Chapter Text
“Be a part of the Love Club,
Everything will glow for you,”
— The Love Club, Lorde
How did she get here? Paige couldn’t remember. But with Harry’s arm around her waist, one hand griping her thigh, his tongue down her throat, she did not care.
For pity’s sake, she’ll go back to the beginning.
“Spring Formal? Why the fuck would I want to do that?” Paige asked incredulously. “How did you even know about that?”
Tony shrugged modestly and muttered something about signing up for the school newsletter. “C’mon, you told me that you stayed in high school for the experiences remember? This is one of them.”
”This is a situation in which a hundred plus teenagers gather in one room, probably the gymnasium, which will grow disgustingly hot with that teenage-boy-stink.” Paige stated flatly. “Why would I want to be involved in that, exactly?”
“Okay, Little Miss Pessimist!” Tony snickered. “Calm down, it was only a suggestion. What will you do if someone asksyou to go, though?”
“Perish the thought,” Paige muttered, but the thought did not perish in the least, for that is exactly what happened to her the following day.
Paige woke at six, thanks to her extremely powerful drugs from the specialist Dr. Cornelius. They made her sleep, but she never felt anymore rested then she did when she only slept an hour, so Paige didn’t fuck with them all that much. She went through her usual morning routine, getting ready for school and wolfing down a box of waffles like a big back. She put her headphones on and put her Spotify playlist on shuffle, grabbed her skateboard, and was on her way to hell for the day.
Harry and Ned were standing by the gates when she arrived with MJ right behind her. They went to home room, and then their classes, and because it was a Thursday, they had AcaDec practice. Tony had texted her at lunch and told her to take the day off because he was taking Pepper to Cabo (she sent him a flower arrangement guide in return), so Ned proposed they go out to eat after practice.
Paige had nothing better to do, so they decided to hit up her old workplace establishment— aka the shadiest diner in Queens.
“Fair warning: the health code of this place is questionable at best.” Paige warned as they passed through the doorway, a little bell ringing with their arrival. There was the usual cashier behind the till, an old woman who lit up with a smile when she saw Paige.
“Hi Mira,” Paige greeted, leaning over the counter to press a kiss to the woman’s cheek. “Been busy tonight?”
“Hey baby,” Mira replied fondly. “It’s been dead tonight, probably cause it’s so fuckin’ windy.”
Ned flinched a little, surprised at her cursing, but Paige only laughed. “Yeah, tell me about it. My booth available?”
They piled into a booth with sticky red leather seats, and were soon seen too Rosa, in all her red-lipstick, box-dye glory. ”Bitch!” The pink-haired waitress screeched. “You didn’t tell me you were coming in tonight! I thought you were working?!”
“Nah, change of plans,” Paige responded warmly, scooting out of the sticky seats to stand and hug her friend., “We just finished AcaDec practice. God, this feels like a crossover episode.”
Ned snickered and MJ hit her lightly with a laminated menu. “Quick question,” MJ raised her hand, “what here won’t give us food poisoning?”
Rosa hummed consideringly. “I mean, I wouldn’t get anything with ham in it cause nobody knows where it comes from,” Paige spied a couple at a neighbouring table looking alarmed, “but Sasha’s working tonight so everything else’ll be fine.”
“Thanks Rosa,” Paige beamed, wrapping an arm around her waist and leaning her head against their waitress’ shoulder. “Tell Sasha I’ll come see him before I leave?”
“Yeah, course,” Rosa waved her hand dismissively, “anyway, what did you guys want?”
They ordered their food and Rosa promised it would be speedy, leaning down to press a red kiss to Paige’s cheek. “It’ll be fast as lightning babe. Call if any of you need anything.”
Paige grinned up at her. She loved her current job, but she missed working with her friends. “Will do,” she responded, “thanks Ro.” Rosa shot her a wink and left to go out their order in; with Sasha on the clock, at least the food would be edible.
She still couldn’t believe he owned half the place.
“I can’t believe you used to wear that uniform,” MJ murmured, looking around the place, “or like, even work here.”
“I can’t believe a place with two stars on Google still has customers,” Ned marvelled, showing them the page on his phone. “That’s genuinely shocking.”
“Yeah, this place is a dive,” Paige agreed readily, “but she has a charm to her, otherwise I wouldn’t come back so often.”
”You come here?” The incredulity in MJ’s voice was palpable. “For fun? Here?”
Paige snickered and burrowed herself into her coat, lips curving upwards. “I get to see my friends, and when customers are assholes I can get involved because I’m no longer an employee.”
