Harrison Mccall

[cassiehernandez]

cassie didn’t know where the kiss came from, in fact, she did it without thinking at all, and it was definitely a surprise for harrison too. as she pulled away, her cheeks burned bright red, he was still kneeling, and the smile on his lips was so wide that she felt oddly relieved. just like he hadn’t expected her to kiss him, she hadn’t expected him to wrap his arms around her waist and spin them around. she let out a small scream, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck before a laugh slipped out. people believed their act was real, whistles and claps surrounding them. she shook her head, pressing her face briefly against his chest as the applause continued. their fingers laced together, and she couldn’t help but glance down at their hands, a soft smile forming on her lips. "best way to seal this," she said, trying to sound as bright and bubbly as her low mood allowed. when the manager placed a large tray in front of them and said it was for them, she smiled widely. "thank you so much, that’s so sweet," she said warmly. as harrison grabbed one of the tacos and raised it in a toast, she looked up at him. "forever," she echoed softly before taking the tray herself. "i think i need to sit down, my legs are shaking so bad, i don’t want my butter fingers dropping any of these," she added, gently guiding them away from the crowd so she wouldn’t feel so watched. she weaved through people until she found an empty bench under a streetlight, far enough from the noise. sitting down, she let out a long breath. "they actually believed it," she murmured, still surprised it had worked. she glanced at him, her expression softening. "i’m sorry about the kiss, i don’t know where that came from," she admitted, picking up a taco. "was it too weird?"

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison hadn’t even tried to hide the way his grin stretched wider after that kiss, if anything, it only made him look more alive, more in his element. Attention didn’t faze him; he thrived in it. The whistles, the claps, the eyes on them, he soaked it up like it was part of the plan all along. As she tucked into him, face pressed against his chest, his hand came up without hesitation, steady at her back, thumb brushing slow, reassuring circles like he was grounding her while still playing the part flawlessly. When she thanked the manager, Harrison gave an easy nod of appreciation, flashing that same effortless charm that probably helped sell the whole thing in the first place. The taco lifted in his hand like it was champagne, his eyes flicking to hers with a spark of mischief. As she started guiding them away, he followed without resistance, fingers still laced with hers, giving a light squeeze every now and then, subtle, but intentional. Even as the noise faded behind them, he didn’t rush to let go, like he was in no hurry to break whatever they’d just created. When they reached the bench and she sat, he dropped down beside her, stretching his legs out casually, one arm draped along the back of the bench behind her. At her comment about everyone believing it, he let out a low chuckle, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her. “Course they did,” he said smoothly. “You kidding? That performance? Oscar-worthy.” His eyes flickered with amusement, but there was something a little more genuine underneath it now, quieter, less for show. Then she apologised. That made him pause, just for a second. Harrison turned his head fully toward her, studying her face properly this time, like he was weighing his answer instead of just tossing out the first playful thing that came to mind. But then that familiar confidence slipped right back into place, softened just enough to not feel like deflection. “Weird?” he repeated, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “Cass, I’ve had worse kisses, trust me.” He leaned back slightly, still angled toward her, his tone easy but deliberate. “I didn't hate it. Didn’t exactly look like you hated it either.” A beat, just enough to tease, but not push too far. Then, quieter, a little more sincere without losing that lightness: “You don’t have to apologise for it.” His shoulder nudged hers gently, casual, grounding. “If anything, you committed to the bit. I respect it.” A pause. “And for the record?” His gaze dipped briefly to her lips before flicking back up, grin returning, just a touch slower this time. “I'm not complaining. A great kiss and free tacos? That's something we call a win-win in my book."

[deenastone]

deena scoffed as he told her they were even because they were both trouble. “kid, you wish,” she laughed, taking another long drag of her cigarette before turning slightly to blow the smoke away from him. “a little fun?” she raised her eyebrows. she dropped the cigarette to the floor and stomped it out. when he said he liked interesting nights but wanted to keep it platonic, she arched a brow again. “platonic as in we mess around as friends, or as in i just get drunk and go on with my life after?” she asked, the corners of her mouth curling into a smirk. she liked his style—the way he was flirty and open only made her more drawn to him. “i love having fun,” she purred. “what’s my definition of fun? leaving aside flirting for free drinks?” she chuckled. “that narrows it down, and i don’t know if you’re a cop, so i won’t be too open with you,” she added with a wink. “something worth it… you’re not ready for my kind of chaos, but sure,” she nodded. “i’ll give you two options,” she went on, thinking for a second. “we find a bathroom stall, but that depends on your definition of platonic…” she trailed off, “or we wait until your shift ends, go to a bar i know, ride the bull, and find ourselves a hot hookup,” she shrugged. “as long as you don’t have a girl waiting for you—because in that case, i’m not about to be the reason someone gets cheated on, even if that’s how i make my money.”

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison let out a low laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back, arms folding loosely across his chest. There was something entertaining about the way she carried herself, like every sentence was a dare and every look was meant to test him. He could respect that, even if he wasn’t biting. “Kid?” he repeated with a grin, brows lifting. “That’s cute. Real original, too. Here's to betting that I'm probably older than you too." His gaze dropped briefly to the cigarette she crushed beneath her heel before flicking back up to meet hers, calm and amused. He didn’t seem rattled by the teasing, if anything it only sharpened the easy confidence in him. “When I say platonic,” he said smoothly, “I mean actually platonic. No hidden terms, no fine print, no bathroom stall loopholes.” His tone stayed warm, playful rather than cold. “You’re probably good company, Deena, but I’m not shopping in that department tonight.” He stood up right, hands slipping into his pockets as he gave her a sideways look. “And for the record,” he added, voice lowering just slightly, “yeah, there is somebody I’d rather spend my time on. So you don’t gotta worry about being part of some mess. I don’t move like that.” There was no apology in it, just honesty. Respectful, direct. That said, the corner of his mouth tugged upward again. Harrison let out another quiet laugh, rubbing a hand along his jaw before shaking his head at her offers. He looked at her like she was trouble wrapped up in confidence, and while he found it amusing, he wasn’t about to get pulled under by it. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, voice easy and warm. “I’m a damn good wingman. Could probably have half the bar talking to you before the first round’s done.” His grin tugged wider for a second before softening. “But I’m not looking for a wing woman tonight.” He shifted his weight, shoulders relaxing as his eyes flicked off for a moment toward the building behind them, then back to her. “There’s a girl around here,” he admitted, tone casual but more genuine now. “She comes by my work sometimes. Sweet thing. Got me paying more attention than I should every time she walks in.” He huffed a laugh through his nose, almost at himself. “So truth is, I’m a little too distracted to go chasing anybody else.” Then he lifted a brow at Deena, playful again. “But I am good at flirting,” he added with a crooked smile. “Girls tend to flock to me. You interested in girls or guys?”

