Harley Nicknames Novels & Stories

Harlem Lee was pointing at Harvey York with his nose. “That’s right! If you can’t even buy a bicycle, you won’t be able to hide the poor stench on you no matter what!” “I like riding on my scooter. What does it have to do with any of you? Harvey parked the scooter before glaring at Harlem and the others. “Good dogs don’t get in the way of other people.” “Are you calling me a dog, Harvey? Harlem let out a scoff.

So my curiosity now about who she meant when she said he's way hotter was through the roof. Then she clarified even more than I could've asked for. "Besides, let me see?" She walked back to get a closer look again. "Yep. That's a Bolt. Poor man's 883. I doubt Nico would ever own one of those. His might all be older models, but I've never seen him on anything but a Harley."

Marius casually pulled on Lucien's T-shirt and smirked. "Ask your wife." "Daddy!" Harley ran in and clung to Lucien's leg. "Cousin saved Vicky! He even kissed her! Mommy said it was mouth-to-mouth!" Cousin? Lucien's sharp gaze cut straight to Marius, who instantly turned pale. "You little gremlin! Who are you calling cousin?" Marius growled. Lucien shielded Harley behind him and said coolly, "Harley, listen carefully—his name is 'No Muscles'."

Asked the girl, confused, over her question. “No, I mean, there are so many people here for interview. They can't all possibly be here for a secretary job?” Asked Emma with a sarcastic smile. But Harley's reply, was something, which she was not at all expecting, “Are you even in your senses? He's NICKLAUS WESLEY…” Said Harley by putting stress on the name, and added, “He is the most popular, the most powerful, the richest and the most hottest bachelor, in the entire New York. People are crazy for him and now a chance to get close to him, which idiot will let go of that.” Explained Harley.

It feels nice to have feisty enemies, makes your reputation grow. "We did coke, Harley," I say, not ashamed to speak the truth. After losing Bel, I don't give a damn about what the Powers think of me anymore. "We didn't go around begging our enemies for their last name." Her fingers curl to fists. I can literally see her gritting her teeth and know that my words struck a nerve. It is easy to annoy Harley; she is always unguarded. One sexual remark here, one sarcastic comment there and you have yourself a Harley Powers ready to strangle you to death.

Then the second voice says, “Don’t be such an asshole, Harley.” Harley! I haven’t thought about Harley in a long time, but immediately his face jumps to the forefront of my mind. He was always so gentle when we were kids. He was never a part of the pack of boys who ran around picking fights, scrapping with each other. He was softer. And when he was chosen as the alpha mate to my best friend, Jessica, I was thrilled for both of them, because they both had such kind natures. It’s impossible to imagine the Harley I knew calling anyone a little bitch for wanting to eat with a fork.

We owned the underground of New York, and we were good at it. I walked over to my midnight-black Harley, gleaming in the morning light. The chrome was engraved with our moon emblem — proud, dangerous, and untouchable. I grabbed my leather jacket from the ground, dusted it off, and pulled it back on. My hair fell across my forehead as I raked a hand through it. “Gareth’s losing it again,” Nova muttered, strapping on her helmet beside her bike. “He’s wrong this time,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Rylan needs to stay the hell off my turf and worry about his own collections. He’s been short for months. And my father’s got the nerve to tell me I’m the one slacking.”

Nathaniel said, and Sebastian shrugged. "Okay, I'm still not seeing why we should give a fuck," he handed the phone back to Alexander. "Nobody in our old group is recent of age. We are behind desks in offices, not behind the wheel in races." "That's where you're wrong," Alexander said as I saw we finally hit our destination. Nathaniel lowered down his window as a kid in a white shirt with black glasses came up to the window. "Names and line manager?" "Haze, Gunner, Blitz, and Asphalt," Nathaniel gave the guy a few minutes to input our old nicknames we used to go by in high school. "Line manager Ezra Romano."

Ralph covered his face, thinking that it would be the end if his friends were to hear his new nickname. Fortunately, the two of them dated privately anyway. After they got married, he would ask her to call him “Honey” instead. At this thought, he turned to face her and said, “You can call me whatever as long as it makes you happy. I’d be happy even if you call me a pig.” Hannah’s face was red. “I won’t call you that.” “Then we have a deal. When you call me… Ralphy, I’ll call you Annie?” Ralph would never be able to get used to saying Ralphie.