"Oh, you little bitch," Harley hissed into her phone as she bounded down the steps, skipping every other one until her fluffy socks hit the wooden floor with a thud. She held the phone tighter against her ear. "Cole, you can't do this to me!" 

"I'll be there around second period, Harlz... relax," Cole's voice came through, lazy and unbothered. "You'll survive."

"But you're awake now," Harley shot back, swinging into the kitchen. She gave her mother, Brianna, a bright grin that barely masked her irritation. "Seriously, dude, chuck on some clothes and come to maths. I can't survive on my own."

"Yeah... I'm going back to bed," Cole muttered, followed by a muffled yawn before the line went dead.

Harley gasped theatrically, throwing her head back with a groan as she shoved her phone into her back pocket. "Traitor."

"Good morning to you, too," Briana chuckled cheerfully from the counter, dusting flour off her apron. The smell of cinnamon clung to the warm air. She was already elbow-deep in pastry dough, a streak of flour across her cheek. "Is Cole ditching again?"

"He's abandoning me in my time of need," Harley mumbled, tugging the fridge open and grabbing a juice box. She punctured the straw with unnecessary force.

Before Brianna could respond, her eldest daughter, Holly, breezed in, hair already curled, phone in hand, laughing at something her boyfriend Jacob had texted. She barely spared her younger sister a glance before leaning against the counter.

"You're dramatic, Harley-Jean," Holly said, smirking as she scrolled. "Cole doesn't need to babysit you through algebra. You'll live." 

"Says the girl who hasn't touched a math problem since she started paying nerds to do it for her." Harley shot back, narrowing her eyes.

Holly's eyes flickered up from her phone, tilting her head to the side with narrowed eyes. "Jealousy doesn't look cute on you." 

"Neither does Jacob's hoodie you've been wearing three days straight," Harley muttered under her breath, earning a sharp glare from her sister.

"Girls," Brianna interrupted with the practised patience of a single mom used to this rhythm, sliding a tray of rising dough aside. "Don't start. It's too early for a civil war."

Harley sucked at her juice box as she dropped onto a stool at the counter with a sigh. "I'm not dramatic. I'm abandoned."

Brianna laughed lightly, setting a warm hand on Harley's shoulder. "Sweetheart, you've got me. That's better than Cole, right?"

Harley gave her mom a side-eye. "You don't sit through maths with me, Mom."

"Maths won't kill you," Brianna said, smiling like the sun.

"That's debatable," Harley muttered, sinking lower on the stool as Holly rolled her eyes, thumbs flying across her screen.

"Okay, Grace, leave me and my watercolours alone," Harley said firmly, planting herself in front of her easel like a guard dog. The canvas was streaked with hesitant lines of watery paint sliding downward, mocking her every indecisive brushstroke.

Grace rolled her eyes, spinning back toward her own project with exaggerated flair. "You're the only senior in our art class, Harlz. You should expand your creativity—make us juniors look bad. Real bad."

Harley narrowed her eyes at the slow drip sliding down her canvas. "I don't need that kind of power," she muttered, chewing the inside of her cheek.

A sudden smack landed on the back of her head. She yelped, spinning around, glare instantly locking on Cole, who strolled past like nothing had happened.

"Sorry," he said over his shoulder, smirk firmly in place. "Didn't realise you'd gone full boring artsy mode."

"You should be in maths," Harley shot back. "Instead, you're here—still boring as ever."

Cole chuckled, leaning casually against the table beside Grace, exuding his usual too-cool-to-care confidence. Grace perked up instantly at his presence, but Harley just rolled her eyes and turned to the door, where Jackie had just walked in wearing her baseball cap low over her forehead.

"Hey, Jackie," Harley greeted with a small smile, tone softening.

"Hi, Harley," Jackie replied, her smile shy but warm as she tied on her apron.

Cole's gaze flicked toward her. "So, I'll see you after school, New York?" he asked casually, voice dipping into that smooth register he always used when he wanted attention.

Jackie ducked her head, pretending to focus on her brushes, offering no response. Cole didn't push it. Instead, he gave Grace and Kiley a quick nod. "Ladies," he said easily, before making his way back to Harley.

