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Clicking my seatbelt into place, I reach over to turn the music down a little. We exchange an awkward pair of side-glances, like we’re not sure which of us should speak first. Honestly, I don’t even know where to start.
“Listen—”
“I think?—”
We laugh when we speak at the same time. Quinn nods to me as she pulls out onto the main road. “You first.”
I clear my throat. “About last night—you don’t have to apologize. If anything, I should be apologizing for Reese. He was a complete Neanderthal to you. You couldn’t have known what was going to happen in that bathroom.”
“No, no. He was right,” Quinn protests. “I wanted you to have fun, get your mind off all the crazy shit that Reese was putting you through. But it should have never put you in danger. I should have gone with you. Reese may be a dickhead but… last night, he came through where I didn’t. And I can’t be mad at him for doing that.”
I frown. “That’s way too much responsibility for you to put on yourself, Quinn,” I say, my voice gentle. “I got totally hammered. It felt good at first. And then some jackass took advantage of the situation. There’s nothing more or less to it.” I look at her. “Besides, I’m okay, aren’t I?”
“Yeah…” She sighs. “Sorry. You can’t blame me for being worried. You’re my ride-or-die, you know?”
I grin. “You, too, Q. Forever.”
* * *
I’m out with Quinn almost all day. After the tensions ease, we’re back to our usual selves, last night’s nightmare pushed into the backs of our minds. We grab expensive coffees from the local fancy café and then hit up a deli for fresh pastrami sandwiches and a noon drink.
Not wanting to end the day early, we end up scooting through some shops and indulging in much-needed retail therapy. I come out of it with a new pair of shoes and a notebook to help organize some of my thoughts for my blog, along with a couple of outfits that, in Quinn’s words, make me look like a “million-dollar escort,” which she swears is a compliment.
By the time I end up back at Reese’s, the sky is a dusky swirl of cotton candy pinks and rich tangerines. Reese’s car is parked out front, so I know he’s home.
Quinn gives me a knowing look. “You wanna grab some stuff and come home with me?” she asks. “You know I don’t mind.”
I shake my head. “Nah. I’ll be alright.”
Her brow quirks. “Don’t do anything silly, Olivia.”
Like masturbate furiously to just the thought of Reese putting his hands on me? I would never.
I flush, but roll my eyes in the hopes Quinn doesn’t notice. “‘Silly’ isn’t in my nature.”
Inside, the TV is running. Paw Patrol plays to a captivated audience of Violet and Reese, sprawled on the floor together. He hasn’t noticed me yet. I peer over the edge of the couch, watching him make silly faces at her and sing along with the songs. Violet’s laughter at her father’s ridiculous antics echoes through the living room. There’s an intense pull, beckoning me over to them, wanting to be a part of this again as if nothing has happened.
I resist it. I have to, or I’ll slip. I know I will.
Rather than say anything, I make my way to the stairs. Before my foot hits the lowest step, Reese suddenly speaks. “You have a good day?”
I jump and stifle a scream. Does he have some kind of superhuman spidey sense that I don’t know about?
I turn. You got this, Olivia. It’s just a question.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“Cool.” His voice is unusually awkward. “I took Violet out to the park. Just the two of us.”
“I went out with Quinn.”
A flick of irritation runs across Reese’s face. “After last night?”
“She apologized for what happened.”
“And you forgave her?”
“Of course I did. She’s my best friend.”
