Page 4 of Fragile (Cedar Lakes University #2)

Chapter three

Quinn

Watching Miles suck face with someone else... It really sucks. I’m not a fan. But it’s also something I’ve seen before. Many times.

Does it make my heart feel like it’s going to explode? Yeah . Am I going to do anything about it? No . I’ve only got myself to blame. I don’t need to watch it happen, though, so I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing I was anywhere but here.

“You’re out of it tonight. What is going on?” Indie asks, nudging my toe with hers, as she stands across from me in the tiny kitchen. Opening my eyes again, I see her bright blues assessing me with curiosity and concern.

I shake my head, breaking away my focus from her, and stare into my full cup of vodka with some kind of bright red mixer that tastes like pure sugar. I wince at the thought of taking another sip. “Just…adjusting to school again, that’s all.”

Indie moves to lean against the same counter as me so we’re side by side, close enough that I can feel her reassurance, but not so much that I feel stifled. “Wanna talk? Vault, remember?” I look up just as she taps the side of her head, and I smile.

My gaze goes back to my drink as my lungs inflate to the fullest, collecting all the thoughts inside my head about the boy I’ve spent my whole life loving. I hold that breath in my chest until my lungs burn with the need to release.

No, I can’t talk about it. Talking won’t change anything. My brother’s best friend will never know. I’ll never tell him for two reasons. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, and absolutely shouldn’t get in between my brother and Miles like that. They have the kind of friendship that’s brotherly, and if Miles and I didn’t work out? Seb would pick me over him, without question, and I’d be responsible for being the wrecking ball in destroying their relationship. That kind of hurt is what my girl, Taylor, writes songs about, and I could never be the source for anyone.

Secondly, and probably the point that makes my heart feel like a used soggy tissue, is that Miles does not see me as anything more than a friend. Some might even say a sister. Which makes me feel like an absolute creep, so I’m going with friend. We’re a little group, have been ever since we were in diapers together, and I keep all these feelings inside because it’s for the best. Yay for me.

Pressing my knuckles to my sternum, I rub at the ache that’s always present when I think of him and try to lock the feelings down once again. It would be easier if I didn’t love him, but we’ve spent so much of our lives together, through growing up next door, to going to the same university, it feels strange when I’m not with him. Being so intertwined is both equal parts torture and bliss. When it’s just me and him during our monthly movie nights, everything feels right. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, and I can’t let that feeling go. I can’t let him go. My heart is hellbent on never being free of him.

I glance over at Indie, my throat prickling with the force of those emotions lingering within me. She stares into my eyes for a beat and, for a second, I think she can read my mind, but she doesn’t push, just shuffles a little closer and lays her head on my shoulder. A pillar of strength when I’m feeling especially weak.

“I know,” she whispers into the busy room, but I hear her. I didn’t even have to say anything, and she knew.

My eyes find Miles again, because they always find him, and watch as Madison sucks on his neck, arms wrapped around him. He doesn’t return her affection, though. His eyes are open and…empty. He almost looks bored. Weirdly, I take comfort in that, because maybe he doesn’t really want her. When she moves back to his mouth, he pulls away, and something like satisfaction warms my blood at seeing her get rejected. God, I’m sick. But then he leans down, pecks her cheek, and takes her hand, dragging her through the crowd of people, and that satisfaction is snuffed out faster than a flame in the wind. It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s going to happen next.

A loneliness chills my bones as I watch him disappear up into a room and close the door behind them. It’s not that I wish I was in Madison’s place… Okay, I totally wish I was , but not here. Not when anyone could walk in. But going home to an empty bed and waking up with no one...it’s lonely. And the thing is, I like my own company; I’m a hoot, but I just want to feel something different. Something other than longing.

An idea takes root in my head, and I realize that maybe I’ve been alone too much over the last few months before school started. Indie took a scholarship that kept her busy and Seb went to training camp with Miles, but me? I stayed home all summer, volunteering at the local women’s shelter and pining. So. Much. Pining. I need a distraction. I… I need to move on.

“I want to date more,” I blurt, startling myself.

Indie doesn’t falter, though, at my honest sentiment. She simply lifts her head to look at me and nods. “I’ve been trying to get Seb to back off with the whole protective brother bullshit. It can’t be easy trying to date with him lurking around like your shadow.”

