“I…”
“Is it that hard to imagine?”
“Yeah.” I turn away from him. It’s the only way I can manage a proper inhale. This… I… He… “I don’t think you get it, Wes. You know Harry Potter, how he’s the only one who can defeat Voldemort, how it’s his destiny?”
“You watch Harry Potter?”
“Not really the point.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Do you know?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“That’s what it’s like being a Thorn. I’ve known since I was old enough to understand. I’m going to be a doctor.”
“But do you want to be a doctor?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does.”
“If I wasn’t…” I swallow hard. God, it’s so hot. And dry. And the air is suffocating.
I swing my backpack off my shoulder. Reach for my bottle. But it’s under something.
I set it on the ground.
Paw through makeup, sweaters, books.
There.
I pull out my water bottle and suck down a sip.
It’s not refreshing.
Or soothing.
Or comforting.
“What if you did something else?” he asks.
“I… what would I do?”
“Whatever you want.”
That’s ridiculous. “This is what I’m doing.”
“But is it what you want?”
“That doesn’t matter,” I say.
“Yeah it does.”
I shake my head.
“There’s not a genocidal maniac who’s going to kill every human in the world if you fail to become a doctor.”
“But…”
“Quinn, I—”
“You think you know what’s best for me?”
“No,” he says.
“Then what?”
“Every time you bring up medicine, you cringe.”
“I do not.” I fight a frown.
“You just did.”
I shake my head.
He nods. “If it’s what you want, then I want it for you. But is it? Do you actually want to be a doctor?”
Chapter Thirty
Wes
“Fuck you.” Quinn’s eyes narrow. “You don’t get to do this.”
I step backward. My heels make contact with the dirt, but the ground isn’t steady.
“You don’t get to ask me what I’m doing with my life.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” Her chest heaves with her inhale. “My future is mine. Not yours.”
“I know.”
“Have you changed your mind?”
“What?”
She presses her sunglasses up her nose. “Have you changed your mind about this being casual?”
Fuck, there’s a long answer for that. But if I have to narrow it down to yes or no? “I know where we stand.”
“No, Wes, you don’t. You’re acting like my boyfriend.”
“I care.”
“Exactly.” She steps backward. Turns in the direction of the car. “You know what, I’m going to catch a ride.”
“We’re in the hills.”
“I can call a ride share.”
“Quinn—”
“Don’t.”
What the fuck?
She stops in her tracks. Turns back to face me. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
Yeah, but I can’t offer her that.
“Then stop acting like one.”
“But—”
“No. No fucking buts. If you don’t want more, if you don’t want this to become something, then stop acting like my fucking boyfriend.”
“Quinn.”
“Maybe this is easy for you. But it’s not easy for me. I’m falling for you. I don’t want to fall for you. I leave in two weeks. So unless you’re ready to ask me to stay or offer to go to Chicago with me, stop.”
I swallow hard. “Okay.” I motion to the Hollywood sign in front of us. “Are you really going to leave?”
“I don’t know.” She takes off her sunglasses. Rubs her temples with her thumbs. “Can we… Maybe we need a few days.”
No. I only have ten days with her. “I’ll be good.”
Her lips curl into a frown. “No… I need to… I need to go.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
Her gaze shifts to me for a second. She studies my expression. She must decide I’m worth trusting, because she nods okay.
I turn back toward the car.
She follows two paces behind me.
We’re quiet the entire walk.
I know where we are, but I’m still fucking lost.
On the drive home, I change the subject to our most recent classic film, Bringing Up Baby.
But it lingers in the air.
Our awkward inability to manage our feelings.
She turns the music up. Leans into her seat. Loses herself in a catchy melody.
For half an hour, everything is okay.
Until it’s not.
It’s really fucking not.
Chapter Thirty-One
Wes
I pull the car up to Quinn’s apartment.
The stereo cuts off.
A familiar melody fills the car.
Chase.
“Wes, I…” Quinn presses her lips together. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod as I pick up my cell.
She nods back, but she doesn’t move.
She stays in the passenger seat.
I look at her for a split second. There’s all this concern in her hazel eyes.
She cares.
More than she should.
And so do I.
This is it.
Where we cut and run.
Where I lay down the law. You’re right. I’m not your boyfriend. I can’t keep acting like your boyfriend. I can’t do this, period.
But I can’t say shit.
The only thing I can do is answer my brother’s call.
I know before the words are out of his mouth.
I know this is completely fucked.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Quinn
Bright light streams through the window.
Afternoon light.
Beach light.
It’s beautiful.
But not with Wes sitting in the driver’s seat, phone pressed to his ear, back to me, shoulders slumped.
Even though he’s two feet away, I can’t make out his reaction.