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“What’s wrong?”
“Am I being an idiot, Quinn?”
He could feel her studying him in the darkness. “I think I need more information.”
“With Adam.”
She was quiet for a minute. He pulled up the driveway to his house and killed the engine. They couldn’t sit here too long, but they could never finish this conversation in the house, so he waited with the keys in his hand, his eyes on the darkened dash.
Quinn let out a slow breath. “You really like him,” she said softly. “Like, full on hearts in your eyes, doodling your last name with his, making up—”
“Quinn.”
She pulled her legs up on the bench to sit cross-legged. “Did you go back to his place?”
He winced, feeling like he was admitting something he shouldn’t. “Yes.”
“Was there more kissing or more talking?”
His face felt warm again, and he fiddled with the keys in his lap. Was this how girls felt? He didn’t like it. “Dead even.”
“Did anyone’s clothes come off?”
“No!” Thank god. But now he was imagining it.
God, this was so confusing. He shouldn’t have thrown away the cup sleeve with Courtnie’s number. That he knew how to handle.
But another part of him railed against the idea, like he’d cracked a door and his subconscious had wedged an arm into the opening.
Quinn was quiet for a while. “I’ve known Adam for a long time,” she finally said. “But that doesn’t mean I know him well.
He doesn’t bring a lot of guys around the studio or anything—
but he never seems lonely, either. Are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know. You called, and I left in a hurry. He said he’d text me later.” Nick checked his phone. No new messages from Adam. Not even to ask how Quinn was.
“Sucks being the girl, doesn’t it?” said Quinn.
“Shut up.” But yes. It did.
Nick tried to be quiet when he snuck Quinn into the house, but Hunter stirred and ran a hand across his face when they crept into the bedroom.
His eyes widened fractionally when he saw Quinn, but he took it in stride. “You guys want me to crash on the couch?”
“She’s sleeping here, that’s all,” said Nick.
Hunter yawned and rolled over, turning his back on them.
“Yeah, okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”
Nick usually slept in a T-shirt and boxers, but out of defer-ence to Quinn’s presence in his bed, he pulled on a pair of threadbare sweatpants. They changed in the dark, and then he drew back the blankets.
Quinn slid in beside him. She offered his modesty no defer-ence. His hand brushed bare thigh, but before he could react to that, she was pressed up against him, her leg slung over his.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, controlling the air so the sound waves of their conversation wouldn’t carry to Hunter.
“Come on,” she breathed. “If I’m caught here, it should at least look like we’re sleeping together.”