Curious, Ned asked, “how do you get involved?”
“I mostly tell them to shut the fuck up,” Paige admitted shamelessly, “one time I fought a lady outside in the alleyway. Rosa recorded it.”
The four of them burst into rambunctious laughter, Ned leaning on MJ as he wheezed, pleading with Paige to see the video.
Their food came fifteen minutes later, carried by the illustrious Viktoria. “This is Vik,” Paige introduced, leaning up to kiss her cheek, “she’s in the grade above us at school.”
”So nice to meet you all,” Vik said cheerfully, “Paige’s mentioned you all. Is it… MJ, Ned and… Harry?”
Oh that bitch, Paige thought, pained. Why did she have to use that tone when she said Harry’s name?
Still, Paige put on her brave face on (her normal expression with a smile) and nodded casually. “Yup, A plus. Is that my milkshake, V?”
Vik smothered her amused smile and placed it down in front of her. “Sure is, sweetpea. Call if you need anything, but it was nice to meet you all.”
The FaceTime call when they were all at home was going to be bombastic, and Paige was going to be the ignitor of it all.
For now though, Paige let herself enjoy the company around her. The four of them filled up on burgers, fries and waffles, washing it down with delicious milkshakes that MJ sung praises about. They chatted about AcaDec, Nationals, their upcoming history assignment, and the latest pop culture news.
Eventually, when it got late, Paige disappeared for fifteen minutes to say goodbye to her coworkers, and then they headed out. They’d tried to pay the bill, but Mira the cashier told Paige to stop playing, so she simply hauled her friends out of there. “If she says we’re not paying, we’re not. I do not fight with my weed dealer, guys.”
”You’re weed dealer is an eighty year old woman?” Ned asked incredulously.
Harry drove MJ home first and then dropped Ned next; Paige didn’t even realise she’d be alone in an enclosed space with him until Ned closed the door, his muffled, “thank you!”, echoing in the space. Suddenly, Paige grew a little nervous, and cast a glance over at the driver of the vehicle. Harry was already looking at her. “Ready to go home, P?”
Paige cleared her throat. “Yeah, yeah. I have to check over my some of my homework.” She actually didn’t; she’d finished everything already but felt compelled to give Harry a proper response.
This was why she hated this dude. He made her emotions twisted; one moment she wanted to be toxic as fuck, the next she was blushing and swooning. It was humiliating and Harry Osborn could never know the power he held over her.
As they pulled away from the curb, Paige busied herself with queuing songs on Spotify. Harry’s rich boy fancy car had a blue tooth stereo that automatically connected to her phone, which was kind of embarrassing. They drove in a silence that grew comfortable. Her fear was slowly but surely abating over time; never necessarily disappearing, but it was easier to manage. Good drivers made her breathe easier, and Harry was as steady as they came. He also knew all about her bag of issues, and though he never said it, Paige knew he drove more carefully when she was in the car.
They listened to Blonde by Frank Ocean on the fifteen minute drive to her and Rachael’s apartment. It was their favourite album to listen to together, for it delievered banger after banger. Eventually, though, all good things come to an end; Harry pulled to the curb outside of her building, and turned to her. “Can I ask you a question?”
”Yeah, course,” Paige responded as she leaned over to the backseat to retrieve her skateboard. “What’s up?”
”Will you go to the Spring Formal with me?”
Paige froze, skateboard halfway between the front and back seats. “What?”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want too,” Harry assured quickly, “I just—“
“No, shut the fuck up, I will.” Paige righted herself in the seat, skateboard balanced over her lap. “I’ll go with you.” The atmosphere in the car grew immensely soft in that moment, with the warmth of the heaters and Frank Ocean’s melodious voice filtering through the speakers gently. Harry leaned forwards, head reached out, and tucked an errand curl behind her ear. “That’s good,” he breathed, “because I didn’t have a plan if you said no.”
Paige tried to smother her smile. “Bit presumptive, Osborn?”
”Confident,” he corrected jokingly, “and it worked didn’t it?”
“Hm,” Paige hummed, “I suppose it did.” Then, with a sudden burst of bravery, the likes in which she only got with the mask on, Paige leaned over and swiftly pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
”You’re a fucking hazard!” Harry called after her, and Paige could only laugh in response.
Harry Osborn had a problem.
His problem was approximately 5’6, with a head full of dark hair and a mind sharper than a razor blade. Paige Parker was his problem.
The thing was, Harry had been nursing a crush on Paige for the better part of five years.