[deenastone]

if deena was completely honest, she was starting to lose interest in the conversation. what she had hoped would turn into a fun, chaotic night was slowly becoming a psychological analysis from the man sitting in front of her. “trust me, that’s basically part of the job description,” she said, exhaling smoke lazily. “the ones who should be wearing warning labels are the men that walk into my workplace.” she wasn’t naïve—never had been. she loved spending money, loved chaos, loved nights that went too far, but she understood exactly the kind of men who showed up at the club. men who thought the world—and the girls in it—were made for them. she knew better than that. “i do have layers,” she continued, taking another slow drag before letting the smoke drift out again. “but you’re not going to figure them all out just by analyzing me like this.” she shrugged one shoulder lightly. “people deal with me however they want—when i let them. so at the end of the day, i’m the one with the power.” when he leaned closer, her eyebrows lifted slightly, a small smile curling on her lips. “if i got in trouble with you, that’d probably make it a good night,” she added with a teasing edge. she wasn’t looking for safe. she wanted chaos, something interesting, something that made the night worth it—and if he wasn’t into that, she wouldn’t push. when he repeated that she wasn’t his type, she finished her cigarette with one last drag, dropping it to the ground and crushing it beneath her heel. “you don’t need to trust me,” she said with a careless shrug. “i’m not into naïve people anyway.” then she looked back at him, eyes sharp with amusement. “so what’s it going to be? are you going to keep analyzing me like some internet quiz that tells me which disney princess i am, or are you actually going to do something fun?” she tilted her head slightly. “just so i know if i should stay… or go find trouble somewhere else.”

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison leaned back slightly, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knew exactly what she was testing him on. His gaze stayed locked on hers, sharp and playful. “You know,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “I’m trouble. You’re trouble. Doesn’t that make us evenly matched?” He let the words hang for a moment, letting the tease sink in before leaning forward just enough to close a fraction of the space between them. “And just because you’re not my type, doesn’t mean I’m not down for a little fun.” He shrugged, casual, confident. “I like chaos. I like interesting nights. And right now you seem like the perfect candidate for both. Just know, this is strictly platonic, if that's cool?" Harrison’s grin widened, sharp and slightly dangerous, the kind that promised mischief. “So yeah,” he added, voice dropping low, flirty, teasing, “I could keep analysing you or we could actually do something fun. And somehow, I’m guessing you’d rather I pick the latter.” He let out a quiet laugh, leaning back just enough to let her read the challenge in his eyes. “You’re sharp, I’ll give you that,” he said, smirk softening just a touch. He leaned forward, resting his elbows lightly on the table, closing the space between them. “So, what’s your definition of fun, then?” he asked, voice low, teasing, letting his eyes flick briefly around the room, taking in the other patrons. “Don’t say get free drinks or something,” he added, grin widening, playful and a little dangerous. “I work here. I can do that anyway.” He held her gaze, letting the playful challenge linger, like a dare wrapped in charm. “No,” he continued, voice dropping slightly, just enough to make it intimate, “I mean something worth it. Something that makes the night actually memorable.” His smirk tilted into something more mischievous, that dangerous pull of trouble and curiosity. “Go on,” he teased lightly, leaning just a fraction closer, “I’m ready for your kind of chaos.”

[cassiehernandez]

cassie honestly had no idea how she had agreed to any of this. if she was being completely real with herself, she had handed over her grandma’s ring and accepted the role in exchange for tacos — which, when she thought about it, sounded absolutely insane. she wondered what her therapist would say when she told him about it later that week. still, she had promised herself she would try new things, try anything that might help her win the quiet, exhausting battle she had been fighting with depression. and this definitely counted as new. the way harrison had told her she wasn’t boring, that he didn’t waste time remembering people but somehow still remembered her, had been enough to make her heart flutter for a brief second — a feeling that caught her off guard. maybe she wasn’t as numb as she thought. as they waited in line, she stayed close at his side, still holding his hand. when he suddenly took both of hers, her eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. “harrison…” she whispered, his name barely leaving her lips. when he knelt in front of her, her heart began to race even though she knew it was all pretend. for a moment she stopped listening to what he was saying, her mind spinning through possible reactions — should she cry? laugh? hug him? could she even cry on command? but when he finally asked the big, very fake question, she nodded quickly, the widest smile spreading across her face. she leaned down without thinking and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, surprised by her own impulse before she pulled back again. wrapping her arms around his neck, she laughed breathlessly. “yes — yes, yes, yes!”

[harrison-mccall]

For a split second after the kiss, Harrison just blinked up at her from where he was still kneeling, clearly not the kissing part of the performance. Then the grin hit. Wide. Bright. Completely unfiltered. “Well damn,” he laughed under his breath, shaking his head slightly as he pushed himself up from the ground. The moment he was standing again, he didn’t let go of her, instead his hands slid to her waist and, in one smooth motion, he lifted her a few inches off her feet like the excitement had nowhere else to go and quickly spun them both around. Around them, people had already started clapping, a couple of strangers cheering loudly like they’d just witnessed the most romantic moment of the week. Someone near the front of the line even whistled, and Harrison laughed again, still holding her slightly off the ground before setting her back down. “There it is!” he called out playfully to the small crowd, one arm still loosely around her as he glanced around at the smiling faces. “She said yes!” More clapping followed, a few people grinning at Cassie like they’d been personally invested in the outcome. Harrison looked back down at her then, clearly amused by how quickly the whole thing had turned into a spectacle. His hand squeezed hers again, grounding and warm. His eyes flicked toward the taco stand ahead of them before returning to her with a crooked smile. “And now,” he added, giving her hand a small tug as the line started moving again, “my fiancée deserves tacos.” Harrison had just started guiding Cassie forward with the line again when someone from behind the taco stand leaned over the counter. The manager, a middle-aged man in an apron dusted with flour and salsa stains, disappeared briefly behind the stand. A moment later he came back carrying a large tray absolutely loaded with tacos. The man set the tray down in front of them. “These are for you two,” he said warmly, gesturing toward the mountain of food. “Congratulations on a beautiful relationship.” For once, Harrison looked genuinely caught off guard. His eyebrows shot up as he looked from the tacos, to Cassie, then back to the manager like he was making sure this was actually happening. Then his expression softened into something sincerely grateful. “Oh, man.” Harrison let out a small breath of disbelief before placing a hand flat against his chest, pressing it there in a gesture of genuine thanks. “That’s incredibly kind of you. Thank you.” He gave the man a respectful nod before glancing down at the tray again, clearly impressed. Turning slightly toward Cassie, his grin crept back into place. He picked up one of the tacos and lifted it slightly toward her like a celebratory toast. "To us. To forever."

