Page 8 of Quinn
QUINN
Jess’s uncontrollable laughter is not quite the reaction I was hoping for when I tell her about what happened at work today.
I scowl at my best friend. “I’m so glad my misery amuses you.”
She wipes at the tears in her eyes and starts to settle down. “What part was it?”
I mumble my response into my sangria glass.
“Which part? I couldn’t hear you.”
“The yacht scene,” I practically yell at her.
Her eyes go wide like she suddenly understands the full weight of embarrassment in this situation.
“Oh honey,” she says before choking back some residual laughter that she pretends is a cough.
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
I think about sitting outside with Evan. How he tried to make me laugh and feel better about everything that happened. He even volunteered to talk to Mason and explain about leaving early. The idea of talking to anyone in the office, even someone who didn’t witness my humiliation, still feels like too much. I'm just glad that it's Friday, and I have a few days before I have to go back in.
“It wasn’t all bad.”
I tell her about talking to Evan, and this perks up her interest. She's heard me talk about him before on several occasions.
“I told you that he’s into you.”
I shake my head. “He’s just trying to be nice.”
Jess laughs. “Guys don’t work that way. Most of the time, the head they are thinking with isn’t the one on their shoulders.”
I think about some of the things he said. He also has a hard time finding the right way to say what he's thinking but knows exactly what he wants.
My phone on the coffee table pings with a text alert.
EVAN: I've managed to find a substitute mode of transportation for tomorrow. Can I pick you up?
ME: Where are we going?
EVAN: I told you, it's a surprise. I had to turn in a few IOUs from Tyler to make this happen.
ME: Okay, now you have to tell me.
EVAN: Sorry, can’t do it.
EVAN: We all aren’t brooding billionaires. A guy like me needs to keep some air of mystery to impress the girl. Pick you up around 6?
I stare down at my phone. He's trying to impress me? I quickly type out the address as a response, trying to keep it cool and not putting what I really want: the dancing lady emoji about sixteen times.
“Is that him?” Jess asks.
I look up, the smile on my face telling her everything she needs to know. She sits back on the sofa and takes a sip of her sangria.
“I told you he was into you.”
* * *
The following evening, Evan is parked outside my building waiting for me. I had a hard time falling asleep last night trying to think of all the different places he would be taking me today.
