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He took a seat and hid the phone under his desk, then slid his fingers across the screen.
You, too, for what it’s worth. And thank you.
His phone buzzed almost immediately.
NP. Been there. See you tonight. Don’t be late this time. ;-P
Nick wouldn’t be.
CHAPTER 11
Quinn stumbled into the truck and flung her bag on the floor between her feet. She could barely feel her toes, but somehow she was supposed to spend the next two hours dancing.
Her hands slapped over the vents. “Can you turn the heat up?”
Nick obliged her, reaching over and turning the dial all the way to the right. “You okay?”
Her fingers hurt from the cold, and she flexed them a few times. “Yeah. I’ve just been outside for a while.”
He reached over and took her hands, pressing them between his. He brought them to his lips and blew warm air along her fingers. “You should have texted me. What happened?”
Quinn looked up at him over their clasped hands. His face was close, his blue eyes gentle and intent on hers. His clothes were different from what he’d worn to school, and he looked like he’d shaved again, too.
He looked amazing.
A flicker of regret hit her between the eyes. This was so unfair.
She pulled her hands away. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“You’re late.”
“I’m not. It’s seven forty. Did something happen?”
“My brother had his stupid pothead friends over.” Quinn grabbed the seat belt and jerked it across her chest. “I had to get out of there.”
She’d been lucky to get her dance clothes without being groped. Then her mom had gotten in her face and demanded to know where she’d been last night.
Why, Mom? Were you conscious?
At the stop sign at the end of her lot, Nick turned to look at her. “You could have called me. I would have come to get you.”
“You were working.” She sounded petulant and she didn’t care. She knew he would have come to get her, because that’s what perfect boyfriends did. “Did you dress up for Adam?”
He gestured down at his clothes. “I wouldn’t call this dress-ing up.”
She would. Dark-washed jeans and a forest-green pullover that clung to the muscles of his chest. He’d probably told his brothers he was getting ready for a date with her.
Quinn looked out the window. She didn’t know what was wrong with her tonight. This felt like jealousy, but that was insane. It had been her idea to keep pretend dating in the first place!
“Are you mad at me?” Nick sounded puzzled. Almost hurt.
“No, Nick. I’m not mad.”
He put an arm out. “Come here. What’s wrong?”
She was tempted to curl against him and let him stroke her hair or whisper assurances or whatever he was so good at. She didn’t move. “Forget it. It’s fine.”
