“Please, call me Annie.”She reached for a plate of snacks on the counter behind her and handed it to Quinn. “Let me know if you guys need anything else.”
As Quinn walked us through the kitchen and to the side door leading out to the garage that doubled as a workshop, it wasn’t lost on me that this woman who I’d just met was kinder and softer to me in the two-minute exchange we’d had than my father had ever been to me.That I could remember at least.
Taking stock of the workshop, I was amazed at it all. As a kid, I had begged my dad to build with me, to teach me how to create using my hands. He never had time—that was his excuse anyway. I knew he never wanted me to develop the skill. He wanted to teach me how to throw, catch, and run. His dreams superseded mine.
But as I looked around this workshop, I grabbeda hold of those dreams once again and promised myself never to let go of them. “Okay, so what did you have in mind?” I asked, walking over to the desk where I saw a sketchbook opened.
He walked up behind me and I felt his presence all around me. As he flipped through the pages, I caught a glimpse of his other ideas. While I knew he was a good student—that much I could tell from school alone—Ihad no idea he was this creative. And if the pair of doves sitting on the table were representative of what he was capable of, then he was incredibly talented as well.
“Those are for my parents. Their anniversary is coming up. So I threw something together for them.” Though I hadn’t asked him about them, he must have seen me looking.
“Threw them together?” I picked one up from the table andwas simply blown away by the craftsmanship. “How did you get them so perfect? I used the welding torch in class last week and it was awful.”
Quinn laughed, but it wasn’t insulting. “Yeah, I saw that. It was all crooked and shit.” He shrugged before taking the dove from my hand. When his fingers grazed mine, my breath hitched in my throat. “Just lots of practice I guess. My dad’s been teachingme all this stuff since I was a kid. It’s his favorite hobby, so I always wanted to be in here with him. Guess it just made sense for him to teach me what he was doing since I was in here anyway.”
“So you’re close with your dad?” Clearly it was a stupid question. A blip of laughter came before he said, “Of course. We’re pretty much best friends.” I was insanely jealous as he talked about therelationship he had with his father. And it wasn’t difficult to see he had a great relationship with his mother, too. What I wouldn’t give to have that, even for the briefest of moments, with my parents.
Maybe in another lifetime.
“So the project,” I cut in, desperately needing a change of subject.
“Oh, yeah. Okay. So here.” He opened to a page in his sketchbook. And once again I was blownaway with his creativity. “I was thinking we can make the entire base from iron. I can weld it. And then you can craft the top. These slats,” he continued explaining and I was caught in the mesmerizing sound of his voice. “We don’t have to do it this way. I figured we could split the work evenly, so I just drew what came to mind. We can change it.” He paused, but my eyes were still glued to the page.“Or not,” he went on. “Whatever you want.” Another pause. “You hate it. Do you? Oh fuck, I’m rambling. Sorry. I just don’t like awkward silences.”
Still blown away, I hadn’t really registered most of what he’d said. “Please. Say something. This is killing me. I swear, if you hate it we can start all over. I just thought—”
And then my brain started working again. Well, it had been working, butall I could focus on was the way his lips moved as he spoke. All I could imagine was how his hands looked as they drew the image I was holding in my hands, how he looked as the sparks from his torch flew in the air. It took a few more seconds for my mouth to catch up, but when it did, I finally said, “No. Stop. Really. I love the idea. It’s perfect.”
“Yeah? Are you sure? Because—”
I couldn’thelp the laugh falling from my lips. For someone who seemed to have it all, his confidence was clearly lacking. And that was a rather ironic thing to notice coming from me. “Nope. It definitely works.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon planning out the project, making a list of supplies we’d need, figuring out when we could meet again. “It’ll just have to be here, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Imean everything is here already anyway.” Running his hand through his unruly hair, he paused and then let out a sigh. “Can I ask you something?”
Nodding, a knot grew in my stomach. Had he noticed me noticing him? Could he tell I was thinking about him in ways that I shouldn’t be?
“You said it wouldhaveto be here.”
“Yeah,” I answered cautiously, hoping this wouldn’t go somewhere I couldn’thandle.
“And you always seem so quiet. Reserved.” He paused again but this time took a moment to sit down. There was a chair next to him, so I took advantage, concerned that my legs would somehow give out when he finally asked whatever it was that he was getting at.
As he twisted his fingers together, the knot in my stomach moved into my chest. “Is everything okay? I mean at home. Are you… Idon’t know…,” he stammered. “I saw how you flinched before when I mentioned my dad. Do you not get along with yours? Does he—”
I breathed a sigh of relief when I pieced together the string of his questions. “Hit me?” I asked, stifling my laughter. “Nah.” I shrugged before adding, “He’d have to care about me first if he wanted to hit me. I just kind of exist to him. That’s all.”
On that note,I figured now would be as good a time as any to hightail it the hell out of here before he asked anything else that was too personal. I needed the space anyway.
He walked me to the front door where his mom offered me a ride home. “Thank you, Annie, but it’s only a few blocks.”
“Well, then you’ll just have to come over more often. How about dinner sometime? I make a mean chicken parm.”
Nervously,I looked over at Quinn. Desperately not wanting to overstep any boundaries, I silently begged him for an answer.
He stepped forward and clapped me on the shoulder. My skin lit with electricity at his touch. I exhaled the air I’d been holding, preemptively grateful he’d just gotten me out of it.
But when he opened his mouth, his words shocked me. “She’s gotcha there, Ry. No one can resist herfamous chicken parm.”