“It’s not easy,” I admit. Even though I love my brother, it’s hard being his little sister.

“He’s going to get another lecture from me tonight too. I want you to be happy.”

I look over to my best friend, smiling. “I love you, you know.”

She shrugs her shoulder. “I know. I got your back.”

“And I’ve got yours.”

Indie lets a rare smile tug at her lips. “So shall we start looking for contenders tonight?” she asks, perking up like now the party has gotten busier.

I shake my head. My unrequited feelings for Miles are well and truly in play tonight, and I have a feeling, no matter who she suggests, they’ll fall short to a man who doesn’t see me the same way I do him. “Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow, or later this week over lunch?”

She hums a noise of agreement, and then a wave of tiredness washes over me. I need a decent night’s sleep. I’ve got cheer practice tomorrow afternoon after back-to-back classes. And it’s not like I’m having fun standing here, knowing where Miles and Madison likely are and what they’re doing.

“I think I’m just gonna head out,” I yawn. We’ve been here for longer than Indie’s standard thirty minutes anyway, and she’s going back to Seb’s dorm tonight. I turn, pulling her into a hug, and she doesn’t resist. It took her a while, but she’s finally gotten used to hugging me over the last year, considering she was as prickly as a cactus when we first met. “Are you staying?”

“I should probably find Seb before I go. Let him know I’m heading back to his room.” She glances around the gathering crowd and huffs a disgruntled noise. “It’ll take me ages to find him in here.”

“Always Mr. Popular.”

“Don’t I know it. Text me when you’re home?”

“Will do,” I say as we split off into opposite directions, her moving deeper into the throng of people and me pushing my way past sweaty bodies, heading toward the front door. My escape plan is slightly thwarted when some of the cheer squad spot me and drag me over for a quick drink. What feels like an eternity later, when it’s really only about an hour or so, I manage to escape despite the crowd and all the discarded solo cups and sticky floor trying to keep me hostage.

As soon as I’m in the hallway of the dorm building, the noise quietens, the thumping base a muffled repetitive beat, and I’m alone. Pausing in the empty space, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, exhaling all that negative energy. Tomorrow is a new day.

I pull on my jacket that I found on my way out and head to the stairwell, when something catches my attention, stopping me. “Miles?” I say, my voice sharp with surprise. He’s leaning against the wall, next to Levi Sanders, and at the sound of his name, he looks up at me, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Jeez, how much did he drink tonight? He didn’t look that drunk when he was making out with Madison an hour or so ago.

“Queenie!” he slurs, a wide, sloppy grin spreading across his face. Levi glances at me, disinterested, and pushes off the wall, clasping Miles’s hand in one of those bro-shakes, disappearing down the hall before I can say anything.

“I thought you were inside with Madison?”

He waves his hand dismissively. “I was with her.” A look I can’t quite read crosses his face, but it quickly disappears as he focuses—or tries to focus—on me, that same dopey grin returning to his face. “I’m not now. I’m with you .”

“Actually, you were just with Levi too. Looking for new friends?” I ask, my eyes narrowing. I don’t know much about the guy, but one of the girls on the team dated him briefly last year and his reputation around campus is less than stellar.

“What’s it to you?” he mumbles, swaying slightly. “He’s… He’s a cool dude.”

“A cool dude?” I ask skeptically. “When have you ever called anyone a cool dude? What are you, eighty?”

“Hey, watch it, young lady. That mouth will get you into trouble.” He wiggles a finger at me, the motion making him sway and stumble back slightly.

“Okay, whatever you say, Grandpa. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“Where we goin’?” he asks, as I hook his arm around my shoulders and lead him toward the exit, which thank god isn’t too far down the hall.

“Somewhere you can sober up.”

A few students pass us by. “Hey, Miles, great game last week. We’re looking strong,” one guy says, slapping his shoulder. Miles just grunts in response, which isn’t like him.

“That was rude. You should’ve thanked that guy. Do you know him?”

“No, maybe, who knows. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m just a statistic for them, always a statistic,” he babbles, and something about his tone isn’t quite right.

“A statistic? What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry.”

But I do worry. However, I let it slide for now, because he’s drunk, and it’s unlikely I’ll get a coherent answer from him anyway.

