Heat prickles at the back of my eyes, my emotional well tapped out. A finger notches under my chin, and I have to blink to keep the frustrated tears at bay.
“It was one thing when I had a crush on you and you were just this guy I knew and sometimes hung out with because he was friends with my friends.” I blow out a breath, tipping my head back, glancing toward the ceiling. “I would get these little glimpses into your personality whenever you would forget to be wary of the rest of us. Seeing the way you would interact with Kay, Em, and G showed me this whole side of you that you keep hidden beneath your hot shy-nerd exterior.”
The jerk reaches up to adjust his glasses before daring to ask, “You think I’m hot?”
“Yeah.” My mouth presses into a flat line, and I meet his gaze head-on. “Except for when you’re refusing to believe me when I tell you how I feel about you. Yeah, I think you’re hot.”
There are maybe three inches of space between us, but I shuffle closer, closing the tiny gap.
Grabbing the front of his shirt, I twist the material and tug until he’s forced to crane his neck.
“I. Like. You.”
Without giving him the chance to chime in with another stupid Yeah, like a friend comment, I lift up on my toes, using my grip on his shirt to bring us together until my lips brush his.
“Yo te quiero.”
I swear I hear him swallow.
“I don’t know how many different languages I have to say it in, but it translates to the same thing in all of them.”
“You like me?”
I roll my eyes but end up answering with a nod anyway.
Here we are, at the same standstill we found ourselves at last night. This is why I need space. I can’t keep putting myself out there if he’s going to continue to stubbornly play dumb in response to the words I’m saying. My heart can’t take it anymore. I’ve reached my limit.
I’ve started to move away, to finally put that distance between us, then his words freeze me in place.
“I like you too.”
#CHAPTER27
* * *
There’s the distinct possibility I’m in the midst of a sleep-deprivation hallucination. The mental fatigue I feel rivals that of any finals week, except instead of spreading out the topics, I crammed them all into one night.
Obsessing over the fact that I kissed Quinn.
Remembering the shocked disbelief of the college co-eds who found us tucked in the corner near the bathrooms.
Grady coming to look for Quinn because she had been gone for so long.
Then, what kept me awake and unable to do anything but pace around the apartment like I was casing the joint: wondering and imagining all the things Quinn could be doing with Grady that would keep her out all night.
Sure, now I realize Quinn may have left with Grady, but she wasn’t with him. Instead, she slept at Kay’s. Maybe if I hadn’t been avoiding her, I would have known that was her plan.
Or…who knows? Maybe that wasn’t her original plan, but I made her feel forced into running.
And why would she assume that I…what? Spent the night with Kristy?
Me going home with Kristy is as unlikely as Quinn telling me she likes me, yet here we are: Quinn once again standing toe to toe with me, her mouth skimming mine with every unbelievable but no less amazing word she utters.
You know what?
I just don’t care anymore.
“I like you too.”
Holy shit. Did I just admit that?
I tense, waiting for her to laugh in my face. As if me returning the words will suddenly make her realize she didn’t mean them when she said them herself.
Except…she doesn’t.
There’s no laughter. She’s not pulling away.
Instead, she sucks in a breath, her dark eyes going wide.
Then…the tip of her tongue skims my lips when she licks hers, and I’m done.
No more teasing.
Real or not, I’m shutting my brain off for once and letting instinct take over.
Using my teeth, I latch on to Quinn’s lower lip, biting down and sucking it into my mouth, swallowing down the ball-tingling whimper she expels as I seal our mouths together properly. Her nails scratch my chest as her hold on my shirt turns strangling. I don’t care. The pain barely registers.
Moving my mouth over hers, I hook an arm around her middle until it’s impossible to distinguish my body from hers. Quinn’s hands slide up my chest, her arms lopping around my neck, her fingers driving into my hair.
I return the favor, fisting her long ponytail, using it as leverage as I move along her jaw, then down the line of her neck. Her pulse flutters against my lips, a hint of saltiness lingering on her skin.
Bringing my mouth back to Quinn’s, I lick at the seam of her lips, loving the way she automatically opens for me, just like she did last night.
Her hold on me turns frantic, an edge of pain creeping into her grip. She pulls me closer, kissing me harder, as if stopping will only end with me rejecting her again.
I won’t. I’m done with that.
We may not make sense together, but I’m going to enjoy it, going to enjoy this for as long as possible.
I’ll find a way to mitigate the consequences of when this inevitably ends.
I couldn’t tell you how long Quinn and I kissed before she put a stop to it, claiming she needed to shower off all the grossness (her word, not mine) from The Barracks.
I used the reprieve to get in a shower of my own. I needed the space to think about the fact that I admitted to liking her, that I opened myself up to that kind of rejection. Yes, I know she told me—multiple times—that she liked me first, but there’s still this underlying part of me that has trouble accepting it past face value. I also wanted to wash off my sleepless night and take care of myself before joining Quinn on the couch like we agreed.
Thank god I did too.
Because as soon as Quinn emerged from her bedroom, dressed in a pair of tiny plaid sleep shorts and this cross-strapped sports bra thing, my dick took notice. If I hadn’t just made myself come minutes before, it would have been glaringly obvious the effect she has on me.
I had a momentary flash of panic when she said she wanted to cuddle, but then she tossed this oversized fuzzy pillow of hers in the corner of the sectional and beckoned for me to be the one to lie on her.
I tried to argue, but surprise, surprise, she wasn’t having it. She only propped her hand on her hip and cursed—in Spanish, of course—about how I looked like I was ready to keel over. Granted, I didn’t know what she said to me until she translated, but in the month where the majority of the time it’s just been the two of us living here, she’s figured out I’m a sucker for when she goes bilingual on me.
I held back a bit longer, but when she smacked the cushions in front of her, inviting me toward her, I found my feet moving of their own accord.
She smirked with this half-smug tilt to her lips until I lifted one of her legs and sat down with it draped over my lap instead. I got one of those challengingly annoyed narrowing of her eyes, but she let it go, scrolling through Hulu until she found the show Bones.
When I asked why she was watching something she had clearly watched before, given the complete green status bars showing on all the episodes, she shushed me. Like full out, finger covering her still slightly swollen lips shushed me.