make you miss me • q. hughes

36

"Mom!" I shout into the house. "Why is it freezing in here?!"

In proper Schuyler fashion, she shouts right back. "Because your dad insists on leaving the back door open instead of waiting for the dogs!"

She's in the kitchen. I kick off my boots so I don't get yelled at for tracking snow and dirt in. Though I'm sure Finch is going to come inside from practicing and do exactly that anyways soon enough. But I can get some brownie points still. I practically skip at the thought as I make my way through the living room and the dining room and into the kitchen.

"Hi, Mom," I say.

She nods to the stools at the island and I take one immediately. It was not a request. "You and I need to talk."

"About?" I reach for a piece of bread that's more than likely for the soup she's stirring just to get smacked away by the woman who birthed me.

She scoffs. "About? I'll tell you what about. You can only go on so many dates with a guy before it gets ridiculous he's not your boyfriend."

"We've been on one official date!"

"Was it bad? Is that what's going on?"

"It wasn't bad in the slightest," I say. Then turn around in my seat to lean down and pet our Pyrenees, Kipper. Totally not to hide the massive smile on my face. "It was the best date I've ever been on."

"You're a stubborn little ass—"

The front door opens and slams closed. Finchy would be coming in through the back door. Which means the footsteps are—

Val storms in. Her nickname may be Tiny but by god, she's terrifying. I sit up straight because I'm excited to see my best friend. Apparently, she doesn't share that feeling. The sound of her hand smacking me across the face reverberates throughout the room. Or it's only in my head.

Fuck, that shit hurt.

She doesn't even give me a moment of peace to rub the pain out of my cheek. Tiny simply points a finger at me almost accusingly. "You're a dick."

"Why?"

"Well, quite honestly, you've been a dick since I met you." I swear Mom hums out some agreement to Tiny's words. "This game you're playing is a whole new level of dickery."

"That's not a word," I say.

"Yeah? Oh, yeah? You have an issue with me using fake words? I can use no words again."

To my surprise, Mom's the one to stop her. "Valentine, use words. Finch doesn't have any bruises on his face and I want one year of Christmas photos with my kids bruiseless. For once."

"You're lucky, Scout Schuyler," Val says. I don't feel very lucky.

"Did you drive all the way out here to assault me?"

"You're a dick!"

I huff out a sigh. "God forbid women have a little tiny bit of fun these days. Fuck."

"You can have fun when I find it fun," she says.

"Only then? What if I'm having the time of my life and you have the flu? What then, dick?"

"I'm not the dick, you're the dick."

"So you're the balls?"

"Can you two act like young ladies and not guys in the locker room?" Mom requests.

I consider the request. Turn it over and over and over. I shrug and tell her, "Maybe one day. For now, I really need to know if me being the dick makes her the balls."

"Won't label a relationship yet you do fine labeling yourself as male genitalia?" Mom scoffs. "No clue how you're my kid."

"So there's for sure a relationship to be labeled?" Val asks.

I glare at her. "No."

"Oh my god! You liar. I should slap you again." Mom must send her a glare too because she clasps her hands behind her back and nods once. "I won't though. Know that I want to."

"Thank you," Mom says.

"Nobody's entitled to any information about me or my love life," I say.

Tiny's entire face shifts into being so appalled, she could probably copyright it. "Except when the love life part could very well lead to the implosion of a friend group."

"How on earth—"

"Hello? Any ecosystem with you and Quinn is very delicate and if you were to be dating someone, it would be destroyed." She puts a finger up and stops me in my argument. "I will beat the shit out of you."

"People think I'm the mean one," I mumble.

Mom laughs. "She's definitely more open and loving than you."

I spin around immediately. "What's that mean?"

"That means you are closed and unwilling to let it be known when you want something," Mom says with her Mom look. "You don't want to admit to everyone you want him. Maybe I let you be too competitive and now you're always trying to keep your cards close. Maybe you're just an idiot."

"Hey!"

"The woman has a point," Tiny says.

"Hey!" I repeat. "Best friends aren't supposed to side with the mother."

Tiny takes the stool next to me. "She's right. Am I supposed to lie?"

"Yes."

"In the way you've been lying to me?"

"I'm not lying," I state. "I'm simply not telling you every last detail. At least I'm letting you know there is a guy."

"Do you know, Mom?" Tiny asks. She reaches for a piece of bread and is smacked away too. Ha. No special treatment.

"Yeah, I know who she's seeing," Mom says.

I wince. "Seeing?"

"What else I can call it, Jean Louise?"

"We're y'know..." What can you call me and Quinn? "We hang out. We've been on a date."

Tiny gasps. "The flowers weren't even for a date?"

"We went out to dinner with some guys he works with." I bite back a laugh at that one. It always sounds ridiculous to talk about NHL teammates as if they're regular colleagues.

"Huh," she says.

Mom rolls her eyes. "Me and your dad went on a date the second day we knew each other and were official the day after that."

"You and Dad nearly killed each other the first day you met," I remind her. It's a struggle to ignore the massive grin on Tiny's face, no doubt thinking about me and Quinn.

"We knew a good thing when it first showed up. We weren't idiots like you."

"Where'd that come from then? Figured it was gene—" I cut myself off. If looks could kill, I'd be dead and buried three times over.

But not from Tiny. She's looking at me like she looks at a new camera she wants. A soft smile that is almost better than her widest, purest grin. She shrugs. "I don't actually care who you're sneaking around with. As long as he's nice to you."

"Oh, he's very nice to me," I say, earning myself two groans of annoyance. All I can do is laugh. "Okay, okay. Seriously, he's a good guy to be around."

"Are you being nice?" Mom asks.

"Please. Whoever it is—" Tiny stops and coughs out Quinn's full-ass government name. "—probably likes her because she's mean. Being too nice would probably scare him off."

"I'm not that mean," I argue.

Val puts a hand on my shoulder in a sarcastic comfort. "Sorry, you're right, babe. Stubborn is what I meant."

"I'm not—" It hits me that arguing will prove her point so I shrug. "He likes it. Trust me. I just got to figure out what I want to do about it."