Page 27 of Fragile (Cedar Lakes University #2)

Chapter twenty-six

Miles

“Show me your class timetable,” Quinn says, perched on my chair at my desk in her cheer uniform. She has practice this afternoon, albeit observing, since her ankle still isn’t right, and has already told me in no uncertain circumstances that I’ll be going with her.

It’s been a few days since I tipped away the pills from Levi. I haven’t felt great; the tiredness that grips me some days is crippling. As a result, I’ve been sleeping like it’s my full-time job, even though school and football should be those things.

I’ve also had headaches to boot. I can’t pretend that I’m finding it easy, because it’s not. Nothing about this situation I got myself into is easy. Nothing about the slippery slope I was falling down is easy, and getting back up? Fuck, that’s even harder.

My sobriety wasn’t just about the pills, though, and it wasn’t just about impressing my dad. In fact, that’s something I’m eager to forget all about. But I knew I had more to deal with. I could feel it bubbling under the surface of my subconscious. It’s about detoxing from anger, resentment, and a hatred that were building a fortress around my heart. The things that keep me awake at night, and I’ll deal with them…when I’m ready. But I have to start somewhere. First, the habit needs to be kicked.

We’ve got game seven coming up soon, and then it’s one more game until our rivalry game against Washington University. Our boarder war is historical in football, and everyone expects nothing short of a sensational show of sportsmanship and talent. It’s going to take a lot of our best plays to make sure we come out on top. And a lot of my own willpower not to rely on a little white pill.

You can do this. One step at a time.

“Miles?” Quinn asks, getting my attention again.

“It’s on the pin board above your head.” I nod behind her.

I watch her reach up, exposing a sliver of perfectly freckled skin on her hip as she moves. I love her freckles; they’ve always been so perfectly her, but now I see them and all I want to do is memorize every one. She bites the inside of her lower lip as she scrolls and types on my laptop, her legs comfortably draped over one another. She’s too good to me, for me. And I definitely don’t deserve her help. But I’m too weak to push her away right now.

My phone plays the message tone I set for my dad last night, so I know to avoid it. Which is exactly what I do. I need less of Mark Cooper’s influence and more of Quinn Dawson.

“Okay,” she says, slapping her hands onto the desk. “I’ve got a plan.”

“I’m listening.”

The twinkle in her eye tells me that I’m about to get schooled Quinn style. This has always been her favorite thing to do, boss me and Seb around as kids. Hell, forget kids, she still does it now. I’m all too happy to oblige and indulge her, though, especially now.

“I have set up the shared calendar on your laptop, and you need to update your phone too. But effectively any downtime you have, I’ve taken away and given us joint study time, or if it coincides with something else when we’re apart, but there are reminders to check in.”

“I’ve signed my life over to you,” I say, more as a statement than a question.

Quinn looks up with a determined expression. “And there's one more thing we need to do.” She reaches for my phone, which is laying on the bed.

I frown, not understanding. “What are you doing?”

“I'm deleting Levi's number from your phone,” she says firmly. “What’s your code?”

I don’t even hesitate to give it to her. “0312.”

Her entire demeanor shifts from casual to frozen. It takes her a few minutes to look up at me, and when she does, the surprise in her eyes glistens. “March twelfth,” she repeats.

I nod, knowing exactly what that date is. “Your birthday.”

Her eyes flit from the phone to meet mine, as confusion and vulnerability etch on her face. “Why?” she asks, voice trembling. “Why did you use my birthday as your code?”

Suddenly feeling everything she’s not saying, I swallow roughly. “Because…” I begin, needing to clear my throat. “You’re important to me. Always have been.”

Quinn blinks rapidly. “W-what?” she stutters on a breath.

“I mean,” I pause, not entirely sure what I mean, because Quinn has always been a part of me. We grew up together and have always had each other’s backs. I’ve never questioned why I used her birthday as my code before now; it just felt right. “You’re my Queenie. And maybe now I realize I’ve been too blind to see what’s right in front of me.”

Her eyes fill with tears as she takes a shaky breath. “You really mean that?”

I nod again, my voice barely a whisper. “Yeah, Quinn. I do.”

The world around us fades, leaving only the sound of our breaths mingling in the stillness. God, I want to kiss her. To tell her that I couldn’t do this without her, but I don’t want to come on too strong here. And we haven’t actually had a conversation about what any of this is for us. Fuck, I still haven’t even taken the girl on a date. I don’t deserve her.

“Well, that’s…” She breaks our eye contact. “I mean, I didn’t expect… Your birthday isn’t mine, but I could—”

“Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“Delete Levi’s number.”

“Right, right, that’s what I was doing. Of course.”