"So," Harley said as he approached, raising a brow. "What's the deal? Trying to sleep with your housemate now?"

Cole rolled his eyes but didn't lose the smirk. "Just being friendly."

"Yeah, right," Harley snorted. "How's Olivia, by the way?"

He shrugged like it was nothing. "Alright."

Harley muttered under her breath, "God, you're disgusting."

Cole only winked before sauntering to the door. "See you at dinner," he called, voice laced with teasing nonchalance.

The moment he left, Grace clapped her hands together like a seal. "Oh my god!"

"What?" Jackie asked, tugging her apron strings tighter.

"Jackie, the god of all guys, was flirting with you," Grace gushed, eyes wide.

Harley scrunched her nose in exaggerated disgust. "Ew, don't talk about Cole like that."

Grace grinned wickedly. "I don't know how you're best friends with him. I'd get with him in a heartbeat."

Harley shrugged, casually. "We have."

The entire table froze, eyes wide.

"Wait—what?" Jackie whispered, voice barely audible.

"You slept with Cole?" Grace's tone was a cocktail of shock and fascination.

"Relax," Harley said, flicking her wrist dismissively. "We were both drunk. It didn't mean anything."

Grace gasped like Harley had confessed to murder. "Oh my god. You cannot ignore it, though. That's the Cole effect. Even you fell for it—and you're his best friend!"

"Which makes me want to barf," Harley muttered, turning back to her canvas. "Again—drunk. Doesn't count."

But her words didn't erase the silence that hung for a beat too long. Jackie's gaze drifted across the room to where Cole was now chatting effortlessly with Olivia, his grin easy, his body language relaxed. Jackie's cheeks warmed, and she quickly dropped her eyes back to her paints.

"Honestly," Jackie said, trying to sound offhand, "Cole's just... a guy. He's not that special."

Harley caught the faint blush creeping up Jackie's neck. Her stomach knotted—protectiveness sparking under her ribs. Jackie was sweet. Too sweet for Cole's games.

Kiley smirked knowingly. "If he's not special, then why can't you keep your eyes off him, Jackie?"

"I can," Jackie said quickly, voice sharper than before. She forced her gaze to her canvas, the bristles of her brush trembling slightly in her grip.

Grace scoffed. "Mhm. Sure. That's the Cole effect."

Jackie's blush deepened as she busied herself with her paints. "It's not like that," she murmured, almost to herself. "I don't have a crush on him."

The three girls exchanged a glance that was half amusement, half pity. Grace leaned in conspiratorially. "It's okay. Don't be embarrassed. We've all had a Cole Walter crush."

"Not all of us," Kiley said flatly, though her lips twitched.

Harley raised her hand in mock solemnity. "Again, for the record, he's my best friend and nothing more."

Jackie let out a small laugh, but her nervous eyes betrayed her. "I don't have a crush. I mean—sure, he's... cute, but I hardly know him."

"Yeah, so did the five other girls he's hooked up with," Harley said, sharper than she meant to, eyes flicking toward Cole across the room. The words hung between them, heavy with honesty.

Jackie's brush hovered uncertainly above her palette, cheeks still red.

Harley sighed, her own brush finally dragging a streak of blue down the canvas. She didn't want Jackie to get hurt. But she also couldn't control Cole—or the way people inevitably fell into his orbit.

That was the problem with Cole Walter. He was a mess, but he was magnetic. And Harley knew better than anyone how dangerous that combination could be.

The bell rang, and Harley shoved her books into her bag without much care, eager to leave the day behind. By the time she reached her mom's bakery, the golden light of late afternoon spilled through the windows, catching the floating dust and making the space glow. The familiar smell of sugar and cinnamon hugged her the moment she pushed open the door.

Brianna was behind the counter, hair pulled back in a messy bun, apron dusted in flour. Her face lit up when she saw Harley.

"Hey, sweetheart," Brianna said warmly, sliding a tray of cupcakes onto the display. "How was school?"

Harley dropped her bag by the wall and perched on a stool. "The usual. Boring. Cole ditched first period, came back like nothing happened, and then spent the rest of the day annoying me."

Brianna smirked knowingly. "That boy lives at his own speed. Honestly, I don't know how you two haven't strangled each other by now."

