The Biggs house was chaos—sweaty costumes, spilled drinks, fake blood, and laughter echoing off the walls. Music thumped through the floorboards, and orange lights flickered like candle flames. It was Halloween night. Hughie’s birthday. And Joey Lynch had officially lost his mind the second his childhood best friend showed up in fishnets and smudged red lipstick, her blonde hair in pigtails.

Harley Quinn. To his Joker.

They hadn’t planned it like that—not really. She’d asked last-minute, said it would be funny, said “We already bicker like them anyway.” Joey had agreed, stupidly.

And now they were in the guest bedroom at the Biggs house.

Seven minutes.

The door clicked shut behind them, and the shouts began. “KISS!” “GO ON, LYNCH!” “JOEY’S GONNA CHOKE!”

He sat on the edge of the bed, hands locked between his knees. She stood near the dresser, arms crossed over her costume, biting her lip and not quite meeting his eye.

“They’re not gonna stop unless we do it,” she muttered.

Joey shook his head, barely glancing at her. “They’ll forget in a minute.”

She huffed a laugh. “We could just get it over with, you know.”

He looked up sharply.

“It’s not like we haven’t thought about it,” she added, eyes meeting his now, bold and aching all at once.

He swallowed hard. “I’m not doing it like this.”

“Why not?”

Joey stood. The room was small. She was close. “Because,” he said, his voice low, steady, real. “Not like this. Not when it’s a game. Not when it’s for them.”

They didn’t kiss.

Not then.

Later, long after the party died down and people passed out in fake cobwebs and devil horns, Joey walked her home. Her coat was wrapped tight over the costume, her makeup faded, but she was still the same girl he’d loved since they were kids. Still his Harley.

At her front door, she turned, fingers fumbling with her keys. “Thanks for walking me.”

Joey didn’t answer.

He kissed her instead.

Desperate. Hungry. Honest.

His hands found her face like he’d been memorizing it in dreams, and her lips parted like she’d been waiting for this all along. When they broke apart, breathless, her hands still clung to his hoodie like she wasn’t ready to let go.

Joey pressed his forehead to hers.

“I meant something like that.”