They’d met in the seventh grade during their first general science class, partnered together by virtue of alphabetical ordering. Harry remembered the girl who hesitantly sat down next to him, shy and hesitant to make conversation. Uncharacteristically, he’d introduced himself first with a simple, “I’m Harry.” His partner had nodded replied shortly, “Paige.”
It had taken weeks for them to actually become friends, but Harry was glad he hadn’t given up. Paige Parker was a friend unlike any he’d ever had before, although in truth he hadn’t had a great deal. His father, with his wealth and influence, always tried to push him into certain friendships; Paige was the first friend he’d made on his own.
Of course it helped that they shared many interests, including the sciences and reading and so on and so forth. Conversation with Paige always flowed so easily, in a way that had never happened for Harry before. That was probably where his admiration started, although he couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his admiration bloomed into a full on crush.
Norman Osborn probably hated his son. Harry had been fucking distraught when he’d been sent away, his father’s shitty excuses ringing hollowly in his ears on the flight over to France. All he could really think about was Paige, who had no idea where he was, who probably viewed him as another person who disappeared from her life without a word. Harry had become the type of person he swore he never would be to her, an a liar beyond that.
For the whole of freshman year, Harry had zero way of contacting Paige. When he was finally given his phone back, the first thing he did was scramble to check his messages, and god should’ve struck him dead for how many messages of Paige’s that didn’t have a response.
Dozens of are you okay??? and please call me back i’m getting worried flooded the screen, until the final message, which was a simple, hope ur okay.
Harry had planned for a whole twelve months, that when he got his phone back, he would call her immediately and explain himself. That last message stopped him. Paige was a casual texter, he’d come to know. She typed in all lowercases and used the loosest of punctuation. That period at the end of the sentence felt final, like the last nail in a coffin, like she never wanted to hear from him again. And who would?
For the next two years, Harry watched Paige through her social media accounts like a fucking creep, too afraid to just text. There were pictures of sunrises and sunsets, various views of New York, and occasionally, a coveted picture of Paige herself. It was horribly wrong of him, but Harry had developed a terrible habit of screenshotting social media posts with her face in them, if only so he had something to remember her by. That’s what he told himself anyway.
Harry had tried to forget Paige. He’d tried to move on. There was a time he'd (loosely) dated his way through half the girls he'd gone to school with. His friends, who hadn’t really been friends in reflection, always mocked that he had a type: mouthy brunettes. There was only one mouthy brunette Harry Osborn could safely say he adored, and that was Paige Parker.
The night of her sixteenth birthday, Harry had been drunk off his ass, the liquor in his system emboldening him. That annual reminder had gone off, ‘paige’s b-day!!’, and Harry had thought, fuck it. It was just a happy birthday text. Harry hadn’t been expecting a response.
thanks harry <3, she’d responded so quickly and casually, like they hadn’t lost contact for three years. And what did the heart mean? Harry had agonised over that heart for months, unashamedly.
When his bitch ass father informed him he’d be returning to America, his first thought was, fucking finally. His second was that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to reconnect with Paige. Harry wasn’t really sure how he was going to go about doing that, but he was sure he’d find a way.
Somebody, whatever higher power existed, must’ve been smiling down at him, because Norman told him he’d been enrolled in Midtown School of Science and Technology. Oppurtunity had fallen straight into his lap, and Harry would’ve been a fool not to grasp at it with both hands.
Harry had thought up what he was going to say, how he was going to act, what he was going to do, agonising over every future interaction with Paige, and then the day came, and he laid eyes on her, and any thoughts still left in his head flew out of it at an alarming pace. Harry had witnessed every fashion era, every haircut, every change of makeup style, and yet nothing could’ve prepared him to see Paige Parker in person for the first time in years.
Harry Osborn hadn’t gained his admiration of her through her face, although she’d never quite lacked for beauty. Harry’s crush began through his admiration of her intelligence, of her intellect, of her personality, of a thousand things before the way she looked— but Paige was beautiful. Achingly so, even.
Honestly, Paige was so good-looking she made him feel ugly, and Harry was by no means unattractive.
Harry wasn’t quite sure what to expect from her. He didn’t think Paige knew what to expect from him. She was hot and cold, like she was unsure, until she finally evened out after a couple of weeks. Harry integrated himself well with her friends, MJ and Ned. In fact, he really did like them both; MJ had a deadly sense of humour and Ned a vivaciousness that could make anyone smile. Harry enjoyed hanging out with them in school and out, and he was privately glad because Paige usually tagged along if they were both present, affording him more time in her presence.