[cassiehernandez]

cassie couldn’t help rolling her eyes at his comment about regret being half the fun. she knew better—there was nothing fun about regret. she’d lived with enough of it to know that. still, lying on a saturday night for tacos wasn’t exactly on the same level as the things that had truly haunted her. “sure, sure,” she chuckled. “i’ll always have the story about the night i got engaged,” she added, shaking her head, half amused despite herself. they weren’t going to jail over this, but the whole show he was planning definitely hadn’t been on her bingo card for the evening. overthinking while keeping a calm demeanor was cassie’s specialty—that was how she survived, how she presented herself. “okay, for birria tacos, i’ll fake a proposal,” she nodded, glancing at him. she couldn’t believe she was agreeing to this, but it felt too late to back out now. “this version of me?” she arched a brow. “you must have a thing for boring, but sure.” when she casually guided his arm around her shoulders, she surprised even herself. as he leaned in closer, his voice warm against her ear, her heart skipped despite her effort to stay composed. she slipped one of her rings off—the one she never usually removed—and handed it to him. “don’t lose it. it was my grandma’s,” she warned lightly. then she took a breath. “so i act surprised, hug you, and we get tacos? honestly… that sounds manageable.”

[harrison-mccall]

"See? Building memories already," he quipped, though he was secretly impressed by how quickly she was adapting to the absurdity of it all. When she called herself 'boring' and arched that brow, Harrison’s expression shifted. He didn't look at her with the casual indifference of a co-conspirator; he looked at her with a slow, calculating appreciation. To him, the calm demeanor she used to survive wasn't boring, it was the opposite. She didn't need to prove herself to anyone, unlike him and many others, who tried to put up some front to become more likable. "You think you're boring?" he asked, his voice dropping as she guided his arm around her. "You're wrong. I forget people. Not you though." The sudden proximity hit him harder than he expected. The scent of her hair and the weight of her leaning into him made the 'fake' part of this plan feel a lot more complicated. Then, she handed him the ring. The playfulness died in his eyes the moment she mentioned her grandmother. He took the band, the metal still warm from her skin, and closed his fist tightly around it. The gravity of the trust she was placing in him, even for something as trivial as birria tacos, wasn't lost on him. He wasn't just a guy looking for a free meal anymore; he was the keeper of the only thing she seemed to truly value. "I've got it, Cassie. I promise," he said, his voice losing its edge of mischief for a rare moment of sincerity. He squeezed her shoulder, grounding her. "Take a breath. You look perfect. Just look at me like I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, and I’ll handle the rest. Let’s go get those tacos."

The atmosphere was almost too perfect, a stroke of luck that Harrison intended to exploit to its fullest. The taco stand was tucked under a canopy of warm, oversized Edison bulbs that cast a honeyed glow over the mismatched wooden tables. A soft, acoustic guitar cover of a classic love song drifted through the air, competing with the sizzle of marinated meat and the chatter of the crowd. Harrison led Cassie toward the center of the area. Once he was sure they had a captive audience, a couple of teenagers on a date, a large family at the long table, a group of old people, and the staff behind the counter, he came to a halt. He turned to Cassie, his expression shifting into something so profoundly tender it would have been terrifying if she didn't know it was a ruse. He took both of her hands in his, the movement deliberate and slow. "Cassandra," he began, his voice projected just enough to make the surrounding tables go quiet. "I know I told you we were just coming here for dinner. But standing here under these lights I can’t pretend anymore." He dropped slowly to one knee, the gravel crunching beneath him. He looked up at her, his dark eyes brimming with a faux-sincerity that felt dangerously close to the real thing. "You think you’re 'boring,' but to me, you’re the only person who makes the world actually make sense. You’re the logic in my chaos, the calm in every storm I’ve ever walked into. I’ve spent my whole life looking for a reason to stay in one place, and I realised tonight that the reason is you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out her grandmother’s ring, holding it up so the twinkling lights caught the metal. "I don't want another night where I'm not looking across the table at you. I want the boring parts, the hard parts, and everything in between. So, in front of all these witnesses," He paused, a small, devastatingly handsome smile tugging at his lips. "Cassie, will you make me the luckiest man in this taco line? Will you marry me?"

[deenastone]

at his reaction, deena only rolled her eyes, completely unfazed. if he didn’t like it, someone else would—she wasn’t about to lose sleep over one man’s opinion. “nasty as fuck or sexy as fuck, don’t shame people who are into it,” she purred, a sharp glint flashing in her eyes. “i thrive on bad decisions at 2am. it’s basically part of my job description. people literally pick me to be their bad decision,” she added with a slow smirk. “so don’t threaten me with a good time.” she took another drag of her cigarette, this time angling the smoke away from him, deliberate but not apologetic. “i can pay for my own drinks,” she went on coolly, “but flirting for them is half the fun. still, i’ll cover mine.” the mention of him losing his because of her smoke only made her shrug; she’d do it again without hesitation. that was deena—reckless, bold, unapologetic. when he claimed she wasn’t his type, she laughed softly and leaned a little closer. “i would absolutely kick you where it hurts and enjoy it,” she said smoothly, “but it’s bold of you to assume i’m not witty or that i don’t have manners.” another drag. another slow exhale. “i can be cutesy and polite if i really want to. unfortunately, that version of me comes with a price tag. i love money.” she winked, blowing him a playful kiss. “so yeah, i’m dangerous. and your little speech didn’t hurt my feelings.” her eyes held his steadily. “not your type, huh? and yet you’re still standing here flirting with danger.”