Harley pulled at a loose thread on her sleeve. "He's... Cole. I don't know. Sometimes I think I'd go insane without him, and other times I kind of want to bury him alive."

Brianna chuckled, wiping her hands on her apron before reaching for the cash register. Her smile faltered slightly as she counted the bills inside. "At least he's steady. Steadier than your father these days."

The mention of him made Harley stiffen. She hadn't seen her dad in months, not since he'd packed up his things and left. "Yeah, well... Dad's probably too busy pretending we don't exist."

"Harley," Brianna said softly, not unkindly. "It's not that simple."

"Feels pretty simple from here," Harley muttered, twisting her straw in the half-empty soda cup she'd grabbed from the counter.

Brianna didn't argue. She just exhaled slowly, eyes still on the register. "We'll be okay," she said after a beat, though her voice lacked its usual brightness. "The bakery's covering the bills... mostly. But if I take a few more catering orders, we'll have some breathing room."

Harley frowned. "Mom, you've been working every day since the divorce. You barely sleep."

Brianna smiled gently, reaching across the counter to squeeze her daughter's hand. "That's what we do, Harlz. We keep going. And besides, having you and Holly is enough to make it worth it."

Harley swallowed the lump in her throat. Sometimes her mom's optimism felt like sunlight, and other times it felt like too much. "I just... I hate that he left you with all this."

Brianna's expression softened, but she changed the subject quickly, as she always did when the conversation veered too close to bitterness. "So, dinner at the Walters tonight?"

"Yeah," Harley said, sliding off the stool and grabbing her bag. "Cole's mom insisted. Probably figured I'd starve if I relied on you."

Brianna laughed, though her eyes followed Harley with quiet worry. "Tell them I said hi. And don't let Cole convince you to stay out too late. You've got school tomorrow."

Harley leaned over the counter and kissed her mom's flour-dusted cheek. "Love you."

"Love you more," Brianna said, smiling again, though it didn't quite reach her tired eyes.

As Harley pushed out of the bakery and into the cool evening air, her chest tightened. Cole's house would be loud and warm and full of food. But leaving her mom standing alone in the bakery felt heavier than usual tonight.

"Hello, fam—uh..." Harley's cheerful voice cracked the silence as she stepped into the Walters' kitchen, only for her grin to die when she registered the atmosphere. The air felt dense, pressed down by glares and unspoken words.

"Who pissed in your cereal?" she asked dryly, dropping into her usual chair. Her eyes darted from face to face, searching for clues.

Before anyone could answer, the sound of footsteps filled the doorway. Cole and Jackie walked in, side by side. The tension, already thick, tightened like a knot. Every head swivelled toward Jackie, and Harley suddenly felt like she was sitting in the middle of an interrogation.

"Is there anything left to eat?" Cole asked easily, completely unbothered. He slid into the chair beside Harley, throwing his arm across the back of her seat like it was just another Tuesday. "I'm starving."

"Hey," George's voice cut through the room, sharp enough to draw blood. "You know you're supposed to call if you're running late, right? That's the whole reason you have a phone."

Cole didn't flinch, but Harley noticed the flicker of irritation in his jaw.

"Where have you two been?" Katherine pressed, suspicion dripping from every word.

Cole shrugged like it was nothing. "We went to the watering hole. Lost track of time." He reached for a bread roll without meeting his dad's eyes.

Harley blinked, frowning. The watering hole? With Jackie? She glanced at her friend, but Jackie's uneasy expression told her there was more under the surface.

"Listen, I—" Jackie began, her voice soft, but George cut her off with a raised hand.

"Jackie, excuse me," he said firmly, before locking eyes with Cole. "Hey, Cole, you wouldn't happen to know anything about a bet with Isaac this morning, would you?"

The room froze. Even the clink of silverware against plates stopped.

Harley's head whipped toward Cole. She saw the shift immediately—his smirk faltered, the easy confidence slipping into something guilty.

Her stomach dropped. Arms folding across her chest, she leaned back slowly. "What did you do?" Her voice was quiet but sharp, disappointment laced through every syllable.

Cole didn't look at her. Instead, he stuffed a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Nope," he mumbled around the food. "Doesn't ring a bell."

