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SUNDAY

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SUNDAY

"Quinn, love? You decent?" My mom calls from outside my bedroom door. I finish rolling on my socks and get up to open the door

"What's wrong?" I ask, taking notice of the serious look on her face. She places a pile of clean clothes on my dresser and sits on my bed, beckoning me over.

"What happened yesterday?" She asks with worry evident on her face. I was afraid she'd bring it up, I'd hoped she wouldn't notice.

"I'm fine, Mom. It was just a slip-up."

"You know you can talk to me, right?" She says, taking my hand in hers.

I hated keeping stuff from my Mom but I also didn't want to stress her out. "I had a small panic attack. But I'm okay, I promise. Madeline helped me."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." I smile reassuringly and she places a hand on my cheek.

"Okay. So, Madeline?" She grins, a relief from her previous serious expression but not the topic I wanted.

"No."

"Come on, baby. Speak to me. Please?"

I soften at the frown on her lips and roll my eyes. "I asked her out yesterday."

"Oh, you did? I'm so proud of you!" She gasps, kissing my forehead and hugging me tight like I just won the Olympics. Can't say it didn't feel like it though. "No babies please. I'm too young to be a grandmother."

"Mom, please." I groan.

"Where are you taking her? Somewhere nice?"

"I don't know yet." I didn't. I'd been considering it all night.

"Well make sure you treat her right, okay?"

"I will, Mom."

Once she finally leaves, my phone flashes with new messages.

1 new message from Shortcake

Had I nicknamed her that purely because I like the way she gets annoyed and flustered over it? No. I had other reasons too. Reasons I wasn't ready to name.

Hey, I know it's probably not your thing but my Mom brought me two tickets to an author meet at Piccadilly and I was wondering if you wanted to come with? Don't worry I'd buy you tea at the cafe after for putting you through the torture.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥Where stories live. Discover now