Let's Tango

3 | A U R O R A

The relief through my arms is instant as I slide the two overstuffed containers of leftover lasagna into the fridge at Quinn's apartment. Those suckers are heavy.

"You sure you don't want to go out to a bar tonight instead?" Quinn asks as he hands me the green beans and garlic bread to put away as well.

With narrowed eyes, I look back over my shoulder at him. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Quince?"

He huffs a little chuckle before running his hand through his hair. "If I was, I wouldn't have suggested you come over in the first place."

I turn to the island where he had set down our dessert: McDonald's McFlurries. I would kill someone for the Oreo. Don't test me.

"True... You were the one who brought up Netflix and Chill."

He clicks his tongue while snatching the M&M one from my other hand. "I merely asked if you had plans after dinner or if you wanted to come over and watch something, bitch. I even offered to stop and get you your favorite treat, but screw me for trying to be nice after I know you didn't have the best day."

I turn to find him a foot away with a pout playing on his lips.

"Are you really trying to guilt trip me?"

"Is it working?"

"To be determined. You are aware that you could just do nice things without fishing for gratification, right?"

"You could just learn to say thank you, too."

Alright, he wins this round. I give into the smile teasing the corners of my mouth as I stretch up on my tippy toes. Then I yank him down by his collar and plant a light kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

"Mmmhm, see was that so hard? You're lucky I love you."

Quickly turning away before my grin betrays me, I casually flip him off over my shoulder as I make my way to the couch.

I sink into the brown leather cushions and tuck my feet up under me. Normally I'd associate leather couches as being cold and hard, but his is very much the opposite; It's surprisingly plush and velvety. His whole place is cozy and pleasantly masculine—and much neater than mine. Whereas Prisha and my stuff is an eclectic mishmash that gets tossed everywhere, his is all tucked away where it belongs. Even the bookcase on the wall, while packed top to bottom, somehow remains organized (excluding the few books that are purposefully turned spine in. I know from my snooping that he likes his romances spicy). But much like his couch, instead of everything seeming too structured, it all feels very warm and welcoming.

Before I get too comfortable to move (because, let's face it, I'm nearly in a food coma) I undo the top button of my jeans, then untuck my t-shirt and reach up the back to undo my bra hooks. Fishing the straps over my arms proves a challenge, but it's that much more satisfying when I slide it out and drop it on the floor.

The whole time Quinn barely bats an eye at my behavior. It's pretty commonplace at this point. It's not until he's sunk down next to me, long legs up on the coffee table, that he glares down at my lacy lingerie sprawled gracelessly below me.

Achieving maximum-level-comfort, I take a giant spoonful of Oreo heaven and shovel it into my mouth with a groan.

He shifts next to me, reaching for the remote. "You better not leave that on the floor this time," he comments as the tv flicks on.

"Yessir," I manage between scoops.

He peers over at me, brown eyes catching the movement as I lick some stray ice cream from my lip. "Uh-huh, that's what you said the last few times too." He goes back to scrolling for a few quiet seconds before suddenly slapping it down on his knee. "Did I tell you that the last time I was talking to this very nice woman, I finally brought her over and she fucking slapped me and bolted? Now granted, I tried to warn her—it's not like I hadn't talked about you—but I blame you and your littered bras all over my goddamn apartment." The remote is back in his hand and waved all over the general vicinity. "She didn't even stay long enough to find your spare clothes drawer... let alone your hairbrush and toothbrush on my bathroom counter, or your backup tampons in the cabinet, or your long-ass hair monsters on my shower wall. You make it really hard for me to get laid."