Quinn:For Luke Green? He’s hot, but is he worth you doing something completely out of character?
Me:He’s not just hot. He’s smokin’ hot, grrrl.
God, his tattoos would make any girl swoon, but add that to his body…. He must work out every single day. He’s got beautiful, sleek muscles, but he’s not all huge and roided out. At least he doesn’t look that way. It’s not his clothes either, because I’ve only ever seen him in tees and jeans. It’s the way they fit him like a glove. Can you tell I’ve spent a good amount of time checking him out? It’s true. Even when I was with Dylan. And why not? Dylan used to check out girls all the time. He’d joke about it and say nobody was as hot as me. I was stupid enough to believe him. So, what did it hurt if I noticed someone like Luke? He was out of my league anyway. Not to mention I never would have cheated on Dylan. I thought it was the same for him.
Quinn: OMG. You’re crazy. Grrrl? LOL
Me:I’m sleep-deprived. Forgive me.
Quinn:No need to forgive. Luke is quite a looker. Too bad he’s so cranky all the time.
Crankyandhot is a lethal combination—as long as it’s not directed at me.
Me: Going to bed. Love you, Q.
Quinn:Me too. <3.Night, lovey.
Me:Night.
* * *
I smile at my phone.I’m so happy Quinn and I are back to normal. Heck, I think things are stronger than ever now. It’s weird how friendships like ours can last so long and endure things like fights that last weeks and come out stronger on the other side. I know Quinn and I will always be tight. We’ll be there for each other through thick and thin. The reason I know this is because I made a promise to myself that day at the Hub. The day Cooke surprised her. I wasn’t going to judge her anymore. Yeah, I know you’re probably laughing your ass off at that statement, but I mean it. She’s a grown-ass woman. She can love whomever she wants. My job is to be there if and when it all falls apart. I’ll be there with a bottle of wine and a voodoo doll of the asshole, whoever he is.
Quinn has never judged me. Well, okay, I had one boyfriend she hated. The one before Dylan. Quinn was right about him. His name was Kyle andhewasan asshole. I see it now. Not at the time, though. At the time I thought he was the GOAT—greatest of all time. Turns out he was the WOAT—worst of all time. Yeah, I made that last one up. I need to trust Quinn more than I have in the past. And I will. Promise.
Setting my phone down on my nightstand, I snuggle beneath my covers. October in Iowa is unpredictable weather-wise. It can be downright hot or there could be snow on the ground. Right now, it’s getting chillier by the day. I’ve been putting off using the furnace in the apartment because I don’t need another bill right now. I look around my room and frown at the boxes stacked along the wall and it reminds me–– I need to move soon. When Dylan left—or I guess I should say when I kicked him out—he left a ton of his shit here. Half of the packed boxes are his, and the rest are mine.
“God.” I sigh. Where the hell will I go?
Getting comfortable, I close my eyes and do my best to force myself to sleep. Sleep hasn’t been my friend of late. I’m surprisingly well on my way when I hear a knock on my door. I blink my eyes open and look at my clock. One forty-five. I can only guess who it is. I could ignore it, but then he might wake the neighbors, and I don’t want to get them involved. They already hate Dylan and therefore me by default.
Throwing off the covers, I hit the light switch on my way out of my bedroom. It gives me enough light to get to the front door. Peeking through the security hole, I groan. “Dylan. Go home.” Wherever the hell that is. Last I heard, he was sleeping on a friend’s couch. At least he’s not living withSavanna. Ugh, what a stupid name.
“Red.”
Yeah, he calls me Red. Real original, I know.
“Go. Home.”
“Thisismy home.”
“Not anymore.”
“Come on, let me in. Just for a minute.”
He’s getting louder. My guess? He’s been drinking.
I groan again, then turn the deadbolt and undo the chain. Pulling the door open, I step aside. “You’ve got five minutes to say whatever the fuck you need to say, and then you need to leave.”
“Jesus,” he mutters. “You’re such a bitch.”
That makes the hair on my arms stand up. It also makes my eyes burn. “I’m—” I clear my throat. “I’m not a bitch.”You fucking asshole.
“Red.” He turns to face me, then scans me from head to toe. I’m wearing baggy pajamas, thankfully, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from practically leering at me. “You look good.”
I do not look good. I know my hair is a mess, I haven’t slept much in weeks, and I’m depressed. So no, I look like shit.
“What do you want? Did you come to get your shit?” I point to the boxes stacked around the room.