After the first few days of hanging around Paige and her group, Harry was certain an opportunity would come for him to explain himself. There was no point forcing it, because then Paige probably wouldn’t care or think him genuine, and his patience paid off. When Harry did finally get around to explaining his situation, it was because Paige had asked, and was actively curious as to why things had happened as they had. Harry gave his point of view, the tense air cleared between them, and they were friends again.
Sort of.
It would be dumb to act as though the air around them wasn’t charged still, but Harry was pretty sure it wasn’t with anger the way it had been previously. It was something different, something exciting, like an undercurrent of electricity had flowed between every interaction that had, big or small.
Paige wasn’t ignorant of it, Harry was sure, but she never made a definitive move. It forced him to do so.
They went to a charity gala together in Manhattan. Paige draped herself in black silk satin and looked as beautiful as a thousand sunrises and sunsets, her hair set in shining, glamorous waves like a starlet out of Old Hollywood. They’d gorged themselves on hors d'oeuvres and chattered away to each other in a corner, completely ignoring everyone else at the event— until Tony Stark came over, of course.
Harry wasn’t really sure what to make of that relationship. He had no doubt that Paige was intelligent enough to become Stark’s personal intern, but he was sure they were close to each other in a platonic way too. Paige didn’t really like adults, but Harry could tell that she cared for Stark’s opinion, which spoke volumes.
They ended their evening eating dollar pizza slices and smoking cigarettes together. It was one of his fondest memories.
After that night, things began to change between them. Neither voiced it. It was like if they said anything, it would shatter and break, but Harry began to wonder whether it would matter if what they had was broken, so long as it was theirs.
Everytime he dropped her off at home, taking extra care because he knew her trauma surrounding vehicles, Paige would lean over and kiss his cheek before she got out. Harry always dropped her off last, just to be able to spend more time in her presence, just so he might be able to feel her soft lips against his cheek.
In retrospect, Harry was kind of pathetic. It was Paige though, so it was perfectly acceptable.
The announcement of a Spring Formal got the students in a tizzy. There had been a mad rush of securing tickets and dates and well, call him presumptuous (or maybe just financially irresponsible), but Harry brought two tickets because he was going to ask Paige to go with him.
Harry tried to imagine what she might say to his question, but her, “No, shut the fuck up, I will,” kind of knocked expectations out of the water.
Paige Parker did very funny things to him. She emboldened him, made him shy, made him comfortable to simply be. It was maddening and beautiful at once. Harry tucked one errant curl behind her ear, charmed by her response, and told her he hadn’t had a plan for if she denied him.
“Bit presumptive, Osborn?” Paige ribbed, the hints of a smile curling at her lips.
”Confident,” Harry corrected, only half-joking, “and it worked didn’t it?”
“Hm,” Paige hummed, “I suppose it did.” Then, with she leaned over and swiftly pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek, her petal-soft lips brushing against his skin like supplication. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Harry forced himself not to look at the curve of her waist as she got out of the car. “You’re a fucking hazard!” He felt the need to inform her, a stupid grin on his face.
In reply, Paige only laughed, bell-like and ringing through the night.
“I’m going to that stupid Spring Formal.”
Tony nearly dropped his wrench in shock. He didn’t though, because he was suaver than that. And also because Paige would absolutely shut down the conversation if he did. “I thought you said it would be stupid?”
”I did,” his intern confirmed with an absentminded nod, focus mostly on the chemical equations in front of her. “But somebody asked me. So now I’m going.”
Dread settled over his shoulders, thick and poignant. “Is it the boy you were at that gala with? Norman’s son?”
“Yup,” Paige snickered, “and I love the hatred you used when saying his name. I’m going to start doing the same thing.”
Tony laughed before he could stop himself. “So, not a fan, I take it?”
Paige sniffed haughtily. “Fuck no, Norman’s a bitch.”
“And yet you’re going to a dance with his son, kid? Make that make sense.”
“Puh-lease,” Paige scoffed, “you’re the one who encouraged me to go, remember? And Harry isn’t his trick-ass father, thank god, so we’re good.”
Why was his kid so mouthy? Who did she get this from?
Be supportive, Tony told himself sternly. That’s what he always wished his father was with him, even though his kid wasn’t even his kid (but was, though). “I’m sure you’ll have a great time,” he said optimistically, “make sure to take lots of photos.”
“Promise,” Paige responded, grinning. “I’m sure Rachael will take 287 photos on her camera from like, 2008, so they’ll be no shortage.”
