Page 7 of 518 Hope Ave
My mouth was open ready to accept her invitation, but the moment she rescinds it, I frown and go back to sorting washing. “Don’t sweat it.”
I work quietly for a while, methodically separating the washing so I don’t accidentally turn the whites pink like I did a couple of years back. Lucas was so pissed that I’d ruined his Nike shirt. It was one of the few name-brand items he owned.
“So, where are your brother and sister?" Quinn's voice cuts through the silence I created.
"Ahhh.” I dump the whites in a machine as I swallow down my previous disappointment. I don’t really have many friends these days. Everyone I knew from before is either at college now or in the workforce. Some are even married with kids of their own. “Lucas is doing his homework, hopefully." I drop the darks in the machine next to it. "Cora is having a playdate at her friend Ginny's house. They're practicing for their life on Broadway, from what I've been told." I chuckle as I drop laundry detergent in with each load.
"She seems to love being on stage," she comments with a broad smile.
"Yeah, maybetoomuch." I sigh as I add fabric softener. "She's also kinda pissed at me for not being a mind reader and realizing that she'd rather go to drama camp than spend the summer on Wild Ridge like she normally does."
She smiles at me sympathetically. "The mind of an adolescent girl is complex. All those hormones."
I plop onto the bench in front of the machines and slump forward, elbows on my thighs, head drooping. "Yeah. I don't think I'm prepared."
I hear her scooch closer to me, and she places a hand on my shoulder. Electricity shoots throughout my body from the location of her touch. "For what it's worth, she isn't either. None of us ever are."
“How am I supposed to raise a teenage girl?” I blurt, holding my hands in front of me. I don’t know what it is about Quinn, but I just want to share things with her. She makes me feel like I might actually make it through this.
“By taking it one day at a time,” she says, giving my shoulder a squeeze before taking her hand away. I miss it immediately. “And a good place to start would be putting quarters in those machines so your laundry actually gets done.”
I laugh and get myself back up to my feet, stick in the appropriate amount of quarters and start them both up. “Lucky you caught that,” I say, plopping down next to her again. “That could have been embarrassing.”
She laughs. “I’m nothing if not an expert of the ins and outs of laundromat workings. Nanna was riddled with arthritis, so I’ve been coming here since I was fourteen to get the laundry done.”
“And I thought I had it bad.”
“It was neverbad,” she says as she leans against the back of her chair. “It was just…different. I had to grow up faster than most.”
“That’s how I feel too. Like I’m pushing forty, and everyone I knew at school is still partying or just being young. I feel like I skipped this really important part of my life and I’ll never have the chance to get it back.” My brow bunches and I shake my head, trying to stop the verbal diarrhea from spilling from my mouth. I’m unloading on her, and I don’t want to. “So, what’s this book you’re reading?” I ask, changing the subject and pointing to the facedown paperback on her lap.
“Oh.” She flips the cover over as she speaks. “It’sAll The Light We Cannot See. I think I've read it like six times since it came out, and it gets me here every time," she says, tapping a hand against her chest for emphasis. My eyes follow…boo-bies…and it takes every ounce of strength not to visibly gulp at the view in front of me.
“I was nuts for the Chronicles of Narnia in school,” I say, noting the crack in my voice as I tear my eyes away, my dick getting a little too much flow as my mind wanders where it doesn’t belong. “I reckon I read it a dozen times, even more after my parents…”
“I get it,” she says, placing her hand on mine. “And you’re not alone.”
I stare at her hand on mine. Soft, plump fingers against my thin, callused ones. I don't think I've ever known her as anything but curvy, but she's that kind of curvy that sets my blood on fire. Her oversized chest, the thickness of her waist, her voluptuous ass... She’s perfection wrapped in a bundle called Quinn.
And now I’m hard as a rock.
I pull my hand away and cross my legs in a way that hides my bulge.
"You know, I have an idea," she says after a moment of silence, pulling me out from the gutter of my thoughts. "If you're ever free on a Thursday, you should drop by the Secret Garden Bookstore for Book Club. We read all kinds of things, and this month we’re reading children's books and talking about them from an adult's perspective. And there’s always wine and food, so it’s just a bit of grown-up nerd fun."
By brows shoot up as I meet her beautiful blue eyes. “Are you calling me a nerd?”
She giggles. “I’m calling myself a nerd. But if the shoe fits…” She waggles her brows as she nudges me with my elbow. I laugh.
"Maybe when the kids are at camp," I reply, and she smiles.
“OK. Well, the offer is always there.”
7
Quinn
Beep, beep, beep, the dryer cries out, signaling the end of its cycle.
