ASSHOLES | scream au

15. Quinn?

Sam was busy setting up the couch, fluffing pillows and shaking out a blanket for Mindy and Anika. In the kitchen, Tara and Chad moved fluidly around each other, clattering pans and swapping ingredients as they worked on dinner. The hum of conversation filled the room, broken up by bursts of laughter from Chad, who was telling Tara some exaggerated story she pretended not to find amusing. Across the room, by the open fridge, Amber and Annabeth were tucked close together, the chilled air washing over their faces as they rummaged for drinks.

Amber reached into the fridge, grabbing a couple of soda cans. The cool, metallic clink echoed between them as she handed one to Annabeth, her fingers brushing lightly against the other girl's. Annabeth gave her a curious glance, not moving away when Amber leaned a little closer.

"You know," Amber said softly, her voice low and just playful enough to make it unclear if she was joking or serious, "you should probably get away from me and the others while you still can. It'd be safer that way."

Annabeth arched an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips as she cracked open the can Amber gave her. "What, leave you to deal with all this mess on your own?" she shot back. "Not happening."

Amber tilted her head, the corners of her mouth lifting into a smirk of her own. "I'm serious. Things get... complicated around us. You might not want to stick around for it." She leaned casually against the fridge door, her dark eyes studying Annabeth like she was both testing and teasing her at the same time.

Annabeth didn't falter, holding Amber's gaze with a steady intensity. "Well, too bad. If you think I'm letting you or anyone else go down with this, you don't know me very well." She gave a soft, defiant grin, sipping her soda like she hadn't just declared loyalty to someone caught in the middle of a dangerous situation.

Amber's smirk deepened, her expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something beneath it—amusement? Admiration? Maybe even gratitude. "Suit yourself," she murmured, popping the tab on her own can. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Their exchange lingered in the air between them, unspoken tension curling at the edges, subtle but unmistakable. It wasn't outright flirtation, but it was close enough to stir something dangerous—especially with Tara watching from the other side of the room.

Tara glanced over from the stove, her hand pausing on the spoon she'd been using to stir the pasta. Her eyes narrowed, catching the way Amber's posture seemed relaxed, yet familiar, with Annabeth. The easy back-and-forth between them—soft smiles, brushed hands, lingering glances—felt intimate in a way Tara didn't like. Something warm and sharp twisted in her chest, and before she could stop herself, she glared at the two of them.

Amber noticed first. Her gaze flicked toward Tara, catching the jealous spark in her eyes. Instead of pulling back from Annabeth, she leaned just a little closer, a mischievous glint lighting her expression. Annabeth caught the shift too, following Amber's gaze and noticing Tara's reaction. A knowing smile spread across her face, but she didn't move away either, almost like she wanted to see how far Amber would take it.

Tara's grip tightened on the spoon in her hand, her jaw clenched. Chad nudged her with an elbow, oblivious to the growing tension. "You good over there?" he asked, tossing some chopped onions into the pan with a sizzle.

"Fine," Tara muttered, turning her attention back to the food. But the way she stirred the sauce—fast, irritated—said otherwise.

Amber chuckled quietly, the sound low and smug, just loud enough for Annabeth to hear. "Guess someone's jealous," she whispered under her breath, her smirk widening as Tara shot them both one last sharp glance before returning to dinner.

Annabeth grinned, taking a slow sip of her soda. "Looks like."

"Oh my god, it looks like there are two couples in that kitchen," Mindy announced loudly, a smirk curling at the edges of her mouth.