She unlocks my phone with a bewildered shake of her head and scrolls through the contacts. I watch as she finds his number and deletes it, and I feel a mix of relief and anxiety as a result. It’s a small step, but it’s a crucial one.

“There,” she says, handing the phone back to me. “One less temptation.”

One less temptation replaced with another temptation in the form of Quinn.

“Oh, I thought we should probably block your dad’s number on game days too. I’ll set reminders to do it each time.” She taps once more on my computer before turning back to me, and a sudden swell of gratitude has me reeling.

“Hey,” I say, getting her attention and patting the side of the bed next to me. “Will you sit with me for a second?”

A flush creeps onto the apples of her cheeks as she hobbles over. I go to stand to help her, but she puts her hand up to stop me.

“I need to strengthen it again. Don’t get up. This is good practice.”

I nod, though my instincts urge me to help. Quinn's injury is still fresh, but the determination written all over her face tells me helping her would only piss her off. I watch her make her way to the bed with slow steps. She lowers herself cautiously, wincing as she settles beside me.

“How does it feel?” I ask.

She exhales a whoosh of air, glancing at her bandaged ankle. “It's better. Slow going, but better.” When her eyes lift to meet mine, there's a moment, an electric current buzzing, and everything unsaid lingers between us.

“Good,” I murmur. “That's good.”

Quinn shifts slightly, the mattress dipping with her weight. Trying to dispel some of the tension, I clear my throat. “So, uh, thanks for deleting his number and for organizing all of this.”

Her clear green eyes don’t leave mine as she nods. “It’s easier this way.”

“Yeah,” I agree, my voice barely above a whisper. “It's just... a lot.” I’m a lot.

Quinn's gaze softens, and she reaches out, her fingers brushing mine. The contact is brief, almost fleeting, but it sends a jolt through me. “You don't have to carry it all by yourself,” she says gently.

The words are like a balm, soothing the raw edges of my stress and anxiety. But they also scare me. Leaning on someone, letting them in, means risking more than I think I can handle. Especially when that someone is Quinn, who is such a big part of my life anyway. I could mess it all up. I could lose her.

“I know,” I reply, though I'm not sure I entirely believe it. “But sometimes it's easier said than done.”

“I get that.” Her hand lingers near mine, understanding in her eyes.

“Quinn,” I start, but my voice falters. What do I even want to say? That I'm grateful? That I'm scared? That despite everything, I can't stop thinking about her?

She looks at me, waiting, her expression open and patient. It makes it both easier and harder to speak.

“I don't know if this is... if I’m good for…” I trail off, unable to stop staring at her lips and warring with the feelings inside of me.

Quinn's expression hardens with what looks like uneasiness. “If you’re good for what?” she asks, her tone carefully neutral.

“For you.” The words tasting bitter in my mouth. “I mean, with everything going on, I’d understand if you want to forget everything that’s happened between us and keep it platonic.”

Her eyes flicker with something—hurt, maybe? Disappointment?—before she masks it. “I see.” As she pulls her hand back, the loss of contact is almost physically painful.

“It's not that I don't want to,” I say quickly, desperate to clarify. “I want to, so much. It's just...complicated.”

“Life is complicated,” she replies, a hint of steel in her tone. “But that doesn't mean we should avoid what we want.”

Her words strike a chord, resonating with something deep inside me. I know she's right, but it doesn't make it any easier. The stakes feel impossibly high. Our friendship. My college career. The fact that her brother is my best friend. “What do you want?”

Her green eyes clear as she says. “You.”

“Quinn,” I say again, and this time, I reach for her hand, holding it tightly like she’s my lifeline. “I don't want to mess this up. I don't want to hurt you.”

She squeezes my hand back, her eyes searching mine. “You won’t hurt me.”

It's a challenge, a plea, and a promise all wrapped into one. And it terrifies me.

“But what if I do?” I whisper, raw with emotion. “What if I can't do this right?”

She leans in, her forehead almost touching mine. “Then we'll figure it out. Together.”

The closeness of her, the intensity in her eyes, it's almost too much. But it's also exactly what I need. The fear, the uncertainty, they don't vanish, but they become more bearable with her by my side.

“Okay,” I breathe out, the word fragile.

I can’t wait any longer. I step closer, my hand reaching up to cup her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. The warmth of her skin beneath my fingers calms the nerves firing in my chest. I lean in, hesitating for just a second, and then I kiss her—soft, tentative, because I don’t want to rush.

But then she leans into me, and my restraint weakens. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, and I hold her closer, my hand sliding to her waist, feeling her melt against me. Everything else disappears, and all that’s left is her— us —right here, like nothing else in the world matters.