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison didn’t miss the eye roll. He noticed it immediately, the deliberate dismissal, the way she wore indifference like perfume. It drew a slow breath from him, half exhale, half restraint. One of his brows arched slightly. “I’m not shaming,” he replied evenly, voice calm but edged with dry amusement. “I’m observing. There’s a difference. If you’re going to make chaos your brand, don’t act surprised when someone reads the label out loud.” When she purred about thriving on bad decisions at 2 a.m., his gaze sharpened. “That so?” he asked, tilting his head faintly. “Sounds less like a job description and more like a warning label.” He didn’t look scandalised. If anything, he looked analytical, like he was trying to decide whether she was performance art or genuinely built that way. A quiet hum left him. “Yeah. I believe that. Some people like touching the stove just to see if it’s still hot.” There was no venom in it. Just fact. When she told him not to threaten her with a good time, that slow smirk in place, he let the corner of his mouth twitch, not quite a smile. “Trust me,” he said smoothly, “if I were threatening you, you’d know.” She took another drag, angling the smoke away from him. He noticed. The control in it. The lack of apology. “Look at that,” he murmured. “Considerate. You do have layers.” When she said she could pay for her own drinks but flirting was half the fun, he gave a short, low chuckle. “I never doubted you could pay,” he replied. “You don’t strike me as someone who waits around to be handled. But flirting for sport?” His gaze dragged over her with deliberate slowness before returning to her eyes. “That’s competitive energy.” Then came the laugh. The lean closer. The promise to kick him where it hurt. That finally earned a real reaction, a brief lift of his chin, eyes narrowing just a touch. “Careful,” he said quietly. “Confidence looks good on you. Overconfidence gets people in trouble.” When she challenged his assumption about her wit and manners, he didn’t interrupt. He let her speak. Let her take her drags. Let her perform. “Honest,” he replied. “I respect that more than fake modesty.” The wink. The blown kiss. Dangerous. His gaze didn’t waver. “Not my type,” he repeated, voice lower now, but not dismissive. He stepped half an inch closer, closing just enough space to make the air shift between them. “I didn’t say you weren’t interesting,” he said evenly. “You are.” There was no mockery in it. No teasing edge. Just fact. “But I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.” His gaze flicked down to the cigarette between her fingers, then back up to her eyes, steady and unflinching. “You thrive on chaos,” he continued, voice low and measured. “ And that’s fine. I’m not judging it. I’m just not naïve about it."

[deenastone]

as she lit the new cigarette, she leaned closer to him. “people know i’m dangerous without me having to say a word,” deena challenged, taking a long drag. “caretakers bore you? you sound like someone who wants to pretend he’s trouble,” she joked, a smirk on her lips as she blew the smoke away from him. “bad decisions are part of your personality, maybe i could learn to like you,” she teased, shaking her head. “a wildcat? that doesn’t scare me, it just sounds like you’re part of a basketball team, you’re tall enough to be on one,” she mused. her eyes dragged over him, from his pretty curls down to his shoes, and she smiled—deena was never subtle, it just wasn’t in her nature. when he mentioned working before deciding to talk to customers, she tilted her head. “my idea of trouble?” she smirked. “flirting with the cutest bartender around so i get free drinks—that’s my low-level trouble on a night like this,” she winked. “but if you’re asking because you’re interested,” she stepped closer, lowering her voice, “i could be much worse than that,” she purred. “you don’t know who you’re talking to, pretty boy, and you’d never guess who i really am just by seeing me out here smoking. i’m dangerous.” she took another drag, this time blowing the smoke straight at him.

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison pulled a face the second the smoke drifted toward him, lips twisting and nose scrunching up in clear disgust as he leaned back. He waved a hand between them. “Ugh, nope. That’s gross,” he said, half-laughing, half-serious. “I don’t care how dangerous you are, blowing smoke in someone’s face is nasty as fuck." Still, there was a glint of amusement in his eyes when she talked herself up. “People do tend to figure out I’m trouble without me spelling it out,” he said lightly, tilting his head. “Not the ‘set things on fire’ kind. More like… make a bad decision at 2 a.m. and wake up thinking, yeah, I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I’m not mad about it.” When she mentioned flirting with the bartender, he tilted his head. “That’s not trouble,” he said. “That’s just talking. With benefits.” He hesitated. “You lost the free drinks on the bartender privilege when you blew smoke into my face, sorry." Harrison tilted his head, weighing it for a second, then decided honesty was easier. He gave a small, crooked smile cheeky, not mean—and lifted his hands a little, like he was setting boundaries rather than throwing punches. “Also,” he said, “you’re not really my type.” He winced slightly, then added quickly, “I mean you’re pretty and all." He glanced at her, then shrugged. “But you feel like the kind of girl who’d absolutely bust my balls for fun." There was no edge in his tone, just candid amusement. "I like wit and manners. You might lack both."

[cassiehernandez]

as she laced her arm with his, she noticed that smirk on his lips, she shook her head at herself. "regret is half of the fun?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. she couldn't believe he was really saying that, it was the first time she had heard anyone say something like that. it was clear she was nothing like him. he looked like he owned the place like he could do anything he wanted, and get out from it without facing consequences, she thought too much and didn't have that spark, she had lost it years ago. "well, if i go to jail, you'll be the one to blame" she mused, looking at him, she knew that couldn't happen, but she kep the joke going. she looked to the frong as he planned their proposal, she tried not to laugh, it was amusing how he was coming up with that one the spot. "tacos sound like something i would enjoy after getting proposed, those that drip in birria sauce" she mused, lookin up at him. "i don't know if it's worth it, but we can try" cassie give in. "i can try fitting the standard of what mrs mccall could be for a couple of minutes" she mused, "i'm not a good actress, what you see is what you get" she mused, looking at harrison. her hand moved to hold his, and smoothly in a way she didn't know she coudl be wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "better this way, babe"

