“C’mon, Q. You must like her, no?” he asks.
I hear him sigh before he replies, “It’s not like that at all. We’re too different. I could never be with someone like her.”
I could never be with someone like her.Those words ring in my ears, the feeling of not being good enough familiar. My mom never wanted me, so why would Quentin want to be withmeeither, right?
And while I know we agreed to just be friends, it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear him so bluntly say that.
“I think you’re full of shit,” Matheo says bluntly.
“Whatever, I’ll talk to you later,” Quentin says, ending the call.
I attempt to move away from the wall before he sees me, but just as I’m about to move, we make eye contact.
“Teagan.”
“Save it,” I say curtly, hastily making my way to the stairs and up to my room with him hot on my heels.
“Teagan, look at me,” Quentin says from the frame of my door.
“No,” is all I say as I reach for my duffel bag under the bed and throw it on top of the bed.
“W-what are you doing?” he asks, sounding scared.
“Leaving.”
It’s my instinct to run, to avoid being hurt more than I already am.
I open a drawer and begin throwing things in the bag when Quentin gently grabs my hand, stopping me.
“What the hell is going on? Is this because you heard my conversation with my brother?”
I pull my hand out of his and rest both of my hands on my hips. “Yeah, I did. So I’m not going to spend another second here bothering you.”
“I never said you bother me,” he tries to defend.
“You said we’re too different and that you could never be with someone like me.Sorry I’m not a sweet girl who shoots sunshine out of her ass, or whatever it is about me that you don’t like. But I won’t change for anyone.” My voice is steady, despite the shakiness in my legs, adrenaline coursing through me.
“I don’t want you to change, Teagan.”
“Whatever, Quentin. You were right. We’re too different and we’d never work out,” I say, even though it’s the farthest thing from the truth.
In fact, I think it’s why I’m so pissed off. Because for a while now, I’ve been wanting to be more than his friend, yet too scared to admit it. I almost did once, and I’ve been trying to suppress it since then. So to hear him write us off to his brother like that was a stab in my chest.
Fuck, why do feelings have to be so complex and confusing?
“We are different, Teagan, but I like that. I like that you challenge me. I like how passionate you are about the things you love. I like how you stay true to yourself, no matter what. There is no one like you, and it’s my favorite thing about you.”
I stare at him, my chest heaving with my sudden anger and confusion over it. God, I hate these hormones. Because despite the anger, there’s a part of me that is melting over his words.
“Why did hearing that piss you off so much, huh?” he prods when I don’t answer as he walks toward me until my back hits the wall.
I look up at him, not willing to give myself away. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. But if you don’t want to talk, maybe I can guess,” he pauses, and when I don’t say anything, he continues on. “You’re mad that I didn’t tell him the truth. When the truth is that I’m fucking crazy about you.”
“You’re just saying that because I’m carrying our child,” I refute, rolling my eyes to try to play it off like he’s wrong. Meanwhile, he’s spot on. While I suspected he may have feelings for me, I needed to hear him say it out loud. To know that I’m not alone in my feelings.
“I’ve thought about you every single day since the night we met. I debated on using my old friend who’s into hacking to get into the camera system at the bar to figure out who you were so I could talk to you, ask you on a date,” he admits, stealing the breath from my lungs.
