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I know his words have nothing to do with what we’re doing on the dance floor but rather with where we’re headed.And I don’t question it.
I give him a small smile and rest my head against his chest, listening to the hypnotic voice of Jim Morrison.
But what’s more hypnotic is the steady rhythm of Quinn’s heart, which beats wildly and in sync with mine.
The following morning during breakfast, Quinn suggests we call Tabitha at thediner, but I’m not really listening to him.
All I can think about is the way we danced last night through the rest of Wild Child’s set. Being in his arms that way, snuggling into him as he sang softly into my ear, is something I will never forget.
Just thinking about it still gives me goose bumps.
Who knew I liked to dance. Although, I have a feeling I only really enjoyed it because I was wrapped up in Quinn’s embrace, feeling safe.
“Red? Do you want me to do it?” he asks as he stands outside the phone box I’m squished into.
Who knew pay phones still existed? But here we are.
“Huh? Do what?” I ask, totally oblivious to what’s going on.
“Call Tabitha,” he explains with a smirk.
“Oh right. No, I’m good.” I slip my hood over my head, wanting to hide from reality.
Slipping a few quarters in, I dial Bobby Joe’s and hold my breath. On the third ring, Tabitha answers, and hearing her voice immediately causes my eyes to water.
“Abi, it’s me,” I stupidly whisper, seeing as no one is around.
“Mia?” she gasps softly.
“Yeah, it’s me. How are you? How’s Tristan?”
“What happened to your phone? I’ve been trying to call you,” she whispers, and I can hear the background noise fade as she takes the cordless phone out back.
“We had to get rid of it. Someone claiming to be you sent us a message asking where we were.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“I know, Abi. How’s Tristan?” I ask again, looking at Quinn, who sucks on his lip ring, listening closely.
“He’s better. He’s still in the hospital. He’ll be there for another week for observation. Mia, the police have been around here, asking questions.”
“I’m sorry you’re involved in all my mess.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got my dad working on your case.”
“What?” I question loudly, which has Quinn stepping forward, raising an inquisitive brow.
But I shake my head at him and continue to listen to Abi.
“My dad isn’t like my mom. That’s why they divorced. He’s kind, unlike her, and I trust him. He’s a powerful man with connections, and he’s trying his best to pull some strings to get the police off your tail.”
“How’s he doing that?”
“Don’t be mad, but I told him about you, and he’s hired a private investigator to look into everything.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, looking at Quinn anxiously.
“It means he’s trying to clear your name and hold your dad and Phil accountable for their actions.”
