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“Quinn!” Jess hollered through the open kitchen door.

“Can’t stop, I’ll be late.”

“Call it advance notice. If Max hurts you, we’re forming a committee.”

“You are not forming a committee!”

The door closed to the sound of muffled laughter.

I stepped into the cold morning air, my heart doing that irritating hopeful thing again.

Bring him to dinner.

The idea shouldn’t have made my pulse jump. This wasn’t a scene—it was yet more integration.

All of a sudden I really wanted to know what Max would say.

Chapter Nineteen

Max

I glanced at my phone. One p.m. That probably meant Quinn’s lunch hour, assuming he ate lunch.

Then why don’t you make sure he does today? Scene, remember? Never mind him falling asleep in it—he’ll be passing out.

Then it hit me. I was looking for an excuse to text him.

This is not good.

That didn’t stop me from opening up Quinn’s thread.

Max: 7pm tonight okay? Assuming it isn’t late night at the library.

It isn’t. And yes, Sir.

I blinked.

(Joke. Relax.) [laugh emoji]

That was definitely not me smiling as I typed. You enjoy doing that too much.

Quinn: And you love that I do.

I had to shift this back to something more serious and less intimate.

Have you considered tonight might not go as you expect it to?

The tickling?

Yes.

I’m prepared. Mentally, at least. This is a soft limit.

I know. Which is why I won’t push you too much.

Three dots… Isn’t that kind of the point? To push me?

I typed quickly. Just remember you can safeword if you need to. You don’t endure it because you feel the need to prove something.