Page 120

Jordan saw me come out of the bathroom.

The typing bubble appears almost immediately.

Quinn:

Oooops.

I bite back a laugh at her deadpan response.

Me:

But don't worry. Your dad didn’t see.

A longer pause this time.

Quinn:

We’re terrible at this.

I have to agree with her, but I also wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Me:

Seems so. But also: I don’t really care.

Yeah.

That's the problem.

21

QUINN

Secret Girlfriend

Wyatt’s Uber pulls up outside his building a little after eleven, headlights sweeping across the wet pavement. I’m already waiting by the entrance with Pickles, who spent the last four days at my place, because apparently I couldn’t stand the thought of waiting until Wyatt came upstairs to let us in.

The second the Uber door opens, Pickles loses his mind.

He yanks on the leash, tail going crazy as Wyatt climbs out with his duffel slung over one shoulder.

“Hey, buddy.” Wyatt barely gets the door shut before Pickles is all over him, jumping against his legs while Wyatt laughs and crouches down to scratch behind his ears. “Yeah, yeah. I missed you too.”

The Uber starts to pull away, and Wyatt straightens.

Then he looks at me.

The grin that spreads across his face does something stupid to my chest.

“Hey, Peachy.”

“Hey.”

I’ve waited four days. Pickles has had enough of a head start.

I step closer, grab the front of Wyatt’s jacket and pull him in. He laughs against my mouth before kissing me back, one hand immediately finding my waist.

A window rolls down again a few feet away.