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“Uh… I’m cooking spaghetti…?”
There’s a loud clatter and Quinn sounds far away, so I can’t make out what she’s saying. I do catch a couple of For fuck’s sakes thrown out there. A bit of white noise and what sounds like a banshee screech later, Quinn comes back.
“You’re so annoying.” She huffs in irritation. “I spend all week trying to get a hold of you, then when you finally call me, you beat around the bush on all my questions! I think to myself, ‘Hm, something must’ve happened. Liv doesn’t keep things from me. We’re besties! So obviously, something is wrong. Maybe this guy is keeping her tied up on some Fifty Shades shit? Maybe he’s one of those do-everything-I-say-when-I-say-it drill sergeant types. Maybe he’s worse than that Harrison son of a bitch, harassing her all the time?!’ And then, with all those nightmare scenarios floating around in my head, I ask you what’s wrong. And what do you do? You tell me you’re cooking. fucking. spaghetti.”
I wince when her speech ends. I feel instantly awful. I never want to worry Quinn to the point she’s actually thinking that I’m in danger.
“It’s a good thing you love me,” I mumble awkwardly.
“You’re lucky I do!” Quinn lets out another exasperated huff. “Okay, enough ranting. Time to spill. If it’s not some life-threatening thing, then what is it?”
I nibble my bottom lip before I answer. “I signed an NDA.”
Silence again. I hope this is us just getting all the year’s potential awkward silences out of the way in one go.
“Yanno, that really, really doesn’t make me feel any better, Olivia.”
“He’s a multi-millionaire celebrity hockey player,” I explain in a hurry. “He doesn’t want people knowing all his business because he has a nanny living with him.”
“YOU’RE LIVING WITH HIM!?”
Oh, right. I hadn’t updated Quinn on that yet. Or?—
“Does Lisa know?!”
It’s like Quinn is a mind reader.
“Hadn’t gotten around to telling her yet, either.”
Q grumbles. “You know, you’re lucky that I’m in the middle of work right now and I can’t just hop on a plane. I’d fly back home just to strangle you! Urgh. Well. Fine. You signed an NDA. Is there anything you are allowed to tell me?”
“I’m safe,” I assure her. “And I meant what I said: he really hasn’t been around much. When we have interacted, he’s a bit of a cocky jerk, but he’s nothing like Eric Harrison. Pinky swear.”
“Mmm. He better not be. I’ll kick him in the dick!”
There’s my Quinn. “Don’t do that. It’s illegal.”
“Like I care. So why the change of plans? How’d you end up shacking up with the bosshole?”
I shrug as I slide the vegetables into the saucepan. “I don’t think he’s much of the being-around-kids type,” I say. “So, I’m living here. I do get time off.”
“You better!” I can just picture her planning on following through with her plans to fly here to kick him in the dick if the answer was otherwise. She sighs, still frustrated but putting it on the backburner for my sake. “Well, since I can’t get any hot, juicy deets out of you, here’s something for you, not that you deserve it: the uptight, seduction-proof, can’t-take-a-hint bastard I’ve been going gaga over kissed me! Like, he kissed me. He initiated.” I can practically hear her swoon. “Oh, and it was so good, too. Like, I don’t know if he was pent-up or if he is just really good at kissing, but it went on and on and I didn’t want to stop. It felt like middle school all over again.”
I chuckle. At least there’s something to occupy her long enough to forget that she was upset with me. I wonder how long the infatuation will last now that she’s gotten him to break.
“Did it go anywhere?”
“Of course not! He kissed me in the middle of work and when I tried to get handsy ‘cause I was ready to dry hump ‘til the cows came home, he was all, ‘I already overstepped, and you don’t need the distraction.’ I’m like, ‘SIR. I am already distracted by trying to get that dick in my?—”
“Quinn!” I cackle like a madwoman. “You’re going to get yourself into some capital-T trouble.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do! It’s fun.”
There’s a part of me that envies Quinn. Having the freedom to just go for it like that—it’s beyond me.
But that’s exactly why I don’t tell her about that dream I had. I know that as soon as I give her those juicy deets, she’ll be encouraging me to do precisely what she’s doing. I think if I have someone hyping me up, that devil on my shoulder, I might actually follow through.
I can’t take a risk like that.
