
By midnight the club has turned into a whisper factory.
Nobody says anything to my face.
But every time I walk past a table, a conversation dies halfway through a sentence.
Then starts again once I’m three steps away.
It’s almost impressive.
Like a synchronised sport.
I sit at the bar again because apparently that’s where my life happens now.
The bartender slides another soda toward me.
“You’re trending.”
I look at him.
“Please don’t say it like that.
He smirks.
“Too late.”
I lean back on the stool.
“Let me guess.”
“Go ahead.”
“Half the room thinks Quinn’s about to marry me.”
He nods.
“Close.”
“And the other half thinks I’m secretly going to get someone killed.”
He wipes down the counter.
“That’s the more popular theory.”
“Comforting.”
Across the room, Qu
