"You owe me something."

Gabe jumped, spinning around to find Harley positioned behind him as he leaned against a bar stool with a neutral expression.

Glaring at him, Gabe said, "This better not become a regular thing."

"I told you," Harley said. "You've sparked my interest. That is a rare thing in itself."

"Oh, lucky me! Do I win a prize for apparently claiming the attention of what I'm beginning to understand is egotistical ignorance?"

"It is neither." Harley replied with disinterest, a slight frown forming on his face. "You're indebted to me."

Gabe threw back his shot once the bartender placed it in front of him, wiping his mouth and beginning to move away. "I'm off duty. Maybe next time."

A hand curled around his bicep, bringing Gabe to a stop. He stared viciously at the hand, dragging his gaze up to Harley's eyes. "Do not touch me."

"You owe me an answer." the drummer replied with malicious neutrality.

"You haven't even asked a question."

"Home state."

"What?" Gabe stared at him, trying to figure out his motive.

Harley narrowed his eyes impatiently. "What is your home state?"

"Why?"

Harley glared in warning. Roughly, Gabe pulled his arm out of his grip and spat out, "New Jersey."

A look came over Harley's face that he couldn't describe. "Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. That was fun. Let's never do this again." Gabe tilted his head to throw back the shot when suddenly the glass was taken from his hands and he watched as Harley tipped it out on the drink tray.

"Do you mind?" Gabe seethed.

"I think you've had enough for one night." Harley placed the shot glass back on the bar.

Fury shot through Gabe's veins. "What are you, my mother? That shot was twenty even!"

Harley sent him a bored look. "I know how much you get paid. The eighty you've spent tonight won't even put a dent in your earnings from today."

"What, you're monitoring me now?"

"Think of it as scientific curiosity."

"I think of it as stalking actually." Gabe glared. "Don't tell me what to do."

"You know," Harley said. "If you got rid of that frown for a moment, any man here would buy you a drink."

"I don't need anyone to buy my drinks for me."

"You have a distaste for chivalry?"

"It's not chivalry. It's the first step to being someone's morning regret."

"You don't seem to mind that."

Gabe's cutting glare did nothing to phase the rockstar's calm expression. "Only if I'm getting paid for it."

"Shame," Harley hummed, glancing behind Gabe. "You have many suitors tonight."

Turning around, Gabe saw the amount of men who'd been watching he and Harley's exchange, most staring at him with hungry looks. Whether they had seen his encounter with the blonde, their stubborn pursuit didn't fail to frustrate Gabe. The desire for more alcohol burned in his veins.

"If they're smart, they'll walk away." Gabe said darkly, turning back to the bar without a second thought.

"If they're smart." Harley echoed thoughtfully. "But not all dogs bark."

"And those who bite will get bitten themselves."

"Why aren't you joining your friends?" Harley asked suddenly, looking behind Gabe as Jordan sweet-talked a muscular brunette and Ryan flirted shamelessly with a good-looking white collar.

"That's a question," Gabe said, turning back to the other boy. "And you've already used yours."

"Then let's start a second round." Harley suggested easily. "Ask me and I'll return the favour."

"I don't care about your life."

"You don't seem to care about anything."

Scowling, Gabe scanned the crowded room with one glance and turned to face the drummer. "Just as many men are looking at you tonight as they are me, if not more. You don't show interest in return."

"Is that the question?"

"An observation."

Harley returned the answer easily, as though he's rehearsed the same speech countless times before. "Everybody loves the brand until they try the product."

"Is that you saying you can't fuck?" Gabe spoke bluntly, not giving a shit about the answer. "Strange. Your ego suggests otherwise."

"Do not confuse me with that of my band mates." Harley spoke darkly, surprising Gabe. "I am not as vain as you try to make me out to be."

"Maybe not," Gabe growled. "But you're still part of a band that hires on-the-road whores. Virtuousness does not strike me to be your most redeeming trait."

"And I suppose I need to redeem myself to you?"

"You cannot tell me that you are not the same as them."

"Careful," Harley warned, almost tauntingly. "That's starting to sound like more than a single question."

"Consider it an accusation."

"I have nothing to hide."

"Oh, don't you?

"Should I?"

"Everybody does."

"Everybody is not me."

"Your reputation deceives you."

"Perhaps I deceive my reputation," Harley was quick to keep up with Gabe's taunts. "After all, your reputation is crafted by everyone except yourself."

"Are they wrong?" Gabe retorted.

"Who?"

"Everyone. Are they wrong? That is my question."

Harley's face remained stony. "They would never suspect the truth."

Gabe downed his last shot, finally reaching his limit. "That's because you've made the truth a lie."

Harley said nothing more as Gabe turned and walked away.

***

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