We stay on the terrace as the rest of the evening winds down, the air now cool against the warm glow of the string lights around us. The sky has shifted from a soft blue to a darkened navy, and the city lights sparkle beneath us like a million tiny stars. The quiet hum of the night surrounds us, but the tension from earlier feels lighter now. Harley’s here, with me, and we’re finally able to breathe.
But Harley, being Harley, is having none of the brooding vibe. And after a long, drawn–out silence, she puts down her wine glass and lets out a dramatic sigh.
“Enough of the doom and gloom, Count Dracula,” she says with a smile that’s equal
have to head home.”
parts mischievous and tired. “Let’s order some pizza before 1
1 freeze, a shudder running through me at the very thought. Pizza? Take–out pizza, no less
I can’t hide my grimace as I repeat, “Pizza?” like she’s just asked me to eat dirt. “You do know I have a private chef who makes a far better version than anything you’ll ever find in a cardboard box.”
She looks at me with a raised eyebrow, and her lips curve into that irrepressible grin I can’t seem to resist. “Ah, so now we’re not just living in your penthouse but also your world of luxury, huh?”
1 narrow my eyes at her, and she crosses her arms, clearly waiting for me to concede. It takes all of two seconds before she adds, “Come on, Thane. Live on the wild side for once.”
I scoff, shaking my head, but I’m having trouble denying the smirk that’s tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I’m not sure the ‘wild side includes pizza that comes in a box that’s been sitting under a heat lamp.”
“Exactly,” she teases, throwing her hands up in mack frustration, “Which is why we need to do this. You’re in the wrong world, Draeven. You need to embrace your rebellious side
I stare at her, and we lock eyes for a beat, and the playful tension between us becomes palpable. Finally, I throw up my hands in defeat. “Fine. But I’m ordering two pizzas. One for you, and one for me.”
Her face lights up with a victorious grin, and she hops up from the chair. “Deal. And none of that boring stuff like plain cheese or pepperoni. We’re doing this right.”
I can feel the eye–roll that’s forming at the back of my head, but instead, I give in to her madness, “Okay, fine. I’ll let you pick the toppings. But if there’s pineapple involved, we’re–done here.”
She laughs, and her eyes are dancing with mischievous joy. “You’re the one who’s being boring. Trust me, you’ve never truly lived until you’ve had pineapple and ham on pizza. It’s a divine combination.”
give her a flat look, but she’s already pulling out her phone to place the order, with arresistible smirk on her face. “You really want me to order a pizza that I know I’m not going to like?”
She grins as she taps awaylon her screen. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
After a few moments of playful back–and–forth, the pizzas are ordered. One with all the toppings I would never have chosen for myself, and one with the “safe” choices I can live with. We then settle into a lighthearted silence as the night stretches out before us
When my phone vibrates 30 minutes later with the notification from the building’s doorman that the pizza delivery guy is on his way up, I get up to go and fetch it.
When we’re back inside my apartment and I’m strolling to the front door, I ask her over my shoulder, “Mind setting the table for us while I grab their?”
“Oh, come on,” Harley says with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You’re not really gonna be all fancy and bring it to the dining table, are you?”
I pause at the door and glance back at her. “Where else would we eat it?”
taking the boxes to the living room,” she declares, already heading in that direction with a smile. “We’ll be sitting on the floor like regular people and eating like we’re not billionaires,”
laugh under my breath at her antics, more than willing to indulge her. I grab the pizzas when the scrawny kid steps out of the elevator, tip him generously, and then I join her in the living room. Harley has already plopped herself down on the rug in front of the coffee table, and I have no
We eat straight from the boxes, and the warm smell of cheesy bread and spicy sauce wafts up between us. Every bite tastes better than I expected, and I can’t help but enjoy the simplicity of it. The more we eat, the more the conversation shifts into playful jabs and light teasing, creating a balance of easy comfort and slow–building tension.
At one point, Harley takes a bite, and some of the pizza sauce stays behind right below her bottom lip. I don’t even think about it as my hand reaches out instinctively and my thumb brushes across her plump lower lip before sweeping up the errant sauce.
Her eyes darken, and she leans in closer to me, as
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