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Concern drips into his voice. “If you ever feel like it’s too much—”
“I’m okay. Really.” Sorta. My heart is thudding against my chest. But I am okay. “It’s just, I have a date tonight.”
“Oh?”
“And I’m out of practice.”
“Q, you know I’m even more clueless about straight guys than you are.”
“Yeah.” I can’t help but laugh. He always says the right thing. “But you’re good at this.”
“I got lucky with Reggie.”
“He’s good at it too.”
“Yeah.” My brother’s voice gets dreamy. “The first time we met, he asked me if I believed in love at first sight. Because he hadn’t. Until just then. It was cheesy and obviously bullshit—he was clearly trying to get laid, but—”
“He was hot, so you went with it?” I tease.
He just chuckles. “I might not believe in love at first site, Q, but I’m pretty sure I fell in love with him that night.”
“He was that good?”
Again, he chuckles. “Since when are you dating?”
“I’m always dating.”
“No.” He calls to Reggie. “Q has a date.”
“She hates when you call her that,” Reggie says.
“I’m putting it on speaker.” He does. “You love it, right, Q?”
“Uh…” I hated it, at first, but it’s grown on me. It’s our thing. Owen and I always fought a lot, yeah, but only because we spent so much time around each other. Mom and Dad were (are) always working. We had to entertain ourselves. “It’s tolerable. Like you.”
My brother laughs. “You’re cute when you’re trying to be mean.”
“Am not,” I say.
“Are too.”
Reggie laughs. “You’re such a brat around her. I’m sorry, Quinn. Who’s your date? Is he hot? Is he huge?”
“Yes. And I don’t know.” Probably. With that confidence… how could he not be?
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“He’s surprising me.” I tap my toes together. “He wouldn’t tell me the dress code either.”
“Hmm,” Owen says.
“But, um, he said what I normally wear is great.” My eyes flit to my alarm clock. I have to go soon. Really soon. “He likes my dresses.”
“Of course, he does,” Reggie says. “You look adorable in them.”
“She does,” Owen agrees.
“And so sweet and innocent too. Guys love that.” Reggie laughs as he whispers something to Owen.
Owen whispers back.
“We’re all perverts. Want to think we’re the first to stake our claim somewhere,” Reggie says.
“You did not just use a metaphor for penetration to describe my little sister,” Owen says.
“Your little sister is a babe. If I’d met her first, who knows?” Reggie teases.
“Oh yeah? Should we bet on that?” Owen’s voice gets—
Let’s just not.
It’s sweet of Reggie to say he’d go for me. It’s not impossible (he is bisexual, well, pansexual, meaning he’s into everyone, male, female, trans, gender non-binary, whatever), but it’s about as likely as snow in Los Angeles.
He’s way into Owen’s cockiness.
“Are you showing your boobs?” Reggie asks.
“Straight guys love boobs,” Owen says.
“How can you not like them?” Reggie says.
Owen shrugs. I’m not sure how I can hear it, but I can.
“He’s crazy,” Reggie says. “But he’s right. And yours—”
“You are not talking about my sister’s boobs,” Owen says.
“Sweetie, you know it drives me crazy when you get all protective.” Reggie’s voice drops to something low and breathy.
As soon as they hang up, they’re going to pounce.
Gross.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy they’re happy. But I don’t need to hear details about my brother’s sex life.
“Show your boobs while you can. It will be freezing by October,” Owen says. “Mom is talking nonstop about taking you coat shopping. She thinks you’ve lost your ability to handle winter after four years in California.”
“I might have.”
“You were here at Christmas. You were good.”
I was freezing and miserable, but more from the constant talk of med school than the surroundings. “I’ll survive.”
“Does Romeo know you’re leaving?” Owen asks.
“He’s not really the commitment type.”
He whispers something to Reggie then takes the phone off speaker. His voice gets clearer. Closer. “You don’t have a summer fling in your bones.”
“I do too.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Positive.”
“Then why are you so nervous?”
“I like him.” That’s close to the truth. Owen and I are close. But not hey, I’m trying to lose my virginity, any tips? close.
“Just be yourself.”
“Ramble incoherently about Casablanca?”
“Yeah. If he’s the guy for you, he’ll find it charming.”
“Maybe.”
“Trust me, Q. If he’s worth your time, he’ll like your weird.”
“There’s so much of it.”
“Everyone is like that. Some of us just hide it better than others.” There’s a soft clank. “Shit, I gotta go. You gonna be okay?”
“I think so.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I end the call, slide my cell into my purse, slide my purse onto my shoulder.
Owen is right.
I just have to be myself.
A slightly less awkward, fumbling version of myself.
I can do that.
I can totally do that.
Chapter Nine
Wes
The doorbell rings at five minutes to seven.
Quinn is early.
Of course.
The girl is the picture of manners.
I shrug my shoulders to break up the tension in my back.
