Page 51 of Fragile

The way his hand lingers in mine has what feels like a family of wild hummingbirds fluttering all over my skin, hellbent on making me break out in goosebumps for him. “I’m good,” I croak, watching the smile spread across his face.

“Your phone is here.” He picks it out of his pocket and places it on my bedside drawers. “And I’ll be fast.”

And then he’s gone, and my body is definitely a few degrees warmer.

I glance around my room, trying to distract myself from the tingling sensation he’s left on my knuckles and in my hand. I could hobble over to my laptop, get some work done for my assignment due next week in business. But I could also just lay my head for a second and rest.

Just as my head sinks into my pillow, my phone buzzes. Reaching to my bedside, I see a message from Indie.

Indie

Seb just told me you hurt yourself at practice today. Do I need to come and take care of you? Because I’m a great nurse, ask Seb.

Quinn

I’m not sure if you mean sexy nurse or actual nurse for him, but either way, I’m good. Miles has it covered.

Indie

I bet he does. I’d ask for details, but I feel like the less I know the better, especially because I’m keeping it all a secret.

Guilt rattles me as I stare at her message.

Quinn

I’m sorry, we’ll tell him soon. I’m just not quite sure how yet.

Or if I want to before we’ve had time together. It’s always been the three of us growing up, and now it’s changed. I want to be selfish for a little while. Exclusively selfish.

Indie

I don’t want you to tell him because of me. Take your time, figure out whatever it is. I’ll keep it in the vault x

I sigh in relief, because I know we should tell my brother, and we will. Soon.

Pulling open the drawer next to my bed, I search inside for a pot of Tylenol that should be there. “Come on, come on,” I mutter to myself while rooting through hair ties, claw clips, and condoms that are still in an unopened box, but better to be prepared than caught without, right? “I swear I had some.”

After one more sweep of the drawer, giving up seems inevitable. Glancing around the room, a hopeful look lands on Indie’s side; maybe she has some.

I try to put a little weight on my ankle and the pain shoots up my leg like a hot rod pressing against my skin. “Ouch, ouch.” I wince, taking a deep breath. “Okay, we can crawl. Crawling is good. Until the swelling goes down, we can crawl.”

Slowly managing to angle my leg so my ankle doesn’t touch the floor, I butt-shuffle over to Indie’s side. On route, I spot Miles’s gym bag strewn in the middle of the room, which is closer, and I know for a fact he keeps Tylenol and Aspirin in his bag. “Thank all the gods. Right, keep going. We can do this, Quinn,” I murmur, forcing my body to shift toward the bag.

Miles walks back in just as my fingers grasp the strap.

“I got the—” He stops dead in the doorway, holding something that looks like the same package as the ice pack from the stadium earlier. “What are you doing?”

Puffing my hair from my face, I look up at him, panting and awkwardly trying to keep my foot off the floor still. “Oh, y’know, trying to practice interpretive dance.”

He tilts his head, but a small smirk plays on his face. “And how’s that going for you?”

“Great, can’t you tell?” I laugh just as I lose my balance and land on my butt with a soft thud. “I tried to walk, but it hurt.”

He moves closer to me, looking down with his arms crossed. “And you couldn’t wait for me to come back and help?”

“No,” I huff. Waving him off, I slowly shift to my knees, elevating my foot behind me, the soft carpet brushing against my skin. “I’m an independent woman who can take care of herself.”

Granted, that statement would be much more convincing if I were on my two feet, hands on my hips, determined glare in my eyes, and not crawling around like a baby. But I’ll work with what I’ve got.

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