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison let out a low laugh when she called him out on it, that stupid, unapologetic smirk never leaving his face. He tilted his head toward her, eyes gleaming like he thrived on exactly this kind of chaos. “Regret is absolutely half the fun,” he said, dead serious in tone, which only made it worse. “The other half is the story you get to tell later to anybody willing to listen." When she joked about jail, he snorted, squeezing her arm a little tighter as if daring the universe to try him. “Please,” Harrison shot back, straight-forward as ever. “I wouldn't let you take the fall. I'd take the hit for you, promise." He noticed the way she kept glancing forward, the way she overthought everything, and for once, just once, he softened. As she mentioned tacos, specific tacos, he broke into a grin, clearly proud of himself. “Hmm, I'm good with those too” he said. “Romance, fake proposal, immediate birria. It’s a flawless system.” When she finally gave in, talking about fitting the standard of Mrs. McCall, Harrison stopped walking for half a second just to look at her. “Good,” he said plainly. “Because I’d be bored out of my mind if you tried to be anything else. I like this version of you." When she wrapped his arm around her shoulder, smooth and confident despite her doubts, Harrison didn’t hesitate. Harrison slowed just enough to dip his head toward her, shoulders angling in like he was about to share a secret he absolutely should not be sharing. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, warm against her ear, humor dancing through it. “Could I borrow one of your rings?” he murmured, barely holding back a laugh. “My plan is foul-proof. I didn’t actually bring a ring with me. i don't have one." He pulled back just enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye, smirk fully back in place, mischief written all over his face. “I need something to propose with,” he added softly, like this was the most logical solution in the world, “so we can get tacos.”

[deenastone]

by the look on his face, she had surprised him, and that didn’t surprise her at all; that was the effect she had on people, both at work and outside of it. “then it’s a great night for you,” she smirked, “welcome to the night of your dreams,” she chuckled, handing him the cigarette as he took it. “then it must be that the stars guided you here,” she joked, a smile on her lips. when he reached for the nearest ashtray, her eyebrows furrowed. “i’m not looking for a caretaker,” she pointed out, her hand moving to her bag as a red, sparkly tin caught the streetlight. “and i don’t need a savior, i thrive on bad decisions,” she promised with a smile. “that’s why i’m smoking outside a bar,” she added, “i just wanted company.” she pulled out another cigarette and held it gently between her lips. “if you want to save me, prince charming, you should go; i’m way too much trouble for you, for sure,” she said, lighting it until the tip burned red, then blowing the smoke away from the blond. “so what brings you here, handsome?”

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison’s mouth twitched, half-smile, half-challenge, like he’d just been dared and was already planning to make it worse. He didn’t bother denying the surprise; he leaned into it, shoulders loose, eyes bright with mischief. “Careful, he drawled, you talk like that and people might think you’re dangerous.” A beat. “Caretakers bore me. And saviors?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, no. I’ve got enough sins of my own to manage. Besides,” he added, eyes flicking back to her, “bad decisions are kind of my specialty. Anyone that knows me would you tell you that I'm a wildcard." At the prince charming comment, he leaned a little closer, grin sharp and unapologetic. “Trouble doesn’t scare me,” he said lightly. “Trouble usually invites me in.” Then, finally, to her question, he shrugged as if the universe had simply misplaced him here. “Honestly?” he said. “I was minding my own business, and then I wasn’t. I work here. Figured if I’m standing outside a bar at night, I might as well make conversations with the customers to keep my sanity in check." Harrison leaned back against the post he’d been hovering near, metal cool through his jacket, posture easy like he hadn’t a care in the world. “What’s your idea of trouble?” he asked, tone lazy but eyes sharp, glinting with challenge. A crooked grin pulled at his mouth as he tilted his head. “Surprise me.”

[cassiehernandez]

there was something so inviting about him—the way he looked at her, that easy, charming smile, the way his eyes seemed to catch every little thing she did. she was about to answer his question when he stopped her, telling her not to, and she rolled her eyes in response. still, a small smile tugged at her lips, a real one, the kind she hadn’t felt in a long time—not since she lost her grandpa and grief settled in her chest like a quiet, creeping fog, always there, always reminding her she couldn’t quite be fully happy. when they stepped outside, the cold wind hit them head-on, and she wrapped her arms around herself. he moved closer without hesitation, clearly enjoying the moment, and she glanced at him as he spoke. “start easy sounds good,” she nodded, maybe that was exactly what she needed—something simple, something light, even as she tried to figure him out. when he called her chicken, her head tilted, eyes lifting to meet his blue gaze. “i’m not chicken,” she said, shaking her head. “you scare me, sure—but not enough to make me say no,” she added with a touch of sass, pushing past the tall walls she’d built around herself, wondering if playing along might help her forget the doubts and the sadness, even if only for a while. “a dare?” she echoed, brows lifting. “harmless manipulation? that sounds like i’ll end up in jail,” she teased, shaking her head at him. “and now you want to fake a proposal for free food?” she scoffed, clearly mocking him, though amusement sparkled in her eyes. without really thinking about it, she slipped her arm through his, the way couples who’d been together forever did, letting them walk side by side. she shook her head again, half-smiling. “i feel like i’m going to regret this,” she admitted, “but… where do you want to go?”

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison’s grin widened, that mischievous curl at the corner of his mouth making it clear he was thoroughly entertained. He caught her arm sliding through his with a mock sigh, like she’d just handed him a victory he hadn’t even tried to earn. “Regret? Oh, that’s half the fun,” he said smoothly, eyes glinting with that teasing spark she already couldn’t quite read. “I like that you’re not chicken,” he added, voice low, sarcastic, but warm at the edges. “Scared enough to feel alive, but not scared enough to bail. That’s my kind of thrill.” He leaned a little closer, letting the words hang in the air like a dare, that trademark charm making it impossible for her not to smirk back. “We aren’t going to get jail time for a fake proposal, Cass,” he said, voice smooth, teasing. “We just want the benefits of some hot free food.” He tilted his head, letting the breeze play with his jacket, eyes flicking to hers like he was challenging her without saying it outright. “Where do I want to go?” he mused, the corner of his smile twitching. “Somewhere with people. Somewhere romantic. Maybe the park? Hot dogs, tacos, pretzels…” he muttered under his breath, like he was tasting them before he even moved. “Funnel cakes… maybe something with chocolate. Yeah, free food never looked so good.” He shot her a mischievous glance, all charm and teasing light in his eyes. “See? Now you get why a fake proposal is completely worth it.” Then, with a playful shove of his shoulder against hers, he added, “Come on, what do you say? Ready to Mrs McCall for a few minutes?"

