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I’m hobbling behind Quinn, trying not to expose how much pain I’m currently in.Quinn stops and casts a grin over his shoulder as he waits for me to catch up.
I’m a few feet away when he slips our backpacks off his shoulder, dumping them onto the grass. “Jump on.”
“Excuse me?”
“Jump on,” he repeats. “I’ll piggyback you.”
Surely, he’s joking.
“C’mon, Red,” he persists, wiggling his shoulder at me, trying to tempt me.
My unhappy feet celebrate the possibility of not having to take another step.“Okay, but only for a bit,” I say, collecting our bags and slipping them onto my shoulder.
I hesitantly approach Quinn because I don’t know how to climb up his colossal back without a ladder.
“Just jump on like you would a horse.” He laughs, sensing my dilemma.
“I’ve never ridden a horse.”
“Well, now’s your chance,” Quinn says, shooting me a quick wink over his shoulder.
He crouches down low, allowing me to climb on without falling flat on my face. I stand on my tippy-toes and reach up, placing my hands around his thick shoulders. As I boost myself up, I yelp because suddenly Quinn grabs behind my knees and shuffles me up his body so he has a firm grip around my legs. Once he’s got a tight hold around me, he slowly stands. I firmly latch on, clutching his neck with a death grip, afraid I’m about to fall.
“Don’t drop me,” I squeak. “It’s a long way down.”
“I’ll try, but if you keep choking me, I can’t guarantee I’ll get very far without passing out.”
“Oh shit! Sorry!” I loosen my grip on his neck while he chuckles.
“Thank you,” I whisper, his hair tickling my cheeks as I lean forward against him.
“Thank you?”
“Yeah, thank you. For this. For everything. There isn’t anyone else I would rather be a fugitive with,” I say, trying to poke fun at our situation without getting too heavy.
Quinn takes a breath before replying, “Ditto, Red. Life’s what you make of it. And you make it unforgettable.”
I blush at his admission and don’t know how to respond, so I don’t. I simply enjoy the ambience of the magical buildings and the divine-smelling foods while perched on the back of someone who changes everything.
After endless minutes of me demanding Quinn to put me down, which, of course, falls on deaf ears, we roll into the French Quarter.
And I thought the scenery was amazing twenty minutes ago.
I’ve heard stories about this place, but seeing it before me is beyond description. The old, historic feel mixed with a slight modern touch makes me feel like I’m in another world. The narrow streets are filled with people with no real hurry to their steps. Tourists and locals alike seem to want to absorb this soulful beauty for as long as possible.
I continue gawking, and I have the best seat in the house, perched on Quinn’s back.
“Put me down.” I giggle when Quinn stops in front of a street band consisting of five members and a dog.
He chuckles and bends, setting me to my feet, which wobble slightly.Reaching forward quickly, Quinn places his hand around my middle to steady me, and the response is natural to us both. It’s scary how comfortable we’re becoming with one another.
We stand and watch the musicians for a few minutes before Quinn throws a ten-dollar bill into their open guitar case and takes my hand, leading me down the busy street.
I take in the brilliance before me, and I’ve decided I love New Orleans. From the romantic, long-standing architecture to the laid-back nature of its inhabitants, it feels like magic exists here.
“You like it here?” Quinn says, catching me admiring a local French-inspired bakery, which smells divine.
I nod, unable to wipe the smile off my face. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.”
