“Don’t you dare post those on social media!” Nash yells. “Anna will kill me, slowly and painfully.”

“Nash, it’s your bachelor party!” I laugh. “You’re gonna have nothing but tits and ass in your face at the strip club later tonight.”

“No strip clubs.” He shakes his head vehemently.

At the mention of no strip clubs Kevin gasps out loud, flashing me a wide-eyed look of horror and disbelief as if he’s a 7-year-old kid who’s just been told Santa Claus isn’t real. I shake my head, dismissing his concern with a wink, which makes his shoulders sag in relief and his boyish grin reappears.

“Can I sit here?”

I look up to see Harley standing above me, pointing to the seat beside me. I meet his eyes, finding a knowing look within them, one that matches the hint of the smile pulling at his lips. Once again, I feel my cheeks heat of their own accord, and I roll my eyes at myself before sliding across the seat to allow room for him as he sits down. His body is so close, and I’m fully aware of his thigh brushing against mine. I chance a look at him and he offers me a smile that hints at his dimples, quirking one of his eyebrows. “Can we please put last night behind us and just have fun today?” he whispers close to my ear so no one can overhear him.

I swallow hard as the memory of last night’s painful humiliation floods through me. It still hurts, but I manage a nod, pressing my lips together with the best smile I can offer. He holds his hand out, palm up, and I look down at it, my brow furrowed in confusion when I meet his eyes once again. He chuckles to himself. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he reaches down and takes my hand in his, his fingers threading mine before resting our interlocked hands on his thigh.

I wish I had the ability to act cool, calm and collected in those moments where I’m anything but on the inside. But I’m so embarrassing. I always have been. And right now, I sit there frozen—stunned—staring down at our hands. I don’t even breathe. Maybe it’s the unexpected way in which my body is reacting to his touch. Maybe it’s the smile still lingering on his lips. Or maybe, it’s the fact that Harley Shaw is holding my hand despite the fact that we’re seated in the back and no one can even see whether or not we’re holding hands. I don’t know what this is, but I know it isn’t just for show; he wants to hold my hand, and I want him to want to hold my hand. I don’t miss the obvious beats my heart skips as we sit together in an awkwardly companionable silence.

And in that very moment, with a million and one conflicting thoughts racing through my mind, all I can be sure of is one thing as I release the breath I’ve been holding on to. I don’t just like Harley. I, Alice Murphy, am head over heels in love with the guy, and now I don’t even know what to think.