Page 34 of Fragile (Cedar Lakes University #2)

Chapter thirty-three

Quinn

“Is it really happening?” Hudson whispers.

“Maybe it’s a mirage, or maybe we’re all hallucinating.” Jay snickers.

“Get fucked, all of you. I’m here, okay? It’s not a big deal.” Miles pouts, which is one of my favorite things he does because he gets this little dimple in the middle of his chin when he pushes his bottom lip out. It’s adorable.

“Listen, we just never thought we’d see the day when Miles Cooper, the man who is too good for sparkly tape, would get his own scrapbook.”

He sighs, waving his hand dismissively. “Like I said, it’s no big deal, so stop making it one.”

“It is a big deal. I’m not about to share my favorite tape or glitter pens with you,” Hudson protests, holding his prized materials close.

“Relax, he’ll pick his own,” I soothe, then turn my head to Miles. “Think of colors that match and might complement each other and we’ll get you started.”

“Or you can go full on Barbie like Hudson and just use pink,” Seb muses, lacking his usual lap companion who had to miss today’s session in favor of practicing a new piece on her violin.

“There is nothing wrong with pink!” Hudson cries.

“I’m not great with color palettes,” Miles says, ignoring Hudson as he mutters to Seb about the shades of pink he uses. Seb rolls his eyes and bats the back of his head, mumbling something about being a princess.

“You don’t have to be. Here, let me show you.” I reach for the Sharpie pastel pens, and just as I do, I graze over his knee, and my body feels like it’s been electrocuted. Zap, zing, and bam, everything comes to life. Each nerve ending sings for his touch. Every single cell in my body wants him, and it feels impossible to hide. Suddenly, in my mind, I’m back on my knees for him again, doing exactly what we shouldn’t have done in the locker room. I’m also incredibly aware that we’re surrounded by our friends and my brother, which is why I’m too scared to glance at Miles. If he’s looking at me the way I think he might be looking at me, then I’ll combust on the spot.

Clearing my throat, I take a second before picking up the pens with shaky hands.

“Okay, so see how all these colors are lighter and most of them complement each other because of the shade they are?” I pick out two colors. “Like, how mint and lilac go well together.” Then I reach for the light yellow. “And when you add in another color, it just makes each one stand out more.”

He scratches the back of his neck, staring at the pens. “I, uh, you just said a bunch of stuff that doesn’t mean a lot to me.”

Thinking of a different approach, I set the pens down. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Green,” he replies without missing a beat and holds my eye contact with a phenomenal amount of intensity.

“Light green or dark green?” I manage to force out, looking away, unable to maintain eye contact. I tell myself it’s not to arouse suspicion, but in reality, it’s because when he looks at me, I kinda wanna jump his bones. And whatever we’re doing isn’t public knowledge so I can’t do that. But if you just told people, you could . The thought doesn’t seem as intimidating as it has previously, but I still want to selfishly hold on to Miles for myself a little longer. I’ve spent my whole life sharing him and now he’s mine.

“Look at me again,” he says quietly as our friends busy themselves around us. I glance up, and he studies me, well my eyes, for a long time. “Hm, yeah, more of a light green.”

Air evaporates from the room rapidly because he’s looking at me. My eyes. His favorite color belongs to me.

I fumble, my fingers forgetting how to hold an object as I drop the pastel mint green sharpie. Miles leans over, plucking it from between my legs on the ground.

“Thanks.” He winks, and my tongue feels like it’s too big for my mouth. Can I even swallow at this point? Who knows?

I manage to nod, though it feels like my head is on a loose hinge, bobbing too much and not enough at the same time. Miles is still leaning close, his scent—a mix of clean laundry and something slightly woodsy—it’s familiar and completely enveloping me. It’s borderline suffocating, but in a way that makes me want to take a deeper breath, to pull more of him into my lungs.