[cassiehernandez]

after a couple of minutes of telling harrison to look for her, she already regretted it; she didn’t even know how any of this worked. she had wanted to leave — maybe if she was lucky she wouldn’t see that cute bartender again — but something in her told her to stay, whether she understood why or not. she sat at a table, scanning the room: friends laughing together, girls drinking for courage, everyone tucked into their own little worlds… and she was there alone. she usually didn’t mind, but being alone here was doing something strange to her chest. she shook her head and scrolled through her phone, debating whether she should leave, but then she felt someone brush her shoulder. she glanced up and there he was — harrison, with that easy, charming smile he carried around like second nature. “depends on the kind of mischief, i don’t want to go to jail,” she said as she stood from her seat and pulled on her long coat, wrapping a brown scarf around her neck before looking at him again. “i guess i’m ready.” deep down she was scared of whatever he had in mind, even if she had been the one to tell him she was ready for it. maybe she just wanted to prove herself wrong, or maybe it was because she found him handsome, endearing, all confidence and charm in a way that made her stomach tighten. she could already feel the heat of the bar under all those layers, hating it, so she started toward the exit instead, preferring the cold that waited outside. she even glanced back at him as she walked, checking he was following. “so… what did you have in mind?”

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison followed her with that unhurried confidence of his, hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket as if he had all the time in the world. The moment she mentioned jail, he let out a low, amused laugh — the kind that warmed the edges of his voice. “Jail?” he echoed in that teasing, boyish tone, one brow lifting. “C’mon, do I look like a criminal? Actually— don’t answer that. I like keeping some mystery about me." He gave her a quick once-over as she wrapped her scarf, pretending to scrutinize her like she might be the suspicious one instead. The smirk tugging at his mouth made it clear he was enjoying himself far too much. When she started toward the exit, Harrison fell into step behind her without hesitation, weaving through the crowd with lazy ease. He watched her glance back at him — and yeah, he caught that — so he flashed her a half-smile, all charm and just a touch of mischief. “What did I have in mind?” he repeated, stepping close enough that the wind didn’t swallow his words. He nudged her shoulder lightly with his own, playful, letting the tease hang before he softened it with something gentler. “I figured we’d start easy. A walk. Fresh air. Let you catch your breath before I decide what kind of trouble you can actually handle.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment — warm, inviting, quietly intent. “Unless,” he added, tilting his head, “you’re chicken." He stepped a little closer, hands still in his pockets, voice dropping to that playful, conspiratorial tone he seemed to reserve just for teasing her. “Alright,” he said, leaning in as if sharing a secret, “how about a dare?” The corner of his mouth curled. “Let’s go to some food truck and work our charm, improv, a little harmless manipulation.” He paused, pretending to assess her with exaggerated seriousness. “Or…” The smirk returned, bigger this time. “I can fake propose to you somewhere, act all in love and we see who gives us free food. Might be nice to get some warm grub out in is cold."

[deenastone]

deena took a long drag from the cigarette in her hand; she wasn’t working that night, maybe that’s why she was actually enjoying herself. she was at a bar when she noticed someone looking at her, her eyebrows furrowing. “do you know me?” she asked, not giving them much importance. “whatever, do you want to join me?” she mused, reaching out to offer them her cigarette if they wanted to take it.

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison, still caught off guard by her direct approach, hesitated for a moment. He didn’t know her, hadn’t seen her around before, but the way she spoke—so confident, almost nonchalant—made him feel like he should at least play along. “No, I don’t think we’ve met,” he said with a slight shrug, though he was still curious about what kind of person she was. The offer of the cigarette was unexpected, but he took it anyway. “Why not?” he added, settling into the conversation more than he expected. "Not like I've got anywhere else to be." He took a long enough glance at the cigarette, then he reached over to the nearest ashtray and gently stubbed it out. The move was smooth, almost teasing, and he shot her a lopsided grin as he did it. “Smoking’s bad for your health,” he said, the warning delivered in a tone far too playful to be taken seriously. “Figured I’d save you from at least one of these tonight."

[cassiehernandez]

cassie could feel the air between them tightening with every word he said, like he was spinning something invisible around her, pulling her closer without even touching her. he carried himself like he’d been made for moments like this — the confidence in his voice, the way he leaned in just enough to make her forget how to breathe, the half-smile that never left his lips, daring her to keep looking. and she did. she couldn’t not. “i do think you’re trouble,” she said finally, her voice steady even as her pulse betrayed her, thudding fast against her ribs. when he asked if she could keep up, her lips curved slightly, her gaze flickering down to his mouth before meeting his again. “keeping up is something i learned how to do.” the words left her like a quiet promise, soft but certain. she didn’t know what she was doing anymore — just that she didn’t want it to stop. “sometimes you have to risk it all, try something new,” she added, the honesty slipping out before she could stop it. “maybe i’m down for a little trouble.” and then he took her drink, eyes never leaving hers, and something inside her fluttered so hard it almost hurt. “all yours,” she managed, the words coming out low, almost breathless. when he leaned in even closer, his voice a whisper of temptation, cassie’s resolve wavered, her heart a mess of adrenaline and want. she tilted her head slightly, closing the distance just enough for him to hear her. “maybe i do need someone to show me what fun looks like,” she whispered back, the corners of her lips lifting. then she stood, needing air, needing space to think before she forgot how. “i’ll be around,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “look for me.” and then she walked away, her heart still beating to the rhythm he’d set.

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison wiped down the last corner of the bar with a practiced flick of the rag, the scent of lime and old whiskey still clinging to the wood beneath his fingertips. His shift had dragged — the usual late night mix of regulars, flirts, and the occasional spilled drink — but he hadn’t forgotten. He tossed the towel into the bin behind the counter, untying his apron in one smooth motion. The dark fabric hung over his shoulder as he ducked into the back, grabbing his worn leather jacket and slinging his bag over one shoulder. Keys, phone, wallet. Done. He stepped out from behind the bar with the unhurried confidence of someone used to being watched — and sure enough, he was. A pair of girls near the jukebox glanced over, their conversation slowing. Another group by the booths followed him with their eyes, and one even nudged her friend, whispering something with a little too much volume. Harrison didn’t break stride, just offered a quick, easy smile and a nod in their direction — friendly, polite, nothing more. But he wasn’t looking for them. His gaze swept across the bar, sharp but casual, scanning faces and shoulders and silhouettes. He was looking for her — the pretty girl who said he was trouble - the one who’d told him, half-laughing and half-serious, to “look for me”. As he reached her, he leaned down just enough to brush his shoulder against hers, nudging her side with a playful grin. “Hey, trouble,” he murmured, voice low, the kind of tone that made it feel like the whole bar faded out behind them. “You wanna head out of here and cause some mischief together?” He raised an eyebrow, just a little, waiting for the spark he already knew was coming.