God, they grew up so fast.
“Christ,” Paige fanned herself impatiently, “are you done? Can we leave yet?”
“Just one more!” Rachael begged, much to her foster-child’s consternation. “Put a smile on your face, you’re going to a dance. You look emo.”
Harry laughed for all of two seconds before her glare had the sound dying in his throat. He hastily cleared said throat and agreed to one more picture.
When they finally managed to escape Rachael’s clutches five minutes later, Harry offered his arm out to Paige, who looped her own through swiftly and tugged him out the door. “Bye!” She yelled hurriedly, slamming the door shut before they could hear Rachael’s no-doubt teasing response. Out of the danger zone, Harry allowed the amused smile to shine through his face as they made their way downstairs. "God, every time I think she's grown on me, she does shit like this."
"Rachael seems nice," Harry offered, holding the front door open. Paige swept past him in her dark red dress, somehow managing a perfect stride even with the platforms strapped to her feet. It was impressive. "Better than the last ones, I think. What were their names again?" He only vaguely remembered her former foster parents- the father had been a business man, of some kind?
"Nina and James," Paige responded, grinning as he held the car door open for her. "Thank you, Harry."
The student council had meticulously planned every factor of the Spring Formal and it had paid off. Despite the venue being their gymnasium, the floors had been freshly shined, the walls adorned with pastel streamers and twinkling strings of fairy lights. Betty Brant had spent like seven hours putting together a balloon last night, as evident by her frantic snapchat stories, but it had turned out beautiful.
"Wow," Paige murmured, reluctantly impressed. "This looks better than I thought it was going to." Harry handed her a glass of punch, and she took a sip. "This is spiked." Harry tasted it quickly, then shrugged. "I'll get some more before anyone notices."
MJ and Ned met them soon enough. MJ looked hot as fuck, which wasn't unusual by any means, and Paige made sure to tell her. None of them were quite certain what you were actually supposed to do at a Spring Formal, so they ended up at a table, drinking vodka-spiked punch and talking shit. Basically, nothing out of the ordinary.
A big part of her wished she could still get drunk, so she could join her friends in their revelry. The people around them were getting progressively drunker, giggling into their cups as they tried to conceal their inebriation. Some, Paige noted with amusement, were better than others. Harry's cheeks were practically aglow, skin reddened from alcohol and laughter. Ned feared little better, the pair of them discussing something nerdy. MJ had switched to the punch that wasn't spiked, and was currently locked in some sort of debate with Abe from their AcaDec team. Paige was happy to lean back into her chair, stone-cold sober, and watch the revelry unfold around her.
"How are you not buzzed?" Harry murmured right in her ear, his arm slung across the back of her chair. "You've had as many cups of that as Ned."
Paige cast a glance at their friend, and found him tearing up the dance floor to This Is What You Came For, his tie lost somewhere in the thumping crowd. "Well," she said over the music, "I am simply built different."
Harry laughed, long and loud. He smelled so fucking good, like some sort of expensive perfume. "You wanna dance?"
"Yeah!" Paige shouted after a moment of deliberation. Harry pulled her up as Low by Flo Rida began to blare through the speakers, his movements somewhat clumsy from the vodka-punch coursing through his bloodstream. "Careful," Paige warned drily, her words swept away by the current of bodies and music that led to the open floor.
They danced to a litany of upbeat songs of all variety, most of Paige's friends getting increasingly tipsier as the night passed. Harry nursed his drinks, she noticed idly as she downed her own like shots of vodka. Paige would worry, but she was pretty sure Mr Harrington was passed out on one of the bleachers next to a couple that was making out, so she figured it was safe. Somewhere in the chaos, Viktoria found her. They took photos and then danced together, and then Paige watched as Vik, mindblowingly drunk, slapped her boyfriend and declared he was a dog. Five minutes later, they were making out next to Harrington's prone body.
"P!" Vik shouted at ten-thirty, grasping her arm. "Will-" Vik's maybe-cheater boyfriend "- is throwing an afterparty. I'll send you the address, okay? His brother just stocked the place so we're gonna get fucked up."
"Okay!" Paige nodded, glancing at Harry, who'd unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, his tie long gone. "I'll see if Harry wants to come."
"Just text me," Vik instructed seriously, "if I don't see you later, I love you!" She pressed a kiss to Paige's cheek, and then bounded off to grab her possible-cheater boyfriend.
