I just smile at the guy, nodding like it’s no big deal. Instead, the only thought that runs through my mind is,yeah, I could getused to that.I don’t say it out loud. I just smile, shrug a little, and keep the conversation moving.
When we walk away, Quinn glances at me like she’s waiting for something, a clarification, maybe. I squeeze her hand lightly and offer nothing else. Neither of us says anything and neither of us lets go of the other.
The walk back is quieter. Not awkward. Just both of us lost in our thoughts. Her fingers stay linked with mine, swinging slightly between us, and something about that feels more intimate than anything that happened so far this weekend. Like, this is real now.
Back at the apartment, she drops onto the couch with a tired sigh. “All that fresh air and walking, and you keeping me up half the night…”
“You’re exhausted.” I watch as she slumps further into the couch cushions.
“I’m just resting my eyes.” She’s asleep within five minutes. I stand there and watch her for a few minutes, then I start moving. Laundry first, because apparently, we’ve already reached the stage where her clothes are mixed in with mine. It doesn’t bother me though, instead it causes something warm to settle low in my stomach. I pause holding one of her shirts, then lift it anyway. It smells like her. I shake my head, smiling to myself, then toss it into the washer.
When I walk back into the living room, she’s curled tighter into the couch, hair falling across her face. I grab a blanket and drape it over her carefully. She shifts but doesn’t wake. My fingers brush her hair back and I lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. She sighs in her sleep and something inside me goes quiet.
I cook while she naps. I turn on some music, but keep it low. The pan sizzles softly and the apartment smells like garlic and butter and something that feels dangerously close to home.Every few minutes I glance over at her. She looks peaceful. Like she belongs here. The thought sneaks up on me before I can stop it but I realize I don’t hate it.
She wakes blinking sleepily as she sits up. “You cooked?” Her nose scrunches in the cutest way as she inhales deeply.
I smirk. “I think I’ve proved my skills in the kitchen, but happy to demonstrate again.”
She laughs softly, padding into the kitchen, still wrapped in the blanket. She leans against the counter watching me, and for a second I just stare back. And somehow it doesn’t feel weird anymore.
Dinner is quiet, comfortable. At one point she shares, almost absentmindedly, “Today felt so normal.”
I glance up, my brow quirking up. “Good normal?”
She nods as she smiles. “Yeah.” Something warm spreads through my chest. We don’t push the conversation further. We don’t need to.
Later, the apartment settles into evening calm. She’s curled beside me again, head resting on my shoulder while we watch something neither of us is paying attention to. Her fingers trace lazy circles against my arm.
I look down at her and realize I’m already dreading tomorrow. The end of this. The return to schedules and rehearsals and everything outside these walls. I tighten my arm around her slightly. She melts closer without thinking.
And it hits me, quiet and undeniable. I don’t just want this weekend. I want what comes after it. I hold her a little closer, a little tighter, like some part of me already knows this kind of quiet never lasts.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Quinn
Just A Girl
No Doubt
The alarm clockcuts through the room, shrill and insistent. I groan and burrow deeper into the pillow, warm and half tangled in sheets that smell like him. A heavy arm tightens around my waist, tugging me closer, and for a second I forget what day it is.
Then my eyes crack open. Sunlight spills across the room. The clock blinks a time that makes my stomach drop. “Oh my God!”
I push up on my elbows, hair falling into my face. Beside me, Mikey squints at the clock, still half asleep, confusion turning into sudden awareness. We move at the same time. Sheets fly. Laughter mixes with mild panic as we scramble out of bed, stepping on discarded clothes, searching for things that should be obvious but aren’t.
“This is your fault,” I hop on one foot while trying to find my jeans.
His laugh follows me. “My fault? You’re the one who woke me up two times during the night.”
“Is that a complaint?” My hand balls into a fist as it lands on my now jutting hip.
“Absolutely not.” He cocks a satisfied grin my way. “But it definitely makes us sleeping late your fault.”
I glare over my shoulder, and somehow that turns into him catching my wrist to yank me back to him. The rush of the morning fades for a moment, replaced by warmth and familiar hands and the way his smile turns softer when he looks at me now. The kiss starts playful. It doesn’t stay that way.
Time slips again; hands, laughter, breathless whispers and kissing until reality crashes back in with the reminder that we’re still late. I shove at his chest, laughing. “I’m never making it to work at this rate.”
