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“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Rough night?”

“We pulled an old bloke out of a bathtub at three in the morning. He was fine. I am not. That sight has been burned into my brain.” I take a long sip, and the world narrows to nothing but the taste of decent coffee and the absence of responsibility.

Then the chair beside me scrapes back, and Luca slides into it. We both jump. Ben’s coffee sloshes dangerously close to the edge of his mug.

“Jesus Christ,” Ben mutters. “Do you ever just walk up to people like a normal human?”

Luca sets his espresso on the table. He's wearing an expression that immediately puts me on edge. It's the sort of grin that belongs on a cartoon supervillain just before they pull a lever labelled Don't Pull This.

Ben notices it too. “Just tell us what you're planning.”

Luca's smile somehow widens. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Neither of us says anything. Ben leans forward. I wait. Because Luca Reyes never smiles like that unless somebody else is about to become part of his plan. He lets the silence stretch just long enough to become uncomfortable, clearly enjoying every second of it.

“I have a job for you.”

Ben’s face lights up like someone just handed him front-row tickets to a car crash.

I stare at Luca. “No.”

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

“I don’t need to.”

Ben leans in. “I’m in.”

I turn to look at him. “Ben!”

“What?”

“We literally haven’t heard the plan.”

He shrugs, one-shouldered and utterly unbothered. “I don’t need details.”

I open my mouth, close it, and am still trying to find the right combination of words to explain why volunteering for unspecified jobs from Luca is a spectacularly bad idea when I spot Harper crossing the café floor.

She moves with determination towards our table and now I am even more on edge. She stops at our table. Looks directly at me without acknowledging Ben or Luca.

“You owe me,” she says.

I frown. “For?”

“You're dating my best friend.”

The words are so out of left field that it takes me a minute to process them. I hold her gaze, waiting for the punchline, the smirk, the moment where this becomes another joke at my expense. It doesn’t come.

“...Yes?”

I study her face. Harper has one of those faces that gives away exactly nothing unless she wants it to.

Right now, she's very clearly telling me I'm not getting out of this.

“Which means you owe me.” she says.