Page 39 of Clinically Awkward

It was empty.

Damn.

By the time dessert arrived, I was actively planning my escape.

Not physically. I couldn’t just leave. But mentally, I was already gone. I was thinking about my apartment. My couch. My sweatpants. I was thinking about texting Quinton.

Which was weird. Why would I text Quinton?

We had just seen each other at work. We’d see each other again tomorrow.

There was no reason to text him.

Except. Except I wanted to. I wanted to know what he was doing. I wanted to know if he had gone to the Thai place anyway. I wanted to know if he was watching true crime documentaries alone in his apartment, eating takeout, and making sarcastic commentary to no one. I wanted to know if he was thinking about me.

Which was insane.

Completely insane.

I had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who was currently explaining his skincare routine in excruciating detail. “The key,” Colton said, “is exfoliation. Most guys don’t exfoliate. But I exfoliate twice a week. That’s why my skin looks so good.”

I nodded.

I wasn’t looking at his skin. I was looking at my phone. Specifically, I was looking at my text thread with Quinton.

Me: Thai food tonight?

Quinton: I’m craving pad see ew. We can share.

Me: You always say we can share, and then you eat all of yours and half of mine.

Quinton: That’s called efficient resource allocation.

Me: That’s called theft.

I smiled at my phone. Then I realized I was smiling at my phone while my boyfriend talked about skincare.

I put my phone down.

“You’re doing it again,” Colton said.

“Doing what?”

“Being distracted. Is something wrong?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Everything was wrong. I was sitting across from my boyfriend, bored out of my mind, wishing I were somewhere else. Wishing I were with someone else.

And that someone else was Quinton Wesley.

Quinton, who made me laugh. Quinton, who asked me questions and actually listened to the answers. Quinton, who made spreadsheets about tacos and remembered that I liked my coffee with oat milk, not regular milk.

Quinton, who I’d canceled on tonight.

For this.

Colton paid the bill, after making a point of telling me how expensive the restaurant was, then walked me to my car. “I had a great time tonight,” he said before leaning in to kiss me.