They Will Run You Down

Twenty-Two: NFWMB

As John, Robby and Edvin stood around the island drinking their morning coffee, Harley sat on the lawn out in the backyard, watching Rebel play with the red rubber ball he'd met the day before, and mindlessly spinning a number two pencil she'd found in a drawer in the kitchen.

Harley had been out there since before everyone got up. How long before, no one was sure.

"She okay?" Edvin questioned as he stood at the sink and peered out the window into the backyard, cup of coffee in hand.

John took a sip from his mug, "She's- She'll be fine," he assured.

"Does it have anything to do with why you slept on the couch?" Edvin prodded.

Avoiding Edvin's curious eyes, John nodded.

Robby reached over and patted John's shoulder, "You're a good guy, John"

Glancing quickly at Robby through narrowed eyes, John then dropped his gaze to the mug in his hand, "So I've heard"

Robby liked his house. Its tall ceilings and open floor plan, but the walls, they were a problem. Poorly constructed and paper thin, Robby truly hadn't meant to eavesdrop and planned wholeheartedly to move his bed against the far wall before the day was over.

Keeping true to his 'good guy' nature, John poured another cup of coffee from the percolator and made his way to the back door and out into the yard.

Harley sat in the grass, legs crossed, back slouched and her elbows resting on her knees.

She flinched in surprise when John approached from behind and announced, "Coffee"

She clutched her chest, "Jesus, mate. Put some bells on or something, would you?"

John extended the arm that held Harley's coffee, "Sorry"

She squinted her eyes from the sun as she looked up to the steaming mug and accepted.

"Can I sit?" John asked.

Harley put her cup down on the grass in front of her, gazing at the liquid inside and brushing her thumb along the mug's smooth edge, "It's not my grass," She shrugged.

John sighed as he took a seat on the lawn next to her.

It was uncomfortably quiet between them for what felt like an eternity. John went back and forth in his mind on what, if anything he should say to her.

"So . . Do you want to talk about what happened?" He finally managed to spit out.

Harley lifted her mug and took a lengthy, time consuming sip before she spoke, "I was drunk"

John had to stifle the chuckle that threatened to escape his throat, "No, you weren't"

"I could've been. How would you know?" Harley argued.

Smiling, John replied, "Because I know"

"Well maybe you were drunk then," Harley glanced up toward John.

He clucked his tongue and shook his head, "Uhh, nope"

"You sure?" Harley scrunched her nose.

John nodded, "Positive"

Harley betrayed herself by letting a smirk hook itself into the corner of her mouth before she dropped her head back down, continuing to stare into her mug.

The pair sat together quietly for a few minutes watching Rebel, who only wanted to play so long as he had a captive audience.

"I . ." Harley began as she clicked her nails on the ceramic mug in her hand, "I've never . . been . . with anyone else but him. Because of him. Somehow he always fucking wins"