Damp arms curled around me and the air left my lungs as—in one bound—Quinn crushed me to his warm chest.
“Yeah, you do,” he whispered in my ear.
The unfamiliar sensation froze me for a second. I pulled against Quinn, but then his warmth molded against me, supportive and comfortable.
Slowly, he released his grip, pulling back to shrug at me. “If you really hate it, I won’t, of course.”
I didn’t really hate it. “There are worse roommates out there than ones that hug.” I bent to pick up another comic with a slight tremble in my fingers. “Now when you said you had books, I thought you meantrealones.”
“Uh-oh,” Shannon said, an evil grin quirking her lip, “I wouldn’t insult his comic stuff. He’s quite the sensitive man-boy when it comes to them.”
“Comicstuff, Shannon? Really?” Quinn folded him arms and pouted.
“See what I mean?” she said, brushing a blue strand of hair from her eyes.
I looked from Quinn to Shannon. They were such good friends and so... close. If I’d focused on finding friends instead of working non-stop, would I have had a friendship like this by now? Would it have made me a better writer for the party page? Would I have known Jack and Jill were such dicks?
Quinn said, “Our Liam here is thinking, Shan. You can tell by the clicking.”
I dropped the pen I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding, and drew my hand out of my pocket.
“What are you thinking about?” Shannon asked, and before I could stumble over an answer, she moved out of the room carrying a potted Aloe Vera.
If I hadn’t peeked at Quinn, I might not have had to answer at all. But his not-so-subtle eyebrow raise forced me to answer.
“I...” I grabbed another comic and slipped it onto the correct shelf. “Who’s your favorite character?” I asked him.
“I like Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent. I like them most without their costumes on.”
“That’s a bit too much information.”
Quinn flushed. “I meant their superherocostumes. I like them with their clothes on.”
I nodded and pushed up my glasses. “It’s okay, Quinn. I’m not going to freak out, remember?” I picked up a comic and flipped through it. “I’ve never read comics much, but maybe I could take one to look at?”
“You can take as many as you like. Even”—Quinn plucked out a comic sealed in a Ziploc bag—“my most prized.” He held it out, but when I reached for it, he pulled it back a fraction. “Just, please, no food or drink around it.”
I jerked my head up. “Ohh, Ilikeyou.”
Quinn’s brow rose, and his gaze sparkled with a repressed laugh. “That’s the reason you like me?”
“Books should never be disrespected.”
A comic featuring Booster Gold caught my eye. “This guy sort of looks like you. I think I have to read this one too.”
“He gets shirtless in that issue quite a bit.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder and said, just before he pushed away to find Shannon, “You’ll like it. There’s a lot to...observe.”
Chapter Seven
Tuesday evening, I came home to the delicious smell of stew and Quinn draped over the couch chatting with Shannon over the phone. He wagged his eyebrows in hello and pointed to the stove. “Help yourself,” he mouthed. He switched the phone to his other hand. Into the mouthpiece, he said, “No shit? Seriously?”
I peeled off my parka—
Wait. What was with the bandage peeking out from under Quinn’s sleeve? I tried to get a better look as I shuffled into the kitchen, but I banged into the corner of the bar.
“Ouch,” I yelped, quickly steering around the sharp corner and intothe actual kitchen.
“Got to go, Shan. Lunch tomorrow? . . . Sweet.”
