Page 52 of Tangled Desires

The rest of us whip our heads her way, and she throws up her hands. “What? C’mon, as if you all didn’t see you two getting together sooner or later.”

I roll my eyes. “We’re not ‘a thing.’ We’re…” What the hell even are we? Co-parents? Roommates with a baby on the way… with the occasional benefits? The words get stuck in my throat, awkward as hell.

Isla nudges me, grinning. “Keep telling yourself that, Midge. But don’t expect us to believe it.”

Olivia leans in, brow raised. “Yeah, no way you two are keeping it platonic. Not buying it.”

Platonic? Yeah, right. My mind betrays me, flashing to the other morning when he had me spread out, eating me like a manstarved. A shiver runs through me at the memory, heat pooling low and relentless. Crossing my legs, I try—unsuccessfully—to will the ache away. Damn him.

“Yeah, we all know there’s enough tension there to light up the whole bloody bar.”

I roll my eyes, smirking. “Oh, piss off. You’re all impossible.”

The boys slide closer. Xavier drapes his arm over Isla, his thumb lazily brushing her collarbone. Bradley moves behind Amelia, sweeping her hair to the side with a tenderness that makes my stomach churn. God, they’re so disgustingly sweet I might gag.

Some poor soul butchersRoxanneover the speakers, and Liv shouts above the chaos, “Who’s coming with me next?”

“Oh, we’re all going!” Isla declares, dragging me to my feet before I can protest. I grab Amelia on the way, and the three of us stumble toward the stage, giggling like schoolgirls. The boys cheer as we pass, Harrison’s whistle cutting through the noise. And of course, I look. The man is ridiculous—white singlet, open black button-up, jeans, boots, and that stupid backward trucker cap. Criminal.

Hormones, please calm down.

The opening chords ofLove Storyblare out, and Isla shoves the mic into my hand, grinning like she’s won a bet. I groan but take it, and the four of us dive into the first verse. The crowd goes wild, voices joining ours as we belt out the chorus.

“Don’t be afraid, we’ll make it out of this mess…”My eyes flick to Harrison, and the words hit harder than they should. Whateverthisis, it’s messy, alright.“It’s a love story, baby, just say, ‘Yes’…”

The guys cheer, their faces lit up with shit-eating grins. Olivia and Amelia are practically bouncing beside me, their movements so out of rhythm it’s hilarious. Isla belts out the lyrics, her confidence drowning out any off-key notes. For afleeting moment, the weight of everything lifts. The song, the noise, the energy—it’s all-consuming. Frustrations? Gone.

The boys take their turn at the mic, with Michael winning the battle by a landslide, pulling Sweet Caroline out of his back pocket. Harrison tried to get them on Eminem, but everyone shot that idea down faster than a bottle of tequila at a bachelor party. I’m honestly surprised Bradley even joined, but the real shocker? Harrison can sing. Like, actually sing. My eyes stay locked on him, the sight of him under the stage lights doing his best Neil Diamond or whatever, while I sip my Coke and try not to let it show how much I’m enjoying the view.

Amelia bumps hips with me and leans in above the music. “And you sayplatonic.Mhm, sure.”

I frown at her, glancing sideways. “What? What do you mean?”

“Oh, I get it now,” she grins, her eyes practically twinkling. “You know, what people used to say when I’d look at Bradley? You’ve got that same look—except yours is saying you want tofuck him.”

I stare at her, floored.Who is this, and what has she done with sweet, sweet Amelia?I smirk, nudging her back as if to say,oh, shush.But her words stick. Every look, every sway of Harrison under those lights is sending a pulse through me, and I realise I’m ready to gonow.

It doesn’t help that I’ve already had to pull out my Satisfyer Pro multiple times this week, and after that awkward phone call with my midwife to confirm the vibrations were safe for the baby, I’ve practically worn it out.

When Harrison and the guys finally stumble off the stage, he slings an arm around me like he’s King of the Karaoke, grinning. “So, what’d you think? Pretty good, huh?”

I scoff. “Prettygood? You lot were two drinks away from a full train wreck.”

He laughs, but the sound doesn’t do anything for me now. My body’s buzzing, restless, too damn needy, and I’m done with the noise. My hormones are running wild, and I’m in serious need of some relief. “Actually, I’m out. I’m ready to head home,” I mutter, hoping he doesn’t ask too many questions.

“Wait, already?” he asks, brow furrowed. “Why? You feeling sick?”

I nod, throwing him the excuse I know will work. “Yeah, just a bit off tonight.”

After a round of quick, painless goodbyes, no one even batted an eye when I said I wasn’t feeling well. Thank fuck for that. I tossed in some bullshit about needing rest and suggested heading back to Harrison’s, claiming we needed to start moving my stuff tomorrow, since it’s Friday. What I really need? To be alone. And with Dad snoring down the hall at my place, that’s not happening tonight. As soon as we step into Harrison’s, he pulls a bottle of water from the fridge and hands it to me. I down it like I’m parched, hoping it’ll cool the fire raging under my skin. Spoiler: it does jack shit.

“How you feeling?” He’s studying me intently, moving closer, his eyes narrowing. “Nothing happened at the bar, right? Did anyone bother you?” Oh, protective Harrison is something else.

“No, Harrison. Nothing happened.” I lower my voice, letting the words hang heavy. “I wasn’t actually feeling sick.” I can’t help the smirk that curls my lips as I slip off my shoes, fingers grazing the hem of my top.

“No.”

His gaze drops to my hands, then back to my face, his mouth opening slightly as he swallows hard. “S-so… what’s up? Something bother you?”

---