So Maybe I Want A Bad Boy!

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**Clad**

"Good evening, sir. Do you need help with something?" The flight attendant greeted me as soon as I boarded.

Her face shifted from neutral to recognition. I quickly pressed my index finger to my lips. She blinked and nodded, understanding without a word, and I smiled in relief. She blushed slightly.

"Seat?" I asked, keeping it simple.

I had barely checked the details when I got a call from Mr. Moore, explaining a little mishap with the booking.

"Oh, what's your seat number?" She asked, her tone friendly, though a bit cautious.

I showed her my boarding pass. She stepped a little closer before stepping back again, almost as if surprised by the proximity.

"27B, right this way, sir," she said lightly. I followed her down the aisle.

She stopped in front of my row, and my frown deepened when I saw the seat beside mine was empty. Harley wasn't there.

Where was she? I scanned the area. Some of her belongings were scattered across the seat, but there was no sign of her.

"Here," the attendant said, gesturing toward the seat. Her smile was warm, but I couldn't shake the feeling something was off.

"Thanks. Did I look as lost as I feel?" I asked, offering my usual smile. She was pretty, but I wasn't in the mood for distractions.

Instead of answering directly, she blushed and shook her head. "No. You looked handsome, don't worry," she said.

I was about to respond when Harley appeared, looking like she'd just rolled out of bed. The sight made me smile even more.

"Really? I thought you saw a lost little lamb," I teased.

The attendant let out a small laugh. "How could you describe yourself as a little lamb? You're far from that," she said with an implication I could only guess at. She glanced at her watch, then pulled something from her pocket. "I'm on duty, but maybe we'll talk later," she said, walking away without giving me a chance to reply.

I looked at the card in my hand, then at Harley, who was still standing there, looking somewhat... off.

"Are you not going to sit?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She scoffed. "How could I, when you were busy flirting with the attendant?"

"Jealous? Do you want me to flirt with you instead?" I asked, leaning back slightly.

She rolled her eyes. "Desperate much? I told you, I've got a man. I don't need you doing anything with me."

I chuckled lightly. "Nine years, and you've gotten sharp-tongued. The other day at the club, I thought it was the alcohol talking."

"You can never be sure with me," she replied, giving me a pointed look. "Don't bother trying to predict my actions. It won't end well for you."

I raised my eyebrows, impressed. This was a different side of Harley. I thought she was unbearable when she was sober, but this was worse.

Before I could respond, she grabbed her headphones and tried to put them on, but I pulled them off before she had the chance.

"What are you doing?" she snapped, glaring at me.

"Hey, your dad asked you to keep me company. What are you doing?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she pressed her hand to her mouth. "Really? I don't remember my father saying that. He must have forgotten. You know how they get when they get old." She looked back at me and added, "Now let me listen to my music in peace. I've got a long way before I reach my destination."

She was lying, but I didn't push.

"Why are you grumpy?" I asked instead.

"Why are you so nosy?" she mumbled, refusing to look at me.

Before I could respond, her face wrinkled in discomfort. She tapped my arm quickly. "Move. I need to go somewhere," she said in a hurry.

I paused for a moment, confused. "What's going on?"

"Move. She needs to go, brother. Don't you get it? A minute's delay is a minute too late," someone behind us spoke. I turned to see a chubby guy holding a bag of chips, looking at me with mild annoyance. I frowned, but stepped aside to let her through.

She rushed past me like her life depended on it.

"Do you know what's going on?" I asked the guy.

"Nope. She's been like this since she boarded," he said, crunching loudly on his chips.

I glanced back toward Harley. Soon, she returned, her hair a little disheveled, and her face dimmed with exhaustion. She was clutching her stomach.

"What?" she snapped, catching me staring.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my concern slipping out before I could stop it.

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm fine. Now move," she said sharply, and I could tell she was on edge.

"No," I replied, smirking. "Have you ever heard of 'please' and 'thank you?'"

She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you've turned into such a jerk, Clad. Move, so I can get to my seat."

For a moment, I almost considered moving, but where was the fun in that?

"Those aren't the magic words, Harley," I said, settling back into my seat.

She stood there, visibly frustrated, then placed a trembling hand on her stomach. It was enough to make me reconsider, but just as I was about to speak, the attendant appeared again.

"Is everything okay, ma'am?" she asked.

Before Harley could respond, I cut in. "Yes, everything's fine. The lady just..."

"She had a bad stomach, needs to run to the restroom a lot," the chubby guy chimed in.

The attendant nodded. "Alright, but you need to be seated now."

Harley gave a small, irritated nod, and instead of asking me to move again, she placed her leg over me and slid into her seat with a swift motion. "What? Did you think I couldn't do it?" she whispered, her grin returning as she settled into her side.

The attendant looked shocked and a bit mad, but Harley intercepted before she could say anything. "There. Seated."

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