He chuckles, low and easy, as if he can sense my nervousness and finds it amusing, maybe even endearing. “You okay?” he asks, his voice soft with a hint of teasing

“I’m good,” I lie because, truthfully, I feel like I’m on fire and the main source of heat is coming from the apples of my cheeks. I’m probably lit up like a beacon. Glancing around, thankfully no one is paying attention to me.

“Liar,” he whispers. “Relax, you’re blushing.”

Yeah, I freaking know.

I pick up a few of my favorite stickers and place them loosely on the page I’m working on. It’s a new page, a blank one, and I need the distraction.

“So do we get to share what we’ve done at the end of each session here?” he asks, gesturing to my scrapbook.

Panic breaks out a light sweat on my brow. He absolutely, categorically, cannot see my scrapbook. It’s filled with pieces of him, us, our childhood and our friendship, but not in a platonic way at all. Anyone with eyes can see I’m in love with him if they saw my book. “We, uh, keep them personal, since secrets and all kinds of things can be in there,” I tell him, hoping my voice isn’t as shaky as I feel.

The panic subsides when he nods, frowning at his first page. “So, will you help me with my first page? Then I swear I’ll leave you alone.”

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.” The words slip out before I can rein them back in. “I mean, of course I can help you.”

I quickly busy my hands, ignoring the heat clawing its way around my body. Picking out stickers, tape, and some other colors that will complement the green, I gather them all and thrust the pile into his hands.

He takes it all from me, but I can’t meet his eyes, too scared that he’ll see the desperation I’ve spent so long hiding from him. I know we’re getting closer, a heck of a lot closer, but I’m still very much in love with him, and I’m not ready for him to see that yet.

“Have you ever seen Miles scrapbook before, Quinn?” Jay asks.

I shake my head, racking my brain. “No, and he used to suck at drawing when we were kids.”

“Hey!” Miles protests, poking my side.

“What? It’s true. But at least you were always good at sports.”

“I knew it!” Hudson exclaims. “He can’t be good at everything.”

“I am, though,” Miles counters, ripping some pale-yellow tape with his teeth, and he’s never looked sexier.

“You’re mediocre at best. I guarantee it.” Hudson laughs as he swirls a pink pen between his fingers.

“Wanna bet?”

Hudson leans forward and surveys Miles’s face. “Yeah, I do. Fifty bucks says my scrapbook is better than yours by the end of the year.”

“Pffff,” he huffs. “Easy.”

“No asking Quinn for tips either. That’s cheating.”

Miles side glances at me, then winks. “Fine, no cheating. I’ll still kick your ass.”

“Big talk for a guy who has zero artistic talent, according to our scrapbook club leader.”

“She doesn’t realize how many talents I have,” Miles replies suggestively, and it makes me choke on absolutely nothing. To make matters worse, my brother takes that opportunity to look up and frown at me.

“You okay, Quinn?” Seb asks.

Clearing my throat, I smile, eyes watery. “I’m good, I have this cough that’s more of a tickle, really, but it’s super annoying. I think one of the girls on the squad has it too. I probably got it from her. Maybe I’ll get some cough syrup later, or maybe some cough drops. Yeah, I’ll go…later.” I nod awkwardly, cheeks still warm from my ramble. My brother just replies with a single hum and goes back to his scrapbook. I know he’s working on something for Indie, so he's been quiet today, focused, which is good for me. Great for me, because he isn’t paying attention.

I can’t look at Miles, it’d be too obvious right now.

Jay catches my eye, though, as he shakes his head. “I’m going to grab some water. You look like you need one too, Quinn, come with me?” he asks before getting up and walking away.

I stand and follow him over to the small kitchen area as he pulls the fridge open, passes me a water, and narrows his eyes at me.

“What?” I squeak, even though I know what.

“Nothing,” he says, opening his water, twisting the cap slowly, as though he’s waiting for me to crack and tell him something. I open mine too and tip the cool liquid into my mouth, and when I look back, he’s still watching me.

