We make it out of the exit and take a sharp right to head toward the car. She bumps into me and then snuggles under my arm. “Did you have a good time?” she asks when we’re clear of the crowds.

“I did.” A half-truth is better than a lie.

“I’m not ready for the night to end.”

The unsubtle batting of the eyelashes, the way the back of her hand is practically glued to mine, and the shared glances, I think it’s safe to say, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

With the crowd flooding down the street around us, we stay with the flow. I keep her tucked under my arm when a group passing is oblivious to her presence.

She looks up at me, and asks, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you hoping I’d say that?”

Oh. Um. I scratch the back of my neck. “I’m not ready to say good night to you either.”

“You say such sweet things to me, Harbor.” She double steps, walking backward in front of me. “Why do you have to be so good?”

“Good to you? Because I like you, and you deserve it. You have a good heart, Lark.”

Though others are rowdy in the vicinity, I’m more in tune with her. She’s the kind of good that needs to be protected at all costs, the light that makes a day shine brighter, and my night worth staying awake longer. I scratch the back of my neck as my head fills with nonsense. What am I doing?

Lark’s great, but I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time. For good reason. I’m a fucking mess. She doesn’t need me to dump that on her. But fuck, she’s gorgeous, and that mouth—whether speaking or kissing—tells me to fuck it all and go for it. She’s worth the mess and pain, the lost early morning hours.

She takes my wrist, holding it between her hands, and double steps. “This was fun.”

“It was.” I give my trust to the hands of fate and swear I’ll never complain about the direction our lives take if it means more of Lark in my life. I ask, “Are you hungry?”

“I wish we had somewhere else we could go, grab a meal, and spend time together.”

“Everything’s shutting down at this hour.”

She sighs. “That’s too bad.” Suddenly, she pulls me to the side of a building, out of the main foot traffic of the sidewalk. Stopping abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk, she digs into her bag and pulls out her phone. With her eyes on the screen, she says, “My friend invited us to a party over on Delaware Avenue.” She looks up at me. “Do you know where that is?”

Too well. It’s not an area of town I visit anymore. I run my hand through my hair and look to the side. It’s quieter, most clubbers already gone from the area. I reply, “I know.”

She drops her phone back in the small bag looped around her body and takes my hand. The connection is felt strong in my chest, causing me to stand straighter as energy vibrates between us. Anticipation. Exhilaration. The feeling of something new, something beautiful blooming between us. She asks, “Do you want to go?”