“Quinnlette, you decent? You have company!” Carter, my older brother who is home this weekend from Stanford yells through my closed bedroom door.
My eyes reject fully opening as I try to guess the approximate time by the amount of blinding sunlight that fills the room.
“Company?” I croak out.
The door flies open in response. I sit up and pull my knees to my chest, waiting for an explanation.
“Nice hair, lazy ass. Get up.” Carter laughs.
I purse my lips into a pout and run my palm against my head, knowing that my baby fine flyaway hair have made their usual aura around my face.
“Who’s here?”
“Some guy. Ben?”
That gets my attention. I rush across my room to my closet and pull out the first thing that my fingers physically touch. A lightweight, eyelet sundress that I don’t think I’ve ever worn. It screams wholesomeness—something that I am not. Whatever, it’ll work.
“Did he say what he wants?” I ask. My pulse quickens just thinking about Ben. Downstairs. Waiting for me.
“He probably wants to hang out, asstard,” Carter says. “Hey, he seems cool.”
“Yeah, he’s great.”
“Great.” Carter bats his eyelashes, mocking me. “I hope it stays that way, because I really don’t want to have to pull the guns out.” He says making an exaggerated arm muscle flex as he leaves the room so that I can change.
Ben’s here. In my kitchen. He’s shooting the shit with Carter. Talking about some App or something, but the point is, he is right HERE. Seeing him, leaning casually against the counter. The way that he talks with his hands, and his easy smile both startle and captivate me. I linger in the doorway watching Ben and my brother, clutching my stomach trying to pinpoint exactly what feeling is surging through me when I’m spotted.
“Hey, Quinn,” Ben says. He extends his hand to Carter, who shakes it and then leaves Ben and I alone together. “Sorry for waking you.”
“Oh no, it’s fine, I was already up.” I lie. “So, what’s going on?”
He smiles that perfect boy-next-door-dimplicious grin as he casually runs his hand over the smooth surface of the counter top. I catch myself wondering what it would feel like to have his hands on my skin. Jesus, Quinn, a little early for that, I scold myself.
“So, I heard that they have this food festival in Savannah this weekend-”
“Savannah?” I ask.
“Yeah, I know it’s kind of a long drive, but you were saying how much you love to cook and stuff. I thought it might be fun.”
“Just you and me?” My heart goes tachycardic.
“Would that be okay? It’s just a day trip. I mean I know we just met yesterday, so, it’s not like creepy or anything?” His confident grin falters for a quick second, long enough for me to snap out of my idiotic stupor.
“That sounds awesome.” I nod. “Let me just grab my bag.”
He lets out a relieved sigh and smiles. I fight the urge to stand on my tip toes to reach his lips. Because my guess is that cramming my tongue down his throat right now, would be creepy.
“Sure,” he says. He fumbles with his keys, looking pleased and sweet, and delectable. “Are you cool with me driving?”
I nod.
YOU ARE READING
Grounding Quinn
Teen Fiction"Grounding Quinn sucked me in from the first page. I couldn't get enough of the story and characters. Simply beautiful." NYT bestselling author, Nicole Williams Eighteen-year-old Quinn MacPherson's biggest fear has always been turning out like her...
