Bad Luck (quinn hughes x oc)

XI.

𝙂𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙖

Quinn led Georgia several blocks to a little diner between two office buildings. Through the window, Georgia could see the few patrons it entertained: an older man who sipped coffee at the counter, a middle-aged couple and their three children, and then a young woman sitting alone, nose buried in a book. The whole place could have sat thirty people, but Georgia and Quinn's entrance brought the grand total up to nine. It was, Georgia reasoned, nearly ten p.m. on a Sunday evening.

When Quinn held open the door for her, a little bell dinged above Georgia's head, drawing the attention of the diner's lone waitress. She had been speaking quietly with a smile to the old man drinking coffee, and when she noticed Quinn and Georgia, she offered a little wave.

"Sit anywhere you'd like!" she hollered over to them. "I'll be right over."

"No rush," Quinn replied, finally releasing Georgia's hand and moving his touch instead to the small of her back. They sat down in the second booth from the door, where Quinn removed his hat and sighed. "Only place around that's open at any hour," he remarked. "My teammates and I come here a lot after nights out and stuff."

Georgia smiled, her hands tucked in her lap so that Quinn wouldn't notice them trembling. Her brain was still struggling to process what was happening-that she was truly getting food at a diner with one of Vancouver's biggest stars. Fortunately, no one in the diner appeared to pay them any special attention.

The waitress approached their table with two menus in hand. As she set them down, she inquired, "Anything to drink?"

Georgia, too nervous to get anything else, replied quietly, "A water would be wonderful, please." Her voice was soft and shaky, but she couldn't manage more. She was already running through all of the uncertainties in her head: who was going to pay? should she offer? how much food is appropriate to order if you might not be paying? is it weird to order water? should she have gotten a beer? is that a weird thing to do at ten on a Sunday night at a diner date with Quinn Hughes?

By the time Georgia managed to escape her thoughts, Quinn had already ordered a drink, and the waitress was gone. Shit-Georgia hadn't even heard what he'd ordered. If he got something other than water, then he had to be paying for his own stuff at least, right?

"You all right, G?" Quinn piped up, and Georgia snapped to attention.

She hurried, "Oh, yeah, totally," and scrambled to pick up the menu in front of her. She didn't miss it when the smallest hint of a smile crept across Quinn's lips. It sent a rush of heat into her cheeks, so she lifted the menu a little higher in the hopes it might conceal her nerves. "What's good?" she murmured, lowering the menu again.

Quinn's eyes weren't on his own menu-they were on her. He was looking at her with the same admiration, the same enthrallment, that he had afforded her the very first day they met. And every day since then, for that matter. "Len makes a pretty mean burger," he remarked after a moment.

"Len?" Georgia echoed.

Quinn nodded and then cocked his head over towards the kitchen window. "The cook," he replied. "Nicest guy in the world."

"Wow," Georgia marveled as she set down her menu. "You really do come here a lot." She teased, "Lot of late nights on the town, apparently?"

Quinn chuckled, letting his gaze fall onto the table. "Not so much during the season," he admitted, "and I'm honestly only here for like half the offseason."

"Where do you go for the other half?" Georgia inquired, though the moment she asked it, she began to worry if it was too invasive. Hell, she was still practically a stranger to Quinn, and here she was asking about his personal life? Was that a normal thing to do? Georgia had no idea.

Quinn, though, apparently took no offense. He explained, "My family lives in the U.S., so I'm always with them-either in Florida or Michigan."

It was then that the waitress returned to the table with their drinks. Quinn, too, had gotten a water, which provided Georgia with no additional clues as to who the hell was supposed to pay for their food. She let him order first: sure enough, he got a burger, and then he looked to Georgia.

"Um-I'll get the same," she stammered, already passing her menu back to the waitress.

When the woman was gone, Quinn turned back to Georgia and asked, "What about you? Have you always lived in Vancouver?"

Georgia nodded as she sipped from her water. "I was born in Kelowna," she told him, "but we moved here before I even turned one, so it's always been my home. Jensen-my brother-remembers Kelowna better than I do." She shrugged, and Quinn smiled-and it almost seemed to Georgia like he really cared. Like he hung on every word that she spoke.

It should have comforted Georgia, but instead it sent a wave of anxiety through her veins. Surely, she was in over her head. There had to be some explanation for Quinn's attention. She couldn't bring herself to believe it was because he might actually like her.

But when Quinn spoke again, the sweetness of his voice nearly melted all of Georgia's uncertainty. "Is Jensen your only sibling?" he asked.

"Yes," Georgia sighed, "but being eight years apart, it sometimes felt like I didn't have any siblings at all." Again, she offered a shrug before adding, "You have the two brothers, right?"

"I do," Quinn chuckled, shaking his head. "We're kind of a package deal in people's heads, I think."

It made Georgia laugh. "The Hughes brothers does sort of have a ring," she confessed.

"We have a home game against Jack's team in a couple weeks," Quinn remarked. "I'll introduce you."

Georgia hoped her expression didn't give away her shock. A couple weeks? Quinn was thinking about them still seeing one another in a couple weeks? The notion made Georgia's body feel all warm and fuzzy. She managed to Quinn, "I can't wait."

His shoulders seemed to relax a little in relief, almost like he'd feared a different reaction. And then he smiled, glancing away from Georgia as his cheeks flushed with color.

Georgia never wanted the night to end.