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He jerked the wheel to turn into the parking lot of the dance studio, then flung the vehicle roughly into park.
He didn’t look at her.
She wasn’t going to wait around for him to make her feel worse, so she got out of the truck and slammed the door closed.
Then she pushed into the nearly empty studio and stomped across the wooden floor, throwing her bag on the ground beside where Adam was making notes on a clipboard.
He looked as good as Nick, despite the bare feet and cutoff sweatpants. He was all unruly hair and dark eyes and caramel skin. A maroon long-sleeved tee did little to hide his build.
Her hair was a windblown mess, and if she took her sweatshirt off, there was probably a roll of pudge hanging over the waistband of her spandex capris. God only knew what state her makeup was in, after nearly crying in the car.
Adam glanced up, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. One kind word and she’d go to pieces.
Nick hadn’t followed her.
She wanted to cry for all the wrong reasons.
Adam set the clipboard down, and she could hear it in his in-drawn breath, that he was going to pry. His hands were already reaching out to touch her.
Just what she needed. Another guy who had no interest in her.
Quinn swiped at her eyes and grabbed her bag. “I can’t do it tonight, Adam. I’m sorry.”
“You—wait. Stop, Quinn—what’s wrong?”
“Not tonight,” she called back. She walked through the back door to the studio, bursting into the cold night air.
Nick’s truck was on the other side of the building—if he’d bothered to wait at all. Quinn hunched her shoulders and headed for the road.
What a dick. Everyone else got everything they wanted.
Becca had Chris. Nick had Adam. Quinn had nothing. She had a fake boyfriend who gave her a raft of shit the first time someone else was nice to her.
The thought rang false inside her head, and she told her subconscious to stick it.
A metro bus was rolling up to the curb. The brakes squealed into the darkness and the door creaked open. Adam took the bus all the time, but Quinn had never tried. At least it was a surefire escape from Nick.
She climbed the steps and sniffed back the last of her tears.
“How much?”
“One sixty, one way. Three fifty, ride all day.”
All day. Quinn wondered who would spend the entire day on a bus. Then she realized it was warm in here, and empty aside from the driver. No one to bother her.
“Ride all night, too?” she asked.
“We stop running at two.”
Well, there went that. She counted out a dollar sixty and crammed her money into the slot.
Once the vehicle started moving, she realized she had no idea where she was going.
Wasn’t that always the case?
Her phone chimed. Nick.
Where did you go?
