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On me. Under me. Moaning for me. Breaking all the stupid fucking rules I’ve set.
“Bed’s fine.” I say and climb to my feet. “Kissing only.”
He nods, dropping to his bed next to me when I sit down. He doesn’t climb into my lap, his hands remain in his lap. His eyes drop to my mouth before going back to meet my eyes. And he doesn’t move an inch until I say, “Okay. Come here.”
Then he’s fucking perfect.
He matches me, and I’m pretty sure he no longer needs kissing lessons and I’m just being a selfish asshole. When I thread my fingers into his hair, he makes a small sound and then swallows it, as if sounds might count the same as emotions. When I stop, he stops. Instantly. No pouting lips. No roaming hands. No naked bodies. He just sits back, his ears a little pink and his breathing uneven and waits for the next instruction.
“Was that okay?” he asks.
No, I fucking hated it. I want Quinn to be Quinn, not this shell of himself he’s been doing since I told him it wouldn’t happen like that again.
“Yeah,” I say again, hoping my face stays blank. “Good. You’re—getting it.”
“I practiced it in my head.” He says it like it’s a homework assignment I’ve given him and I’m going to grade him on it next. “I didn’t want to skip ahead.”
I roll my teeth over my lower lip and watch him. I want to tell him to skip ahead. I want him to climb on top of me and grind us both to another orgasm. I want the version of him that pulled off his shirt without thinking and said what if I’m okay with it.
But I told him that we weren’t doing that version of him. And he’s doing it.
“Same time Saturday?” he asks, already putting distance between us. He reaches for a book on the nightstand while I just stare at him.
“Saturday I have my first internship day at the crime lab in Ypsi.”
His eyebrows go up in surprise. “Internship?”
I rub the back of my neck and stand up, moving across to my bed, before hoisting myself up to sit on the edge. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I know.”
“Isn’t that what friends do?”
“Jesus, Quinn, stop acting like you’re a puppy I kicked. It’s a requirement for my degree.” I hate the way he flinches at my words, but I don’t take them back. Maybe some distance will be good for us.
He swallows and looks at the book in his hands for a second too long, then opens it.
“Congratulations,” he says, polite as a stranger. “I hope it goes well.”
My heart throbs painfully. A weight pressing on my chest. I manage a tight, “Thanks.”
He doesn’t look up. In fact, he doesn’t do any of the normal things he would do. As the silence drags out and he keeps his eyes on the book, I hop down from my bed. I can’t stay here.
I don’t say goodbye as I grab my keycard and leave.
It’s better this way.
THIRTY-FOUR
QUINN
I almost cancel lunch.
What’s one more thing? I’ve been canceling a lot of things. Texts from my friends sit unread, sometimes for more than a day. Lincoln tried to get me to hang out, and I told him I had a lab that didn’t exist. Vee sent me a meme at some point, and I hearted it two days later. Sarah waved at me from across the quad, and I pretended I didn’t see her, just so I didn’t need to make small talk.
The cafe is as loud as it normally is. It grates under my skin. My eyes find Christine already at our table. She waves, a happy smile already taking over her face. It falls slightly when I lift my hand in a small wave. When I approach the table, she doesn’t stand up, she holds out her fist to bump, reading my current mood accurately.
