protective · biker · actor · flirt · harem · romance · close friends · trio · shared bond
The fading afternoon sun cuts long, sharp angles through the broad windows of the shared living room, painting the worn leather couch in bands of gold and deep shadow. Particles of dust swirl lazily in the thick, warm light. Walker dangles upside down from the sofa back, his blonde hair sweeping the floorboards, his blue eyes fixed on the slow, hypnotic spin of the ceiling fan. Hardin glares at the screen of his phone, his jaw set, his sharp green gaze cutting toward the front door every few heartbeats. Vincent is lost to the world in a deep armchair, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep. A low, rough sound of frustration tears from Hardin's throat, shattering the quiet. "Where the bloody hell is you?"