Page 11 of Biker Daddies

I click the button on the panel for the elevator to take us to the third floor. The doors slide open, and when the three of us stand inside we are shoulder to shoulder.

“This fucking thing must be made for short people,” I bitch at the tight fit.

“No, you’re just gigantic,” Colt says, standing in the corner.

I slam my finger on the button that says three and we begin to ascend.

“What are we going to do with her? She can’t travel on our bikes that drunk,” Alto points out just as the doors open to reveal her floor.

It smells like college kids live here. Weed and beer fill the air and I cough, not missing this scene at all.

A door opens and a guy looking half asleep stumbles out of his apartment, shirtless but at least he’s wearing pants. “Could you guys keep it down? You walk very loud.”

I place my hand against his chest and slam him against the wall. “No,” I snarl, shoving him back into his apartment and slamming the door. “Don’t come back out.”

“You’re so nice and good with people,” Colt comments, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Just so outgoing.”

I grunt in response, stomping my way down the hall until we get to the last door on the left.

Slipping the key into the door to unlock it, I find it already unlocked, and that only makes me angrier.

Does she not care about her safety? What the hell is she thinking?

When I enter her apartment, I step on an empty can and kick it to the side. Music is playing softly from the Bluetooth speaker sitting on the kitchen counter and I press a button to turn it off. Alto shuts the door behind us, flicking the lock in place.

I point to the living room.

Meredith is passed out on one couch while Addison is asleep on the floor with one of the decorative pillows under her cheek. The two of them are sleeping soundly.

We’ve been in this apartment more times than we could probably count. While she’s in class, we do a sweep to make sure nothing is out of order.

Prez’s orders.

I take a right, peeking into her bedroom only to hear someone in the bathroom. I gesture to the guys and push the bathroom door open, crossing my arms over my chest when I see her on the floor. I cock my head to the side as she stares up at me, glassy-eyed and flushed cheeks.

“Bane,” she slurs sweetly, and the cold part of my heart melts.

Fucking hell, I don’t need this.

She doesn’t like me. She doesn’t have a crush on me. I can’t become warm for her.

“You’re trashed, Harlow.” I squat down and push her red hair from her face.

I don’t notice if it’s soft. I really don’t.

“I’m…” She grabs the toilet seat and takes a breath, figuring out if she’s going to be sick or not. “I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Colt leans against the doorway and Alto pushes by him to take the spot in front of the sink.

Her eyes bounce from me, to Alto, then Colt. She doesn’t stop watching us, her big green eyes like pinballs.

She giggles, pushing from the toilet and slumping against the wall. “This must be a dream if I get to see all three. Of. You.” She punctuates each word by pointing a finger at each of us. “Just thought you’d at least be shirtless in my dreams. Unfair,” she exhales and Colt chuckles.

I want to laugh, I do, but she’s drunk and she clearly has no idea what she’s saying. I’d understand if she wants Alto and Colt, but me?

I’m too fucked-up for anyone.

“We’re here to make sure you’re okay, Harlow. Your message concerned us,” Alto says, staring at her with too much softness in his mismatched eyes.

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