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Fingers curled around mine. “Everything you set your mind to do, you do with a perfectionist’s heart. And I know you want to do perfect by your friends too.”
I said, “‘Aim for the moon; even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.’ W. Clement Stone.”
He laughed. “That’s why I love you, Liam.”
I jerked at that and Quinn squeezed my hand gently. Tightness thickened my middle and my throat wouldn’t let any words pass. I blinked in his smile and felt the gentle tremors pass from him to me.
He said softly, “It touches me, the way you show your love.”
I shifted, lifting my knees and curling my free arm around them. The blanket slipped, but I wasn’t feeling the cold anymore. I’d always been told in the past that I wasn’t very good at showing my affection. How could Quinn see it, then? And how could it touch him?
As if he read my mind, he nudged his shoulder against mine, and when I glanced at him, he stole my lips into a soft kiss. “You stole my computer, cracked my password, and finished my essay when I was sick. You go over my work when you’re busy with your own.” His nose brushed against mine. “You chose to help me instead of finishing Dating for the Differently-Abled.”
“It’s a good piece,” I said, untangling our fingers. “It can still be featured in the next Scribe.”
Another lingering kiss. His whispered words, falling over my bottom lip and the tip of my chin. “I know what it really meant to you.”
I pulled back a bit so I could keep eye contact. “Yes, and in an ideal world, I would have landed the features editor position and got my father to notice me. But—” I brought a hand to the back of his neck and played with his bleached hair, “—tonight it came down to you or my father.”
“Thank you for choosing me,” Quinn said again, rolling his neck at my touch.
My fingers skated to his shoulder. “You were the one there at Thanksgiving. You are the one that makes the apartment feel like home.” I looked at him levelly. “This was not a choice, Quinn. I did not need to hum and ahh over my options. The answer was in bold and circled with a giant checkmark at the side.”
I leaned in and kissed his wobbling lip. “It was always going to be you.”
EPILOGUE
The chief curled a finger at me from his doorway. Hunter, peeling the stickers off my stapler, sent me a wink. The kind of wink that said Go get ’em, tiger, the kind that had every bit of confidence in me.
Confidence I’d lost somewhere in the twenty-eighth ranking of the BCA competition.
Chewing enthusiastically on a mint she’d pinched from my drawer, Hannah grabbed her issue of the Post-Gazette and dumped it in front of me with a smile. “You’ll do fine, Liam. This article makes you look really good. Chief won’t be able to argue with that.”
I clapped my eyes on the folded page. Strange how two columns should sum up the events of the night before, when those few moments felt like a lifetime.
It was woefully inadequate.
I pushed my chair back—
Ompf!
Twisting, I came face-to-face with Jill, who sidestepped around my chair. He stood as if his ass was itching and he couldn’t reach the spot. His arms folded and refolded; his gaze met mine defiantly and, with the twitch of his jaw, softened from burning charcoal to mere charcoal.
Across the room, the chief had ducked back into his office. “Make it quick,” I said to him, “I’ve got a meeting with Chief Benedict.”
Jill jerked his head to the side, his bangs sweeping out of his eyes. His gaze slipped to Hunter, and a light blush spread over his cheeks. He looked away again. “I just . . .” He pulled out a rolled-up Scribe from his back pocket and it landed on top of the Post-Gazette. He cleared his throat. “The last few party page columns . . .” He shrugged, again glancing toward Hunter. “They could’ve been worse, is all.”
Hunter placed my newly-naked stapler on my desk and I straightened it next to my inbox trays. “Pain in the ass you are, Jill,” I said, “but chief was right to put you in editing. You don’t do a half-bad job.”
The barest edges of a grin touched his lips, but quickly disappeared behind a grunted, “Thanks.”
“Also . . .” Jill said, backing away from my desk only to knock into Hunter’s chair, “Shit.” He grabbed the arm of the chair and Hunter reached out to steady him with a curious-blue gaze. Jill froze for a moment before coming to his senses and yanking his hand back.
“Also?” I asked, peeking up to the chief’s open door as I stood.
Jill shrugged. “I mean, you left your laptop and notes on Jack’s desk.”
