Clad.
Harley is on a call.
"Becks, you know how my father is. Once he decides on something, he sticks to it. I should have never come here. I don't know what made me think things would be different this time."
"Argh, I'm such a fool."
Her chuckle is dry, humorless. "What? Pretend to marry and then flee to New York? That's a dumb idea that could work—only I'd be in big trouble afterward." She sighs, and the sound carries closer than I expect. Only then do I realize I've been walking toward her unconsciously, my body betraying me. Christ. Too late to hide now. She's seated on the grass, cross-legged, her back facing me, but as if sensing my presence, she twists her body. Our eyes lock before I can even attempt to find cover.
Way to get caught eavesdropping without shelter, Clad.
