Wyatt
Quinn
Please tell me you saw that!
Me
You’re going to hate me more than you already do…
Quinn
YOU MISSED IT.
Me
I didn’t mean to.
Quinn
Hartwell…
Me
*sends mirror selfie*
Quinn
Okay, fine. I accept for wedding things. But Wyatt! 13.8!
Me
Fuck yeah, Compton.
“Whoareyousmilingat?” Cash’s reflection came up behind me, stretching his neck to look at my phone.
Lachlan, Cash, and I came to the small men’s shop, the same one that fitted my dad for his wedding, and Lachlan for his. Henry Collerwood still ran the shop. Though it was updated to fit the times, he still ran things the same way. Currently, I stood on a pedestal, three mirrors surrounding me, allowing me to see all my best views. I had on gray slacks, a black belt, and a white button-down layered with a gray vest hanging open to reveal the deep, vibrant purple tie. Cash was donning the same ensemble, but topped with a white hat, the black rim around the crown replaced with the same color purple. When Lachlan stepped out of his dressing room, his sleeves were slightly rolled up, showing off his tattoos, and tie undone. You could see it in his face that he was not thrilled with the color selection.
“How come we have purple, and the girls have turquoise?” He grumbled, shoving his hands in his slack pockets.
Not dropping my phone, I snapped a photo of Lachlan and sent it right off to Quinn.
Quinn
Damn, he’s looking good. Remind me, is he single?
Me
And too damn old for you.
“Quinn picked the turquoise from what I hear, and it worked on both her and Kyla.” Cash turned to the mirror and began fiddling with his tie.
“Quinn looks amazing in anything,” I replied absent-mindedly, watching those little dots dance on my screen.
“So it’s Quinn that got you all smiley over there?” Cash nodded his head in my direction. At the same time, a text came through.
Quinn
I’m all for an age gap romance. Give him my number.
