s*x on the beach?

Harley

"Ah, I'm so screwed," I groaned, slamming my fist onto the bar counter with more force than intended.

"Ouch!" I winced, rubbing my head as I slumped forward, pressing my forehead against the cold wood. The bass of the club's music pulsed through my body, but it couldn't drown out the chaos in my mind.

A biker? A famous CEO? The same guy who used to sit in the back of the class, scowling like the world had wronged him? Clad Storm—voted most likely to fail because of his antisocial behavior—was now the CEO of RevMotor Sports? Someone needed to dig a hole for me, stat.

I let out a frustrated groan and covered my ears with both hands, hoping to block out reality.

"Do you think she's okay?" Rebecca's voice cut through the music, tinged with concern.

"I don't know. Not only did she drink way too much for her first time, but she also shattered every rule in the book she lives by," Mandy replied, her tone laced with worry.

"Yeah, she's been trying to stop cussing because her mom would kill her if she heard how crude her language had become since she moved to New York," Rebecca added.

"Oh yeah, I remember. She almost got deported after cussing at her mom on the phone. What year was it again?" Mandy asked.

"Third year," Rebecca answered.

I gritted my teeth. They really weren't going to let me drown in my misery in peace, were they?

"I can hear you," I mumbled against the counter.

Rebecca pried my hands away and leaned in. "We know, Harls. We're going down memory lane to remind you that you're a fighter..." She paused before adding, "Like, literally."

"Yeah, you can't let this wreck you. It's not even halfway through the year, and we're not about to let you spiral," Mandy added, her voice softer now.

I straightened, meeting their gazes. They had a point, but it wasn't that easy. I couldn't just flip a switch and pretend none of this mattered. I wished I could. God, I wanted to. But I had spent four years in law school avoiding relationships, haunted by a heartbreak I never fully confronted. Now, here I was again—history repeating itself, except this time, the wound cut deeper.

I sighed, but before I could get lost in my thoughts, Rebecca—my dear, reckless friend who always remembered the most incriminating details—spoke up.

"Yeah, Harls, especially after you screamed and scratched—yes, scratched—your way out of being shipped back to London when you cussed at your mom by mistake."

I choked on my own saliva. "How do you always remember the worst stories and throw them back at me?" I shot back, narrowing my eyes.

Mandy answered with a smirk, "Trust me, girl. She's our dirty laundry keeper. Typical lawyer trait."

Rebecca grinned, unrepentant. "That's what friends are for."

I scoffed. "I'm reconsidering our friendship."

"Too late for that," Mandy said with a teasing grin.

Rebecca waved off my faux indignation. "On a serious note, what are you going to do?"

"About a job?" I clarified, swirling the remnants of my drink.

"That, and your broken heart," she said delicately, like she was afraid I'd shatter.

Rebecca was great at reality checks, but emotional conversations? Not her strong suit.

I sighed. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" Rebecca asked.

"Act like this is my first heartbreak."

"Correction: re-experiencing," Mandy said, taking a sip of her cocktail.

"Yes, thanks for that. Re-experiencing," I muttered, rolling my eyes. My heartbreaks came in cycles, and my friends knew it.

"As for the job—I don't know. And honestly, I don't want to think about it right now. That's a whole other baggage," I admitted, my throat tightening. "I still haven't processed it. Not yet. Kimberly was... like a sister. She guided me when I first joined the firm. I climbed the ranks because of her. And now..." My voice wavered.

Betrayal stung worse than unemployment. Money wasn't the issue—I had savings. But trusting someone, believing they had my back, only for them to stab me in it? That left scars.

"I never thought she'd do that to me," I whispered.

Silence settled between us, heavy and unspoken, before Rebecca finally broke it.

"That was a low blow, even for her. She's ruthless, but this? This was disgusting. Unprofessional. I wanted to quit and leave with you."

Mandy and I shot her sharp looks. "Oh no, you don't. You have an entire household depending on you," Mandy scolded.

"Yeah, Becky, thanks, but think of Aunt Flora. She would be stressed again if you left. Stay. You need the money," I added, the words bitter in my mouth but true.

To shake off the tension suffocating us, I forced a smirk. "As for Clad, who cares? We met, but so what? I doubt he was as hung up on me as I was on him. So, I'll do what I do best—forget him." Or at least try.

"Oh no," Mandy murmured.

"Here it comes," Rebecca added.

I puffed out my chest and threw my arms up. "Clad! Clad! Clad!" I shouted, ignoring the side-eyes from people nearby.

"Hu~~" I sighed dramatically. "Much better."

"Can't believe you still do that," Rebecca said dryly.

"Therapists never lie," I quipped. "Now, maybe we could have sex on the beach?"

Timmy, our bartender, nodded, already making the drink. I grinned, tossing back the rest of my cocktail in one gulp.

And then a voice, deep and rich like aged whiskey, slid down my spine, sending a shock straight to my core.

"Sex on the beach? Just you and me? Think you can handle that, Harley?"

I choked. Again.