The ride back to the hotel was quieter than it should have been.
Not the kind of quiet that felt peaceful or comfortable, but the kind that lingered too long, stretching between us with nowhere to go. The city lights blurred past the window in streaks of gold and white, reflecting faintly against the glass, but I barely noticed them.
My gaze stayed fixed ahead, my fingers loosely curled around the edge of the seat as I replayed the night over and over in my mind.
The theater. The after party. The way he spoke. The way he didn't.
Nothing had been said outright, and yet everything felt different.
Harley sat beside me, his posture relaxed, his attention somewhere else entirely. He hadn't said a word since we left, and for once, I didn't know how to break the silence.
I used to.
That was the part that bothered me the most.
Before, it had never felt like this much effort just to speak to him.
"You didn't have to stay," I said finally, my voice quieter than I intended.
Harley didn't look at me. "I know."
That was it.
The conversation ended as quickly as it started, slipping through my fingers before I could hold onto it. I pressed my lips together and turned my attention back to the window, the unease in my chest settling deeper.
Why does everything feel so off?
When we got back to the hotel, Harley stepped out first, holding the door open for me like he always did. Some things hadn't changed.
But they didn't feel the same anymore.
I muttered a soft thanks as I stepped out, adjusting my coat as the cool night air brushed against my skin. The walk inside was short and quiet, but the tension followed us all the way up to the suite.
As soon as the door closed behind us, the silence felt louder.
He set his keys down on the table and loosened his jacket slightly before walking further into the room. I stayed near the door for a moment, watching him, waiting for him to say something—anything—but he didn't.
"Harley," I said.
He paused and glanced at me. "Yeah?"
I hesitated before forcing the words out. "Can we talk?"
A brief pause followed, just long enough for the tension to settle in deeper.
"We already did."
The answer came easily.
Too easily.
My chest tightened. "No, we didn't."
He let out a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair before turning fully toward me. "There's nothing to talk about."
"That's not true."
My voice came out sharper than I expected, and for a second, even I was caught off guard by it. I took a step forward, closing some of the distance between us.
"You've been acting different all day," I said.
"I haven't."
"You have," I insisted. "You barely talk, you don't look at me, and every time I try to say something, you shut it down like it doesn't matter."
His expression didn't change.
That almost made it worse.
"I'm not shutting anything down," he said calmly.
"Then what do you call this?" I gestured between us, frustration slipping through. "Because it doesn't feel normal."
"It is normal."
I let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "No, it's not."
The silence that followed was heavier this time, pressing in on both of us.
Then he spoke.
"You said you couldn't."
The words were simple.
But they hit harder than anything else he had said all night.
I swallowed, my gaze dropping briefly before lifting again. "That doesn't mean you have to act like this."
"Like what?"
"Like you don't care."
His eyes met mine, steady and unmoving.
"I didn't say that."
"No, you didn't," I admitted, my voice softer now. "But it feels like it."
A pause stretched between us before he exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting slightly.
"I'm just giving you what you asked for."
There it was.
That line.
The one that made everything inside my chest tighten.
"That's not what I meant," I said quickly.
"Then what did you mean?"
The question came just as calm as everything else.
But this time, I didn't have an answer.
Because I didn't know how to explain it. I didn't know how to say that I didn't want him to pull away, or that I didn't like this version of us. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, the words slipping away before I could catch them.
"I don't know," I said finally, looking away.
The silence that followed felt different.
Not just heavy.
But final in a way I didn't like.
"I don't want things to stay like this," I added quietly, my fingers tightening at my sides.
Harley didn't respond right away. When I looked back at him, his expression had softened—but only slightly.
"And how do you want them to be?" he asked.
The question caught me off guard.
Because I knew the answer.
I just couldn't say it.
"I just…" I trailed off, frustration creeping in. "Not like this."
He studied me for a moment before looking away.
"That's not an answer."
"I know," I said softly.
And that was the problem.
The room fell quiet again, and this time, neither of us tried to break it.
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how tense everything felt, like we were both standing in the same place but moving in completely different directions.
I hated it.
I hated how far away he felt even when he was right in front of me.
"I don't want to stay here," I said suddenly.
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Harley glanced at me. "What?"
"I mean…" I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "I don't want to just sit here and pretend everything's fine when it's not."
He watched me for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked.
I blinked, caught off guard by the question.
"I don't know," I admitted. "Anywhere. Just… not here."
Another pause followed before he nodded once.
"Alright."
That was it.
No questions. No hesitation.
He grabbed his keys again and slipped his jacket back on, moving like the conversation hadn't changed anything.
But it had.
At least for me.
As we stepped out into the hallway, I felt it again—that shift, that quiet tension that hadn't gone away no matter how much I tried to ignore it.
We walked side by side toward the elevator without speaking, but this time it didn't feel like distance.
It felt like something building.
Something unstable.
Something waiting.
And for the first time, I had the unsettling feeling that whatever happened next… would change everything.