Page 43 of Playboy For Hire

“It wasn’t a stick, it was abo, an ancient and venerable weapon. I won’t stand for any slander of him.”

“Ooh, touched a nerve, did I?”

“I’m just saying, it wasn’t just a stick.”

“Alright, alright, you win.”

I grinned and reached for the pillow and duvet. My hand brushed Quinn’s, and I swear, a little jolt of energy ran through me, like I’d shocked myself after rubbing my socks on the carpet. I shook my head. I must have been more tired than I thought.

“Well, um, good night, I guess,” Quinn said. “If you need anything, I’m just down the hall.”

“Yeah. Cool. Thanks again.” I was still wondering what had sent that feeling shooting through my body. It was unfamiliar—or maybe not unfamiliar, just something I hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t a bad feeling, exactly. I just wished I could figure out what it reminded me of. “See you in the morning, I guess.”

“See you then.”

Quinn left me in the living room. I stared at the couch, not moving. I was still trying to chase down that sensation. I’d touched Quinn’s hand and… Why was Molly’s face popping intomy mind? I hadn’t thought of Molly in a while. In fact, I tried not to think about her much.

Molly Markovitz was my last serious girlfriend. We’d been together for three months before she told me she didn’t think we were compatible in the long run. ‘Lives going in different directions,’ she’d called it, but I knew what she really meant. She was pre-med, and working to be a Rhodes scholar. She had her shit together. Meanwhile, I was barely scraping through school, even with the tutoring I was offered through soccer.

I wasn’t smart enough for her. That’s what she’d meant. And it was true. The guy she’d ended up dating was valedictorian of his graduating class last year. It made more sense for her to be with someone like him.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t devastated. Molly was the reason I’d given up on dating completely. It just wasn’t worth it. Everyone I fell for eventually realized they could do better. I was sick of getting my hopes up, only to have them crushed.

I shook my head, pushing thoughts of Molly out of my mind. I wasn’t going to figure anything out just standing there. I put the pillow against the arm of the sofa and laid the duvet along its length. I kicked off my shoes and, after a moment, my pants and button-up shirt too. I usually slept in just my boxers, but I’d leave my T-shirt on tonight. I was a guest, after all.

I lay down and told myself to go to sleep. I might not have to get up early tomorrow, but Quinn undoubtedly had work, so it wasn’t like I could sleep in. The best thing I could do for myself was to fall asleep quickly. But I couldn’t.

No matter how much I twisted and turned, I couldn’t get comfortable. Kicking the duvet off made me too cold. Pulling ittighter made me too hot. Trying to sleep on either side made my shoulders sore, and lying on my back just left me staring up at the ceiling, wondering why my brain wouldn’t shut off.

It wasn’t just Molly’s face I was seeing. It was Molly on a specific night. The first night I kissed her. I’d been so nervous, not sure she actually liked me. But I’d leaned in and kissed her right outside her dorm room, and the moment my lips touched hers, that same bolt of electricity flashed through me. The same one I’d felt just now touching…

My eyes went wide.

Surely it couldn’t mean the same thing. That didn’t make any sense. I definitely didn’t think of Quinn the same way as I thought about Molly. Definitely not.

Because wouldn’t I know, by now, if I were into guys? I was twenty-two. I’d been sexually active since high school. But always with women. Sure, I knew which guys I thought were hot, but that didn’t mean anything. I was just aware of their attractiveness. And sure, sometimes I pictured ripped dudes when I was working out, but that was just to motivate me to work harder.

It was the same as when I jacked off. Sometimes I pictured other guys, but it was always in a competitive way. To make the fantasy hotter, when the girl I was imagining picked me over the other dude. None of thatmeantanything.

I didn’t feel competitive with Quinn. And he also wasn’t what you’d call ripped. So he didn’t even fall into either one of those categories. And yet…

And yet.

Quinn’s face appeared in my mind. Quinn biting his lip. Those soft, kissable lips. Quinn flushing from embarrassment. The way he smiled when he wasn’t self-conscious for once. Quinn grinning, talking aboutbostonight.

Wasthatwhy I couldn’t sleep? Was Quinn the source of the energy humming through my body? It didn’t make any sense. I hadn’t felt anything extra special when I’d taken his hand at the bar tonight—but I’d also forgotten I was holding his hand, it had felt so natural.

And I couldn’t deny the electricity that shot through me when our fingers had brushed here in the living room.

Before I knew what I was doing, I stood up and started walking down the hall. I felt light-headed, and my stomach was tight and fluttery at the same time. I wasn’t sure if I was feeling fear or excitement or both. All I knew was that if I gave myself time to stop and think, I’d talk myself out of this.

And I didn’t want to talk myself out of it.

I reached Quinn’s bedroom door, raised my hand, and knocked.

8

QUINN

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