Paige weaved through the crowd and returned to Harry's side. "Hey," she greeted him and the surrounding people, "there's an afterparty at my friend Viktoria's boyfriend's house if anyone wants to go." A hand slipped into her own. Paige looked up at her date, finding him bright-eyed and sweetly smiling. "Fuck yeah," Harry agreed, "Let's go."
"Drink some water first," Paige instructed sternly, not willing to get in the car with a tipsy driver. She had enough car-problems as is; Paige certainly wasn't going to give herself more. Harry hadn't downed cups of the vodka-punch like Ned or Flash, but he'd had a few and she was cautious.
As Harry chugged some water, she helped Ned into his mom's car (he was wasted, and failing badly to conceal it), made sure MJ was tucked in safely with Abe and Betty, and then went to retrieve her wayward date, who was helping their biology teacher to move Mr Harrington. Paige muffled her laughter as Mr Harrington was moved to the staff room, dead to the world, and Mr Campbell thanked him gratefully. "I didn't know how I was going to get Roger here safely by myself," he mentioned with a roll of his eyes. "You two have a wonderful evening."
"Thank you, Sir," Harry replied, slipping his hand through Paige's own. "You too."
They made their way out to the parking lot, where a few groups of people remained, mostly just socialising or finding after parties to attend. The pair of them bypassed their tipsy peers and slipped into Harry's Porsche as quickly as they could, Paige eagerly snatching the half-empty pack of cigarettes she knew would be in the centre console. "Can I have one of these?" She questioned, holding one up by her fingers.
"Sure," Harry agreed, amused. "Give me a puff, won't you?"
It was a shame to be smoking in Harry's really nice car, but she wasn't able to get drunk or high so instead, Paige was in the mood to smoke cigarettes. As Harry pulled out of the parking lot, she lit the tip, glowing red-hot in the relative darkness, and brought the other end to her lips, inhaling the smoke deeply into her lungs and blowing it out after a few burning moments. "Mhm," Paige mumbled, "that shit is fire."
At his request, she lifted the cigarette to Harry's mouth, and watched as he inhaled, eyes tracing the sharpness of his jaw. Had Harry been hitting the gym lately, or was she just ovulating? "Thanks, baby," he murmured after he'd exhaled, voice husky. Paige stared at him for a moment, lips parted just the slightest, his words causing a zing to travel up her spine. To conceal how affected she'd become by him, Paige brought the cigarette to her lips again, and turned to put the address into the GPS system.
"It's like 20 minutes away," she informed him, flicking ash out of her open window. "You down?"
”Sure,” Harry shrugged, eyes not leaving the road as he reached one hand over to circle her wrist and bring the cigarette to his mouth. Paige watched his jaw flex just the slightest, and had to withhold a shudder. “I’ve got nothing else on tonight. You?”
”Rachael is always begging me to be a ‘normal teenager’. I think she’ll be pleased for me.” He let go of her wrist gently, and she pulled it back. “Why not? Besides, I have to find out what’s going on with Vik and her dumb boyfriend.”
“Dumb boyfriend?” Harry echoed. “What happened?”
Paige took several drags of the cigarette, blowing the smoke out between each one, then flicked the butt out the window. Littering was bad, but she was also short of an ashtray. “She slapped the shit out of him earlier and accused him of cheating. Five minutes later, they were making out. I’m not really sure what happened, to be honest.”
Harry glanced at her for a brief moment, amusement shining in his hazel eyes. “They have relationship troubles?”
”Like you wouldn’t believe!” Paige complained, crossing her arms. “I love Vik. She’s too good for that motherfucker.”
”Does Viktoria have the same high expectations of herself that you do?” Harry asked idly, stopping at a red light.
“She does not.” Paige responded miserably. “Which is a goddamn shame.”The light turned green, and they continued on forwards. Paige put her playlist on shuffle, and clicked her tongue in irritation. “He’s just a prick, is all. He never treats her the way she deserves, and she always goes back.”
Harry reached a hand over, and Paige presumed he was reaching for another cigarette. Instead, he settled his palm over her thigh, heat radiating through the thin silk of her dress. “You’re a good friend to her, honestly, but sometimes you just have to let her learn the lesson for herself, sweetheart.”
Her voice went high, her breathing shallow. Fuck it all. “Harry,” she said, “pull this car over right now.”
He did. Paige unclipped her seatbelt, and climbed right into his lap, curls falling out of her updo and around her face. Harry’s eyes gleamed, his arm winding itself around her waist, his hand sliding up her bare thigh between the slit in her skirt. You,” she breathed, “are a fucking tease.” Then, she leaned down, and kissed him.
They never did make it to that after party.