In Every Universe | Quinn Hughes

11 | Lily

I WAITED PATIENTLY FOR QUINN TO GET CHANGED, leaning against his excessively large pick up truck causally with my arms crossed over my chest to keep away the cold air that nipped at any part of my skin that was exposed. The longer I waited, the dumber I felt, my own mind reeling as I thought of all the ways I could subtly get Quinn back to his bedroom without looking desperate.

It wasn't that I was desperate, or anything, I just didn't know any other way to get him out of my head. It was like I was a broken record, playing the same shit over and over all day. His pretty eyes, lashes fluttering down to gaze at me, his lips pulled into a half smirk that effortlessly swept me off my feet and then his breathless whisper husking a gentle do you want my fingers buried in you or not, sweetheart?

I felt like I was gasping for air, like my whole world has just been thrown off its axis and I was falling, falling, falling—right into Quinn Hughes and his stupidly pretty smile.

It takes Quinn a full ten more minutes before he's emerging from the double doors of the rink, hockey bag sling over his shoulder and two hockey sticks in his left hand, his right swinging by his thigh casually. I don't know why, but the sight of him in the clothes that I'd picked out makes my stomach swarm with butterflies to the point where I have to look away.

His outfit was nothing special, just a basic pair of grey sweats with a black hoodie and a cap. Somehow, though, he made it look like he was ready for a sports model shoot.

He's with a few other boys I recognise, and some that I don't, the smile spread over his lips contagious as he barks out a laugh along to a joke that was said by Alex.

When his eyes meet mine, I half expect him to plaster a frown on his lips, because that's what our interactions had been like up until this point. So, when he instead offers me a half smile, his lips pulling ever so slightly to the left and his eyes sparkling with an emotion I recognise as happiness, and maybe a bit of relief, it throws me off kilter.

I stand there like an idiot, dumbfounded at how one person can be so ridiculously pretty while also maybe still holding some resentment for the boy. He did break my heart, after all.

"You're still here?" He asked, cocking his head to the left.

I'm suddenly awkward, my eyes saucers as I shift from one foot to the other, trying to come up with a reason as to why I hung around.

Quinn chuckles, tossing his hockey bag and sticks in the back seat with a gentle grin. He steps in front of me, one hand on either of my shoulders. "I'm kidding, Lily, relax."

Then his fingers are in my hair, and he's ruffling it into oblivion.

"Quinn!" I shriek, swatting his hand away with a frown that possibly looks like more of a pout. "Hand off!"

"Or what?" He teases, now deciding to allow me to rest and instead opting for fussing over my hair and placing it back into a neat bundle over one of my shoulders.

Still pouting, I jut out my bottom lip further. "Fighting words, Hughes, fighting words."

He smirks. "Come at me, shortcake."

My pout turns into a glare. "Shortcake, really?"

He shrugs. "What? You're miniature, and you're sweet. It suits you."

"Never call me that again," I grumble, shaking my head.

"Yo, Quinn," Jack shouts, hanging out the window of his own car. "You coming or what?"

"For sure," he nods, tossing an arm around my shoulders as Jack smiles proudly, chatting to Trevor who occupies to passenger seat beside him. Quinn turns to me, smirking. "You wanna come to our post training tradition?"