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Chapter Twenty-One
Quinn
I’m embarrassed.
So fucking embarrassed.
So hurt.
And the worst part is that I feel like the guilty party, like I did something wrong for being seduced by her twin, when I had no idea, it was dark, she was acting just like her.
And every stupid time I opened up my mouth to talk about that experience… she knew it was her sister, she knew!
I feel sick to my stomach but can’t catch a plane until the next day, one thing I do know, the last thing I want to do is spend one more minute in that house so I grab my shit and I walk down the lane and stop at Zane’s house, I knock twice, he jerks open the door. “Oh, you.”
I have sunglasses on, aviators to be exact, that and a white t-shirt, ripped black jeans and my duffel bag. I even left some shit, but I’ll go back and get it later. “Yeah, trust me, I don’t like this any more than you do.”
He grabs my duffel tosses it inside the house then closes the door behind him, “I’m recording with Drew, you’re coming with, the last thing I need is to be guilty of your death, the balcony’s a bit high and there are rocks underneath, you wouldn’t just go splat and see cherubs, you’d go splat and bleed to death.”
“Kind of dark.”
“Darkness recognizes darkness, I guess.” He shrugs. “Now get in the car, bitch.”
“Drew.” I repeat the name. “Haven’t seen him in years, he still out partying or—“ I pause. “—why are you laughing?”
Zane unlocks his black Escalade. “Do you even watch the news? I’m concerned you know nothing of pop culture.”
I make a face. “Sorry was busy trying to graduate and going through absolute hell my senior year, my TikTok game wasn’t as strong as it should have been.”
“I remember being eighteen once.”
“Was that before or after you lost your virginity and lied about being a player to the world?” That earns me a punch to the arm.
I rub it.
The guy can hit.
Music blasts, unfamiliar music, as he drives us into town. It’s early, so it’s still quiet as he pulls next to one of my favorite coffee shops. I follow him in and it’s weird, nobody seems phased that he’s a Grammy award-winning artist or that he’s literally so famous that even famous people get nervous around him.
He’s up there with Harry Styles when it comes to his sold-out concerts solo, but when he’s on tour with AD2 and Adrenaline, security is wild and the internet doesn’t know how to internet.
The coffee shop is relatively empty, Bronte who’s married to Drew, the guy we’re about to see, waves from the counter. “The usual?”
Zane nods. “Yeah, and get this guy some caffeine too, but put it in a kid cup and be sure to add some whipped cream,” He glances over his shoulder at me. “Did you want the tootsie roll too, or are you going to pass?”
I flip him off.
He turns back to Bronte. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”
She smiles at me, then tilts her head. “You okay?”
“Swell.” I choke it out and suddenly feel like crying like a little bitch, maybe I will take that tootsie roll, maybe it will occupy my throat enough to keep the thick need to cry at bay.
I walk around the counter and stare at the wall of books, half of them romance, what a joke. I don’t know how long I stand there but it’s long enough for Zane to tap me on the shoulder, hand me my coffee—it is in fact in a plastic kid’s cup with whipped cream—and then shove me toward the back door.
I frown. “Aren’t you recording?”
