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He’d been pretty sweet before she found out he was g*y, but now . . . now she knew he liked her for her, when all the other guys she’d ever dated took every opportunity to get into her pants.
It seemed fitting that the best relationship in her life would be just as dysfunctional as all her other ones. Her alcoholic mother.
Her more-absent-than-not father. Her stoner older brother and her video game–obsessed younger brother. The cheerleaders who hated her, the dance team that didn’t want her—if a g*y boyfriend was the best she could do, she’d take it.
He worried he was using her—well, she worried she was using him. Hanging out with Nick gave her an opportunity to avoid her own family. And Becca, too, if you got right down to it.
Quinn didn’t resent losing her best friend to Chris Merrick.
Much.
“You’re quiet,” said Nick.
Quinn glanced over. He was driving the landscaping truck with one hand on the wheel, the other arm across the seat backs.
For one second, she regretted the whole g*y thing and wished she could curl up against him, let his arm wrap around her shoulder and make her feel wanted.
Then she told that moment of longing to shove it.
“I was thinking about Becca,” she said.
“She and Chris seem to be getting pretty serious.” He seemed amused.
She snorted. “Like a heart attack.”
He was silent for a moment. “You guys aren’t hanging out much lately?”
Nick could always see right through her. Quinn shrugged.
“It’s fine. I’m glad she’s happy.”
“And you sound so sincere about it.”
Quinn hit him on the arm. “No. I am. I just . . . miss her, you know? And I’m . . .”
Jealous. She was jealous.
But she couldn’t say that.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I shouldn’t have brought up Becca.
She’s just spending all this time with Chris, and I get it, but she doesn’t talk to me anymore. I don’t think she’s hiding something, but it’s almost like she’s got this new life that I’m not a part of. If that makes any sense.”
Nick sighed. “Yeah, Quinn, it actually makes a lot of sense.” He hit the turn signal for their street. “Did you tell Becca about me?”
“Of course not! God, what kind of friend do you think I am?”
He held up a hand. “I’m just saying—maybe you both have secrets.”
“Maybe.”
He dropped his arm to give her half a hug—totally platonic, and nothing she really wanted. But she took the comfort all the same.
“You’re a good friend,” he said. “That’s the kind I think you are.”
Quinn straightened and studied him. Nick really was a looker—all dark hair and blue eyes and broad shoulders. Muscled arms from all the landscaping. Just enough freckles sprin-kled across those high cheekbones to make him look boyish and charming.
Then again, his twin brother had those same freckles, and there was nothing boyish and charming about him.
