Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Quinn, come on. She likes you. It’s obvious to everyone except you.” Keane runs his hand over his beanie, glancing over his shoulder at the girls before turning back to me. “Look, just be careful. It’s not just a broken heart at stake. It’s livelihoods as well if something happens and it goes south.”
His words give me pause. This entire time I’ve seen Justine as a colleague, a friend. Over the past few months, she’s been my sounding board for new work, and always there whenever I need . . .
Fuck.
Keane chuckles, and it’s like everything falls into place. Whatever is happening between Justine and me feels fragile, tentative, like a new melody still finding its rhythm. I’m not ready to name it yet, but I can’t deny it’s there. For the rest of the tour, I walk around in some kind of daze, not paying attention to the various marine animals, and more thinking about every single interaction I’ve had with Justine lately.
After an extensive tour of the aquarium, we have dinner at a seafood restaurant near the harbor, sharing stories and laughing over Chandler’s impression of the sea lions. Dana suggests checking out a local music venue after dinner, but Keane declines, citing a good night’s sleep and someone’s test tomorrow with her online tutor.
“You guys go ahead,” he says. “We’ll head back to the hotel.”
Dana looks disappointed but doesn’t argue.
“Actually, I’m pretty wiped out,” I say. “I’m calling it a night?”
Dana studies us suspiciously. “Seriously? It’s only eight o’clock.”
“Long day of walking and we have a show tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I’m exhausted.” Justine yawns and stretches her arms.
“Fine,” Dana sighs. “I’ll find Hendrix and Ajay. They’re always up for trouble.” She’s not wrong, except it’s usually Hendrix getting Ajay into trouble.
Back at the hotel, Keane and Chandler decide to head for ice cream, leaving Justine and me alone, In the elevator, she leans against the wall, watching the floor numbers illuminate one by one.
“You didn’t have to cut your night short because of me,” I tell her.
“I didn’t,” she replies, glancing up at me. “I just wanted . . .”
The elevator doors open on our floor, interrupting whatever she was about to say. We walk down the hallway in comfortable silence, stopping outside her room.
“Thank you for today,” I say, meaning it more than she knows. “I needed this.”
“Me too.”
We stand there, neither moving to leave. Justine fidgets with her key card, turning it over in her fingers.
“I’d invite you in, but the girls are probably in there and . . .”
“It’s okay, I’m gonna go catch up on the sleep someone roused me from earlier.” I wink, letting her know it’s all good.
“I had fun today,” she says, her voice soft in the hallway.
“Me too. You’re a pretty great tour guide.”
“I have hidden talents.”
“Not so hidden anymore.”
She smiles, removes her beanie and works her fingers through her hair. “I like this version of you. Relaxed. Happy.”
“I am happy,” I realize, saying it aloud for the first time in months. “I didn’t think I would be again, not so soon.”
“Happiness isn’t linear,” she says. “It comes and goes, sometimes when you least expect it.”
“Pretty wise for someone your age.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not that much younger than you.”
“A decade isn’t nothing.”
“Nine years,” she corrects. “And age is just a number.”
“Is that what you tell yourself when you hang out with this old man?”
Justine laughs, then grows serious. “I’ve never thought of you that way. As old, I mean.”
“No?”
“No.” She meets my gaze directly. “I think of you as Quinn. Just Quinn.”
The air between us charges with unspoken words. I notice how close we’ve drifted, the distance between us now halved. Her hand still fiddles with her keycard and without thinking, I reach for it and study the intricate henna design.
“Does it hurt?” I ask, voice low.
She shakes her head. “It just feels . . . warm.”
“These words,” I murmur. “I think I wrote them about you.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “You did?”
I nod, unable to deny it any longer, even to myself. “At some point, when I closed my eyes, I didn’t see . . .” I can’t bring myself to say Nola. It’s like my mind has shut that chapter of my life and sealed it tightly.
Justine leans closer, her hand turning to catch mine. Our fingers intertwine, the henna pressing between our palms like a secret we’re both keeping.
“Quinn,” she whispers, and my name has never sounded so right.
I lean forward, drawn by something I can’t fight anymore. Her eyes flutter closed, and I can feel her breath on my lips.
The sound of Justine’s name pulls us apart. I turn to see Wynonna and Priscilla coming down the hall, arms full of bags.
“Justine!” Wynonna says as she gets closer. “I’ve been texting you all day. Where have you been? Hey Quinn.”