“Seriously, what?”

Briefly flicking his eyes to the other side of the room, he looks back to me. “So, is it a secret?”

I absently squeeze the water bottle in my hands. “Is what a secret?”

“Sério?” Really? he says in his native tongue.

My eyes widen, knowing I’m going to have to come clean to one more person. “Okay, okay,” I begin, putting my bottle on the counter beside him. “You have to promise not to say anything.”

He makes a cross over his heart. “So, you and Miles?”

“Yeah, for a little while now. But you can’t tell Seb.” I rush out. “I’m not ready to…”

“Share your guy?”

I nod. “Is that bad of me?”

His shoulder lifts. “I won’t say anything; I know how close you all are. Seb is distracted with Indie most of the time, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out the way you were looking at each other over there.”

I groan. “I know. I’ll tell him when the time is right.”

Jay snickers but doesn’t push and starts walking back to our friends. I wait for a few seconds to deep breathe because I know he’s right and I will tell Seb…soon.

Taking my spot again, Miles immediately leans toward me.

“Don’t forget about our movie night later,” he says, a smile playing on his lips.

Begging my body to chill out and be cool, I look up at him. “I haven’t forgotten,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest. “What are the options tonight?”

He tilts his head, pretending to think hard. “I was thinking something scary.”

“Is that a private screening or…?” Jay teases, and I raise my eyebrow at him.

“Just our regular movie night,” Miles says casually, but the fact he said “our” gives me goosebumps. Ours, as in no one else is invited. Ours, as in me and him. And granted, it’s always been that way, but now there’s a hint of something more in his tone that makes my heart buck wildly.

“You’ll never get an invite to their precious movie nights,” Seb says, lifting his head from his book. “They’ve always done this, except for our freshman year when Quinn wasn’t here. But it’s just their thing.”

I wait to see if he sounds as though he suspects anything, but I realize everything Miles and I do is normal for him. Because we’ve all grown up together, it doesn’t matter if he hugs me or makes me laugh, it’s normal for us.

“Are we sure they aren’t just having sex?” Hudson’s words hit like a bomb, and every muscle in my body tenses. My eyes dart to Miles, who’s already looking at me, his expression unreadable but his jaw clenched. Is he freaking out like I am? Or is he annoyed? I honestly can’t tell. I open my mouth to say something—anything—but nothing comes out. My mind races, trying to figure out if everyone’s figured us out, or if Hudson’s just being his usual loud, clueless self.

“Dude!” Seb shouts, turning to us with a look of exasperation. “Tell him that's not happening! He just doesn’t get it.”

Neither do you . He has no idea how long I’ve been in love with his best friend, or how many times we’ve secretly kissed…and stuff over the past few weeks. Guilt gnaws at me. I almost want to blurt it out. Almost.

Miles clears his throat, stepping in, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Look, Seb’s right. Movie nights are our thing, alright? After my mom…well, Quinn used to come over with popcorn and gummy worms to distract me, to keep me company. We’ve watched every terrible romantic comedy out there, but it’s kind of our thing. Always has been.”

Jay raises an eyebrow, while Hudson looks suspiciously between the two of us. “Just movies, huh?” he asks.

Miles nods, trying to keep it casual. “Just movies. We’ve been doing it for years.”

“Alright, alright,” Hudson finally says, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I get it. Movie night is sacred.”

I let out a small breath that was stuck in my throat, grateful that we weren’t outed yet. But before I can fully relax, Hudson shoots us a sly grin. “But you know, if you’re ever in the mood to invite a third wheel, I’m just saying—I make a mean batch of nachos.”

Miles chuckles and shakes his head. “I don’t know if you’re serious or trying to make this sexual.”

Hudson shrugs. “Probably both.”

As everyone goes back to their own tasks, the tension eases, and I glance at Miles. He catches my eye and gives me a small, reassuring smile, but I still feel on edge. I think it’s probably about time we talked about when we tell my brother.