Pushing open the door, we step outside into the cool night air, and I somehow manage to get him down the steps—which is more difficult than the flight of stairs he had no problem walking down—and aim him toward his dorm. Pausing at a bench to catch my breath a second, I point to it and order, “Sit.” He plops down with a salute and a smirk before his head flops back. My breathing remains labored as I keep one hand on my hip, assessing how much farther I need to drag the giant football player who appears to be falling asleep in front of me.

Chewing my lip, lost in thought, I don’t register the soft graze of his fingers against the back of my hand until he links them together. My mouth dries as I look down at our joined hands, hating how right it feels for us to do this. At least to me. He stares up at me, his eyes wide, struggling to focus, but still, I see my favorite things shining in his drunken gaze. The streak of caramel through his left iris, glistening in the overhead streetlights. The twinkle of something that’s quintessentially Miles that I can’t deny. “You mad at me, Queenie?”

My fingers tense in his, wondering why he cares anyway. “Why would I be mad, Miles? Because you’re drunk off your ass, or because you were hanging out with Levi?”

Or because you had your tongue down another girl’s throat? But I can’t voice that out loud. His tongue can do whatever it likes.

He laughs, the sound bitter and unsteady. “Maybe because I kissed Madison tonight?” His retort catches me off guard, like he can see right through me, see my darkest secret. How does he know that bothered me? “Jealous, Queenie?”

My cheeks catch fire, and I feel a sharp pang in my chest, but I hide it behind a snarky retort. “Why would I be jealous?” I snap, yanking my hand from his. “You can kiss whoever you want, Miles.”

Leaning back, he spreads his arms out across the bench behind him, and I notice every single muscle flex with the movement. “Yeah, but you didn’t like it. I saw you watching me earlier, and I can tell by the way you look at her that you don’t like her.”

I scoff, trying desperately to play off his comment. Was I that obvious? Or does he just know me that well? Wait, he was watching me? I decide him being drunk isn’t the time to figure out any answers. I slump my body next to him with a sigh. “You know, you’re better than this, Miles. Better than getting wasted and hanging out with people like Levi. Better than making out with random girls at parties.”

He turns his head to look at me, his eyes a little clearer now that he’s out in the fresh air, but there’s a darkness lurking there. One he tries to hide, but I always see it. “You have too much faith in me. You always have.”

I shake my head as my chest aches for him, unsure why it sounds like he’s undeserving of it. I want to reach out, take his hand again, but with the smallest of touches he’s already given me, my heart won’t cope. Instead, I shove my hands between my knees, keeping them lodged there as I whisper, “Then let me have faith in you. One day, you might see what I see.”

We sit on the bench in silence, the cool night air wrapping around us like a blanket. The distant hum of the party fades into the background, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a cricket. Miles closes his eyes, breathing deeply, as if trying to pull himself together. I watch him from the corner of my eye, my thoughts a jumbled mess. Maybe I said too much? Or not enough? I never know with him, because I don’t know where the line between us stops sometimes. It would be too easy for me to cross the line from friendship to girlfriend territory and not even realize it. I’m so clouded by my feelings toward him. But desperate is never a look I want Miles to see on me; he’s already too close to seeing too much anyway and he doesn’t even know it. I toe the line every day, but it’s worth it for moments with him, and that’s all I’ll let myself have.

I shift my weight, releasing my hands and flattening them on the bench, feeling the cool wood beneath my palms. His hand instantly brushes against the side of mine again, and for a moment, everything else melts away. He opens his eyes and meets my gaze, holding it for a long, quiet moment. Then, with a tenderness that squeezes my poor, desperate heart, he links his pinky finger on top of mine.

“Quinn,” he says softly, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything,” he mutters, his eyes still on mine, still a little glassy. “For being an idiot.”

I nudge my shoulder to his, feeling lighter. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re my best friend then, because I sort of love you, you big idiot.”

“Love you too, Queenie.”

I force a smile because if I don’t put my mask on, I might break down into tears. He might love me, but he doesn’t love me the way I love him.

Bumping his shoulder into mine, I offer up a slightly watery smile. Then he lifts his hand for the fist bump we’ve been doing since we were eight years old.

“First down.”

I gently tap my fist against his, biting the inside of my cheek to stop my eyes from filling. “All the way.”