[cassiehernandez]

cassie was just following what sounded right in the moment; she could feel the tension, of course she could—she wasn’t used to it, not after so many years—but maybe that was what she wanted. there was something magnetic about him, she couldn’t tell if it was his eyes, the way he spoke, or the way he moved like he owned the place. still, she was signing herself up for something with an unknown ending, and for once she let herself go—maybe that was part of why she’d moved, to find herself. when he looked around a soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips; he wasn’t supposed to be doing that while working, but it was easy to see. she knew what chaos meant, though not the kind he might imagine—she knew the chaos of being alone, of losing so much time to autopilot chores, with only her grandpa truly there. “i don’t know, you tell me,” she said softly, shrugging. when he asked if she was trouble, cassie hesitated. “i wouldn’t say i am,” she answered, “but i think you’re more than enough trouble for both of us,” she added, the sentence landing like something practiced, and it clearly suggested he had plans—probably to live up to that title.

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison heard her words—and felt the weight of them, playful and curious, like she was tugging on a thread to see if he'd unravel. He liked that. She wasn’t just following the script—she was improvising, dancing just outside the lines. That little shrug, that soft voice, that knowing smile when she thought he wasn’t looking? Yeah, he noticed. He noticed everything. He leaned in just a little—not too much, just enough for her to feel the pull. His voice was low, smooth, amused. “You think I’m trouble?” he asked, eyebrow cocked, lips tilting into a half-grin that knew more than it let on. He let the silence stretch between them for a second, comfortable in it, like he was giving her a chance to catch her breath. Or decide if she even wanted to.“And if I am more than enough trouble…” he said, tapping a slow rhythm on the table with two fingers, “…maybe the real question is—can you keep up?” His eyes didn’t waver. They held hers like a secret. Cassie intrigued him—not just because she was clearly not used to the tension but because she didn’t run from it. She leaned in. She gave as good as she got. That wasn’t something he saw every day. “You’ve got this look in your eyes, Cassie.” His voice dropped a notch, not quite serious, not quite teasing—right in the middle. “Like you’re thinking about saying yes to something you shouldn't.” He smiled then, slow and dangerous, the kind of smile that promised exactly the kind of chaos she hinted at. “I say go for it. Worst case? You’ll end up in just the right kind of trouble.” Harrison glanced down at her drink, then up at her with that spark in his eye—the kind that said he was already halfway into whatever game she didn’t know she was playing yet. Smoothly, deliberately, he reached over and took her glass without asking, never breaking eye contact. “Hope you don’t mind,” he murmured, before taking a slow swig—just enough to make it cocky, not enough to be rude. He set it back down in front of her, just a little closer than before, like a dare. Then, leaning in with a lazy grin, he dropped the line like it had been waiting on the tip of his tongue all night. “So… after my shift,” he said, voice low, almost conspiratorial, “you game to have some fun?”

[cassiehernandez]

she didn’t know who was trying harder to read the other, his eyes on hers the same way hers were on his, and honestly, it lowkey amused her. she hadn’t expected anything like this to happen if she was being honest. she’d enjoyed his drink—it was obvious without her saying a word—it had surprised her, though not as much as the fact that the bartender was actually being this nice to her when she’d first walked into the bar. when she asked about any other possible “mistakes” to fall for that night, she knew what she was hinting at—maybe she didn’t fully understand it yet—but the way he leaned in told her she’d sparked something in him. maybe curiosity, but either way, she couldn’t back out now. at his question, she raised her eyebrows, “honestly, what do you recommend?” was that her way of flirting? that playful cassie hadn’t shown up in so long. at his mention of mistakes she could choose to make with someone, her brows lifted again as she watched him make his way across the bar, his eyes locked on hers with that grin—it was clear he was enjoying himself, and she could tell. when he introduced himself as her “mistake and mayhem maker,” her brows rose in amusement, her gaze shifting from his hand back to his eyes. he sounded like trouble, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted it—but she also knew it’d be stupid not to shake his hand. “cassie,” she said softly, shaking it, “mayhem maker?” her voice carried a mix of amusement, surprise… and intrigue.

[harrison-mccall]

Harrison caught the playful tension in the air—the way their eyes held each other, neither backing down, and it genuinely amused him. He hadn’t expected this kind of spark either, but he was enjoying every moment. He noticed she’d liked the drink without needing to say it, and he was glad. When she hinted at 'mistakes' to fall for, Harrison leaned in just a little, letting her know she’d definitely caught his curiosity. Whether she fully understood what she was stirring up or not, there was no turning back now. He leaned across the bar with confidence, eyes locked on hers, that grin growing wider. Introducing himself as the one and only “mistake and mayhem maker,” he enjoyed watching her reaction—the mix of amusement, surprise, and intrigue playing across her face. He sounded like trouble, sure, but trouble she might just want. And when she shook his hand softly, saying his title back to him, Harrison felt the thrill of the moment—knowing they’d both stepped into something unpredictable. Harrison smirked, his eyes gleaming with that familiar spark. “The one and only,” he said with a cocky nod. “I’m known for causing a little trouble and getting myself caught up in it all. But hey, what’s life without a little chaos?” Harrison glanced to the side, quickly checking if his bar manager was watching—but the coast was clear. Leaning forward, he hid half his face behind his hand and grinned mischievously. “So… are you trouble too, or what?”

