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“We can’t do this. It’s never going to work,” I mutter again nervously.
Having him so close to me isn’t doing anything for my sanity, so I take a few steps back, tightening my ponytail so I have something to do with my hands, when all I want to do is reach out and touch him. To remember what it was like to press my hand to his hard chest and feel the steady beat of his heart under my palm, and have the warm and spicy smell of him surrounding me like a blanket, while he gripped my hips, and I held my lips against his.
Is it hot outside tonight, or is it just me?
“It’s going to work.” Quinn chuckles as I fidget with my shirt and readjust a few bangle bracelets on my wrist.
Even though a part of me wanted to pick out something super pretty to wear to try to impress Quinn and make him look at me the way he did at lunch when I stepped out of the car, a much bigger, smarter part of me said, Fuck that shit. I don’t need to impress anyone. He’s already seen me at my worst. Technically, the white Anthropologie tee with a bright yellow sun in the middle of it that I tucked into my favorite pair of cut-offs is one of my “dressy” shirts here on the island. And okay, so maybe I did video chat with Carson earlier so he could help me with a subtle smoky eye, and I exchanged my usual pair of Converse for a pair of flat, strappy sandals to show off my freshly painted toenails.
Whatever. Maybe I just wanted to look pretty for me, okay?
“Why are you suddenly so nervous? It’s just dinner with your parents. You were calm as hell with Jeanie,” Quinn reminds me quietly, the soft glow of one of the streetlights letting me see the concern on his face. “I promise I won’t tell them how we met and just how much vomit can come out their daughter.”
For the first time since I met him, I am physically unable to return his laugh. Nothing is funny or amusing about this situation, and I feel more nervous right now than I did cheering at the Super Bowl, with over a hundred million people watching. I should be ecstatic and patting myself on the back that Quinn in no way sensed just how much I was losing my mind during that lunch. That he didn’t know every time he pulled out my chair or held open a door, I wanted to melt into a puddle at his feet and beg him never to leave me, and it frustrated the hell out of me. He had no clue that every time he playfully twirled a lock of hair around his fingers, my entire body hummed with need and my brain immediately brought forth an image of him gripping my hair in his fist while he fucked me, making me drink so many glasses of ice water during lunch I’m surprised I was even able to make it to the bathroom when it was over.
Focus, Emily! Stop thinking about Quinn naked!
“Exactly! It’s dinner with my parents,” I stress, starting to pace back and forth in the driveway again, when my feet want nothing more than to launch me into his arms. “It was one thing to pretend in front of Jeanie. She’s a stranger I never had to see again. These are my parents. They may not know me very well, but they know me well enough to recognize when I’m faking something.”
Quinn lets me pace a few more times before he finally steps in my way again, resting his hands on my shoulders.
“Truth or dare?” he suddenly asks, a twinkle in his eye as he stares down at me.
“Truth,” I immediately reply.
Quinn jerks his head back in surprise.
“Wow. You really are nervous.” He chuckles softly.
He runs his hands off my shoulders and down my arms, making my flesh break out in goose bumps, the whisper-light touch of his fingers drifting off when they get to my wrists, then shoves his hands in the front pockets of his shorts.
“What’s so bad about your parents?” Quinn asks softly as I cross my arms in front of me.
“They’re good people,” I quickly reply, not wanting him to think he’s about to walk into a house of horrors or anything. “I can’t really blame them for not understanding me that well. They had a business to run and four other kids to raise. And I have older siblings who could keep an eye on me when they weren’t around or were too busy. My siblings were the ones who put their lives on hold to cart me all over the place for competitions and dance classes. They were the ones who sat in the emergency room with me every time I sprained a wrist or twisted another ankle. And my friends were the ones who came to every single game I cheered at in high school, and the home games in college, and came out to see me cheer for the Vipers whenever they could.”
