Page 45 of Fragile

They both turn to face me, but that damn hand stays in the danger zone. “Oh, hey, Miles,” Quinn says as she shrugs off his arm, pretending to adjust her dress in the process. “I didn’t see you come in.”

The relief is instant the moment I see his hand drop, and I try to read her face.

“Hey, man, how you doing?” Alex says causally, interrupting my perusal of Quinn, as though he didn’t hear my threat a second ago. “Crash any other dates lately?”

I turn my glare to him, my teeth still clamped together. He’s trying to be a smartass, and I know how I feel about what I just saw. I don’t want to make a scene. But I also can’t let him win. “Seems to be yours is the only one I enjoyed crashing,” I say, pulling Quinn into my side, throwing a territorial arm over her shoulder.

Alex’s eyes glitter with annoyance, glancing at my arm and back to me, and the unmistakable tic of his jaw has me suppressing a smirk. Until he looks down at Quinn with enough interest that makes a growl rumble deep in my chest. “You know,” he says, voice casual but deliberate, “we never did rearrange another date. How’s next Friday sound?”

Before Quinn can answer, the words are out of my mouth. “She’s busy.”

Her head snaps to me, and I can feel her glare even without looking.

“Oh, is she?” Alex arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, she is,” I say, and my tone leaves no room for argument.

Quinn shifts against me, clearing her throat. “Alex, could you grab me a water?” Her voice cuts through the tension, cool and composed, but she shrugs off my arm this time—and not as subtly.

Alex hesitates, eyes still glued to mine, then notices my arm drop. His smirk widens. “Sure,” he says, way too pleased with himself, before walking off.

The second we’re alone, I know I’ve screwed up. The noise of the party fades, leaving us in this bubble where it’s just us. Turning to see her face, my eyes trace the delicate curve of her lips, the freckles dusting her nose, and the piercing green of her eyes that seem to shine even in the low light. There’s a pullbetween us, magnetic, impossible to ignore. I don’t know how I ever managed to before.

“What was that about?” she asks, her voice sharp, but there’s no real heat in it.

I shrug, trying to play it off. “Guy stuff.”

She snorts and shifts slightly, but we’re still close enough that our arms brush, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I see the flicker of something more on her face, mirroring my own feelings. The air around us feels thick, laden with everything we’re not saying, everything I can’t seem to say. Like,I want you, don’t go home with him, pick me instead.

My hand itches to reach out, to bridge the gap between us, but I hesitate, not wanting to ruin her night, settling for a brush of my fingers against hers instead as I turn to face the room again. Her breath hitches, catching my attention once more, a flush blooming on her cheeks as she stares at me. She has to be feeling it too, right? Whatever this is between us.

Just then Alex returns, and his presence is like a bucket of ice-cold water. “Here you go,” he announces, handing her the unopened bottle.

“Thanks, Alex,” she murmurs, her voice a little too high, a little too forced.

The noise of the party echoes around us as we awkwardly stand together, my entire body tense, as though I’m anticipating a defensive move on the field.

“Wanna dance, Quinn?” Alex asks, and I scoff.

“Not a chance,” I snap, my body temperature spiking.

Without another word, I reach for Quinn’s hand, glancing behind me briefly to see my best friend too busy with his girl to notice what I’m about to do. My fingers thread through hers, and I grip firmly, tugging her to my side. She stumbles for a moment, her palm landing on my stomach, the contact searing through my shirt. But as I turn us both to move, her steps quicklyfall in sync with mine, and I pull her away from Alex, my jaw still clenched. The buzz of voices and music fades behind us, but I don’t stop until we’re far enough from the suffocating tension and heading to the hallway.

Away from him. Away from everything. I’ll deal with any fallout later, right now, I need her.

Because the only word I hear with each stomp of my feet ismine, mine, mine, mine.

Chapter twenty-one

Quinn

Miles drags me awayfrom the party, and I’m not usually one for the caveman effect. But this might be an exception. Seeing him all riled up over little old me, well, that gave me enough satisfaction to last a week, at least.

I’m trying so hard not to giggle at whatever just happened. “What was all that back there?”

His nostrils flare as he pushes the door to the hallway open, the gush of cooler air hitting us both in the face. But he doesn’t reply, his frustration evident in his purposeful strides as we pass my room and head to the stairwell.

The door slams against the wall with an echo in the empty space. He drops my hand and paces back and forth for a few seconds before I can’t take it anymore. “You looked mad when you came over to us.”

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