George leaned forward, tone low and dangerous. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. You want to try again?"

"Seriously, Cole?" Katherine's voice cut across the table, sharper than usual.

Cole sighed, exasperated, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated shrug. "It was just a joke." His tone was defensive, almost careless.

Across the table, Jackie gasped softly. It wasn't loud, but the sound sliced through Harley. She snapped her gaze to Jackie, whose face had gone pale, her eyes wide with hurt.

Harley's confusion deepened. "Wait—what's happening?"

"Maybe ask Jordan what he's got on camera," Alex muttered, his voice laced with accusation.

Isaac bristled instantly. "Dude, seriously?"

Lee's expression darkened. "You dragged us into this?"

Jordan shoved his fork against his plate, glaring at Alex. "Thanks for that," he muttered, keeping his eyes down.

Katherine exhaled, pressing a hand to her forehead. Her gaze flicked to Jackie, heavy with regret. "Jackie, I don't even know what to say..."

Jackie's posture stiffened, her face smoothing into something unreadable. When she spoke, her tone was calm but icy. "I need to fix my hair." She stood abruptly, pushing her chair back.

Katherine half-rose, reaching out. "Can I at least help?" she asked softly.

Jackie paused in the doorway, her eyes glinting with steel. "No, thank you." Her voice was firm, final.

The room fell silent again as her footsteps faded down the hall.

George leaned back in his chair, his authority filling the space like thunder. "Jordan," he said, each syllable heavy. "Get the camera."

Cole finally dropped his fork, the clang against the plate loud in the silence. He glanced at Harley for the first time, but she didn't meet his eyes.

Her stomach churned. Whatever he'd done—it wasn't just a joke. And the worst part? Harley wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Harley stayed the night after what could only be described as the most awkward dinner ever. The moment plates had been cleared, she and Cole had bolted upstairs, leaving the rest of the Walters to pick apart the tension in their own ways.

Now, hours later, Harley paced the length of Cole and Danny's shared room, her arms locked tight across her chest.

"Bleach? What. The. Actual. Fuck," she hissed, shooting him a look that could have curdled milk.

Cole lounged against the headboard, shirtless, trying to appear unbothered. The flicker of defensiveness in his eyes betrayed him. "Don't turn into Mum, okay?" he muttered, tone edged with sarcasm.

Harley laughed once—sharp, disbelieving. "Bleach," she repeated, savouring the word like it was toxic. "I mean, sure, it's funny in theory, but bleach? Really?"

"I don't get what the big deal is," Cole mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as if he could scrub away the guilt clinging there.

"Couldn't it have been, I don't know, temporary hair dye? Shampoo that makes your hair green? Literally anything other than bleach?" she said, eyebrows climbing.

Cole's sigh was long, almost theatrical, and he leaned further into the pillows. Harley stopped pacing and dropped down beside him, folding her legs under herself. For a moment, she just looked at him—her best friend, trying too hard to be invincible.

Her expression softened. She reached out, threading her fingers gently through his hair. The gesture was small, but it stripped away the façade he was trying to hold.

"You're not usually like this," she said quietly. "Picking on someone. Targeting Jackie. Talk to me—what's going on?"

Cole's gaze flickered toward the ceiling. His voice was low when he answered. "This isn't about Jackie."

Harley tilted her head, unconvinced. "Then why are you being cruel all of a sudden?"

He shook his head once, jaw tightening, and instead of answering, shifted closer until his head rested against her shoulder. He let the silence carry his weight, pressing it onto her instead of words.

Harley didn't push. She knew him better than anyone—when he shut down, forcing him only made him dig deeper into the dark. So she kept combing her fingers through his hair, the rhythm steady, reassuring.

These were the moments she cherished most: the quiet pockets of time where words weren't needed, where Cole let himself lean on her without the shield of cocky jokes or smug smiles.

Whatever storm was brewing inside him, she trusted he'd tell her when he was ready.

After a long while, Harley broke the silence, her voice light, teasing. "Do you wanna get pizza?"

Cole let out a soft laugh, his body finally easing against her. "Yes, ma'am," he said, the corner of his mouth tugging into a small, grateful smile.

For now, that was enough.

my babies oh my babies