Quinn folds her hands over her heart, bunching her shoulders up in an Aw shucks manner. “Love you too, booboo.” She pops up to her feet and strides over to lay a smacking kiss on Emma’s lips.
“Where the hell is my kiss?” Trav flounces the open sides of his shirt out, flexing his muscles in a way that now has Em joining in on the Toss the Pillow at the Quarterback game.
Quinn skips over to Trav, who welcomes her with open arms, tugging her in close as she rises up on the tips of her bare toes, which I remember being painted a vibrant turquoise, and presses a kiss to the side of his cheek.
Her open affection is all part of her charm, and the instances when it is turned my way have become my guilty pleasure. I hoard them in my memory because I know nothing will ever actually come from them.
“You guys are in rare form this morning.” I finally finish making my way into the kitchen, resuming my java mission, searching the cabinet for my preferred mug.
A whiff of coconut floats my way, causing the blood to rush through my veins faster. “They’ve been like this all morning.” Quinn leans in close, the soft curve of her breast pressing tight to my side.
“Kay and Mase?” I step to the side and out of touching distance. Or so I thought.
“Pfft.” A bolt of electricity shoots down my spine as Quinn playfully bumps her shoulder into me. “Like you said…” She gives me a conspiratorial smile. “When are those two not sucking face?”
The grin she flashed me is gone as quickly as it appears, and for what feels like the first time since we’ve met, Quinn seems…nervous around me. She tucks her chin into her chest and starts to fidget with various items on the countertop.
Before I can ponder what she could be nervous about, her smile is back, and she turns toward me, long lashes fluttering—Is there something in her eye?—a mug, my mug, lifted toward me. “Coffee, Superman?”
I force myself to focus on the image of the original Game Boy printed on the side of the mug and not the woman who has it cradled between her hands, her body heat bleeding into me, that sweet scent of coconut filling my lungs as she angles in another inch closer.
It doesn’t work.
Fuck me, she’s pretty.
Face scrubbed clean and free of any makeup.
Hair tousled and messy from sleep.
An oversized T-shirt hanging down one arm and exposing the graceful slope of one bronzed shoulder.
Tiny sleep shorts that showcase toned legs better than even her cheer skirt does.
This is torture.
It’s like the universe is using this…using her to keep me in check, as if it knows I’m getting too comfortable in my new life.
Why? Because every day, I’m confronted with an image similar to this.
Quinn.
Here.
In my house.
Where I live.
With her.
Where she’s close enough to touch yet somehow remains just out of reach.
I don’t mean physically. I would only have to lift my arm an inch or two, and I could cup a hand over her hip. My fingers would slip under the hem of her shirt, making contact with skin I know from past experience when she’s been close is warm and soft.
Except…I can’t.
It’ll only be a tease.
I may be CK to my friends here, but I’ll always be Christopher Kent at my core.
“Aww, look who it is. Little Chrissy Kent, the nerd mascot.”
“I didn’t know the U of J had an adopt-a-nerd program.”
“Do you trade tutoring lessons for pity kisses? We all know that’s the only way you’d get anything from a cheerleader.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, that memory of how easily I was reminded of that fact when I went home for Christmas still all too fresh. And Quinn Thompson? She firmly and solidly belongs to the CK side of my life—aka the fantasy, not the reality.
I know this.
She knows this.
I mean…
Sure, she flirts with me. But…she flirts with everyone. It’s just a part of her personality. Remember how she acted with Emma and Trav minutes ago?
Shit.
The Game Boy image starts to blur in front of me, and that’s when it clicks.
Dammit. How could I forget again?
Quinn still has my phone.
And…
Fuck! Is that what she was nervous about?
I bet whatever tweaks she made didn’t change anything. I bet I still don’t have any matches for my profile and she’s not sure how to break the news to me.
I knew it.
Whatever. It’s fine. Quinn can keep my phone for all I care.
Plus…it serves to prove my point that she isn’t interested in me that way. If she were actually serious about wanting to be with me, she wouldn’t have offered to help tweak my dating profile, right?
Are you going to stop staring at the girl like a creeper and take the coffee from her? a voice whispers from the back of my brain.
Quinn’s dark eyes widen, and she sucks in a breath when I finally accept my mug from her after a muttered “Thanks.” I can’t tell if it’s from my fingers brushing hers when I do or if it’s because she notices that her nipples are poking my chest. She may not, but I sure as shit do.
It may be common for her to be all up close and personal with people, to casually touch them, but it’ll never be normal to me. The worst part? She is utterly oblivious to what her nearness does to me.
“But I meant Trav.” Quinn points at the flapping-the-ends-of-his-shirt-open-and-closed quarterback. “He’s spent the last ten minutes subjecting us to his vacation-looks fashion show.”
“And with every outfit he struts out in, his obnoxiousness grows,” Emma says around a yawn, coming over and reaching out grabby hands for her own coffee, laying her head on the island for the thirty seconds it takes Quinn to prepare it.
“You guys suck,” Trav complains, then he bellows for JT, who comes lumbering out of the one guest room we keep for people like him.
“You better get this rude wake-up call shit out of your system before Hawaii—” JT’s words break off with a yawn as he scratches at his bare stomach. “Otherwise, I’m asking the hotel staff to put me on the other side of the resort from the quarterbacks.”
“Quarterbacks? As in plural?” Kay asks as JT plops down beside her and Mason.
JT gives her a look. “You’re trying to tell me B wouldn’t be just as bad as this one?” He bounces a finger at Trav as he references Ben Turner, the quarterback of the Baltimore Crabs.
“Good point,” Kay concedes. She knows Ben better than any of us, seeing as he’s both teammates and best friends with her older brother Eric.
Massaging my temples, I pray for the Advil I took to kick in faster. I’m going to need all my faculties to deal with the way the four of them are now clamoring to talk over the other.
“You guys are going to be so bored without all of us here,” Emma muses, propping her chin on her fist.
I jolt, a sudden realization washing over me.
Em has family obligations to fulfill this summer.
Kay, Mason, and Trav are going on vacation with Kay’s family—JT included.
Grant is hopping a train for the Bronx tomorrow, his mama ready and waiting for both her boys to be home to spoil.
And Kevin and Alex are headed to DC to help Noah get settled in before he has to report to training camp.