[cassiehernandez]

the way he was trying to read her, just by little things like saying she didn’t seem like the type to be told what to like, made her take notice. she was observant enough to catch how his gaze flicked to her lips as he licked his own—it wasn’t too obvious, but it was enough to make her feel slightly nervous, something she wasn’t used to, especially not from going out alone, not to talk to anyone beyond a simple “i would have...” and whatever choice she was down to try. as she tasted what seemed to be his own secret recipe, she couldn’t deny she liked it—it was sweet with just the right kind of burn at the end. he had a smile that most people would kill for, the kind that could leave anyone breathless. "i think that would be a good name for a drink," she nodded, looking at the cup in her hands before glancing back up at him. the way he somehow looked good even while doing something as simple as wiping down the bar with a towel—the charm he radiated—it was honestly both captivating and amusing. his name was already etched into her mind without her even meaning for it to happen. she couldn’t quite figure out what it was that gave him that effortless confidence, maybe the smile, maybe the way he spoke like he owned the world. maybe she didn’t show it, because of her own calm demeanor, but she was honestly captivated. she wasn’t about to drool over him like the girl he’d mentioned before, but she was definitely shook. "i wasn’t expecting to have to keep a secret tonight," she said, catching the glint in his eyes, "but i’ll keep it," she added, lifting her drink to her lips, sipping slowly, her eyes still locked on his. wasn’t that what people did? she wasn’t entirely sure, but what she did know was that she shouldn’t have more than this one drink if she didn’t want to regret it later because of her pills. "is there any other mistake i should try tonight?"

[harrison-mccall]

Cassie noticed things—he could tell. The way her eyes tracked him, flickering down just once as he licked his lips. It wasn’t a power play on his part, not fully—it was instinct, a touch of awareness in how he carried himself. He wasn’t trying to be obvious, but he also wasn’t hiding that he found her intriguing. Her reaction, that tiny flicker of nerves in someone who clearly wasn’t used to being unsettled, told him enough. He watched as she took the first sip of the drink—his drink. That mattered. Her reaction was subtle, but it was genuine. She didn’t have to say she liked it. He saw it in the pause, in the slight softening of her gaze, the thoughtful purse of her lips. Sweet with a burn. That’s what he went for. Something that lingered. Something to be remembered. He caught the glance she gave him, that lift of her eyes after studying the cup like it held more than just liquid. That look—quiet, but loaded—landed. He didn’t need her to drool like others might have. This was different. She was different. Calm, collected, and completely aware, even as something flickered behind her cool exterior. He liked that. The towel in his hand felt like a prop now, something to keep him grounded. He leaned forward slightly, just enough to show he was tuned in. Not crowding her. Just anchoring the moment. “That depends,” he said, lips curving into a slow smile. “You looking to make another mistake… or just collect them?” She was captivating, and he knew exactly what he was doing now. Reading her, yes—but also letting himself be read. Because with her, it was already clear: honesty wrapped in charm worked better than any line ever could. “I could think of plenty mistakes for you to make with someone,” he said. Then, with that same disarming confidence, he reached across the bar, hand extended—not rushed, not overplayed, just smooth, deliberate, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment to introduce himself properly. His eyes didn’t leave hers as the corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing grin. “Hi,” he said, his tone dipped in mischief, “I’m Harrison. Your mistake and mayhem maker.” The offer of his hand was more than just polite—it was a spark, an unspoken dare. And he wondered, as she looked at him—if she’d take it. And if she did, whether she knew she’d already made the first mistake of the night.

[cassiehernandez]

cassie looked at the man, there was something in his eyes that told her he was trying to read her, but he wasn't going to be able to—she was a closed book. and sadly, she wasn't going to open up to him. why would she? he was a random bartender at a bar she didn’t even know if she’d ever go back to. he was handsome, anyone could tell that, probably the reason the cute girl was looking at him the way she did. she glanced at the girl—she wasn’t like her, and it wasn’t something bad, but sometimes she wished she was. the way he was leaning closer to her totally told cassie he was flirting, shamelessly flirting, or at least that’s what she thought. "so, you're the only one who i can ask this to?" she asked, an amused smile on her lips. "if i don't like it, it will be a nice thing," she tried to joke. cassie stood there, unshaken, as he leaned closer, like it didn’t get to her—though she wondered if he could tell how for a second she felt like she couldn’t breathe. she was sure she hadn’t managed to hide it when he mentioned he didn’t bite—but could. that had made the girl nervous, if she was honest, the implication being what made her feel like her heart skipped a beat for some reason. she could tell why that girl was looking at him that way—the way he moved so easily, grinned, and was full of charm was attractive, she couldn’t deny it. as if she was mirroring him, and without even noticing it until it was done, she licked her bottom lip just like he had. she closed her eyes. that had been lame. "okay, then i'll have to try it," she nodded. he took the cup to her lips and before she even tasted it, her eyes moved to meet his. as she took a sip, he noticed how right he had been—how it burned—but even if it did, there was something sweet about it, something that didn’t leave her mouth tasting like rubber the way some other drinks had. "okay, this is... actually good," she said softly. "i guess if you're right, you probably leave a good aftertaste... but you bite, wow, that was strong." a chuckle left her lips, a real one.

[harrison-mccall]

He leaned in just a bit more—not too much to push, just enough to play—and tilted his head like he was letting her in on a secret only they were in on. “Well,” he said, voice smooth with a lazy drawl, “you don’t strike me as the type who likes being told what she’ll like. So yeah… I figured I'd give you something not maybe people get to try." His eyes dropped briefly to her lips when she licked them—just a flash of a glance, not subtle but not lewd either. He raised a brow, playful, then gently lifted the cup toward her.And when she finally tasted it, when her face didn’t twist or recoil, he saw that spark of surprise, the almost-smile before her words even confirmed it. Harrison grinned wider, tongue flicking lightly across his own lip, mirroring back in kind, maybe even on purpose. “Told you,” he said, fingers brushing against hers as he took the cup back—accidentally on purpose, of course. “Sweet burn, like a good mistake.” Then, with a chuckle that matched hers, his voice dipped just slightly lower, amused but with heat under it. “And hey, I warned you I bite. Most good things do.” He winked, just once, and started wiping the bar with a towel, all casual charm like none of that meant anything at all. Except, of course, it did. "Now if you ever come back here and want this exact drink the only person you can ask for is me, Harrison." Harrison tilted his head toward the shelves behind him, eyes skimming over the neatly arranged bottles like he was surveying old friends with too much personality and too high a price tag. “Half of these,” he said, gesturing lazily with a flick of his towel, “are just fancy names for expensive mistakes.” He turned back to her with a conspiratorial smirk, voice dropping just enough to make it feel like a secret slipping between them. “My own signatures? On the house. Perks of knowing the bartender.” He leaned in a touch again, close enough for her to catch the glint in his eye. “Don’t tell my boss, though. That's our secret."