Page 60 of Fragile

I lean toward him, looking over the notes he’s taking. “Wow, you really are serious about declaring your degree, huh?”

“Your dad convinced me at the end of freshman year. Figured it would be a good fall back.”

My eyebrows raise, but in reality, I’m not that surprised at that piece of information. My dad is a planner by nature, and he always helps those he loves. “My dad’s right, but if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it.”

He snuffs a laugh. “Secret is safe with me. Now get studying, Queenie. I want ice cream soon, and you’re not finished.”

I turn back to my almost empty notes page and decide to get to work as fast as I can. Writing an essay outline for my child psych health and wellbeing core credit. It actually should be easy to focus on because I’m using something I love as the core part of the essay. The baking class I teach at the shelter is my perfect example in how artistic therapies that are planned and consistent can positively impact mental health.

My phone buzzing breaks my focus. Opening it, I see a voicemail from Indie. I slip in my headphones and press play.

“Hey, just checking in. I feel like I’ve barely seen you this week with my music practice and yourthing,” she says, and I immediately know she’s talking about Miles. “Anyway, I know I said the less I know the better, but I decided I want details because you’re my best friend and my life is dull without you. Boys take up too much of our time. Girls’ night soon?” she asks before pausing and adding, “Ugh, I sound gross and needy. Anyway, let me know. Bye!”

I hang up with a big smile on my face and shoot her a text, pocketing my earbuds again.

Quinn

Are you home tonight? I’ll be back around seven if you want to grab dinner x

A loud grumble erupts from Miles’s stomach. “Yeah, I’m starving, you all done?” he asks, looking over at me with those brown eyes of his.

“I’m done, too. But I can’t do dinner. Indie wants a girl’s night.”

He pouts. “I guess she can have you for one night.” Then he winks before adding, “Now let’s go get you your double chocolate brownie ice cream with salted caramel sauce and put you into a sugar coma.”

I smile widely, looking up at him like he hung the moon for me. How can I not be in love with him when he knows my ice cream order by heart?

Chapter twenty-eight

Miles

“We’re going to belate. Move your butt, Cooper!” Quinn rushes as she power-walks across the street toward the local shelter. Her ankle has been assessed by her head cheer coach, and she’s practically back to normal already. It’s been eleven days; she’s bionic to have that kind of healing speed.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

I’m not really that sorry. The reason we’re late is because I spent an extra ten minutes after class kissing her like we hadn’t seen each other in days. Except it hasn’t been days. It’s been maybe twenty hours since I left her.

“Watching you shake that cute ass in front of my face is making us being late so worth it, by the way.”

“Miles!” she chastises and covers her butt with her hands.

“Oh no, you don’t. I want to see the goods,” I tease, chasing after her.

“I’m walking faster to get away from you.” She hurries along, and I laugh, catching up to her and pulling her to a stop, resting my mouth just below her ear, feeling the ripples of a shudderbegin as her body fits against mine. “Here I thought you were running so I could catch you.”

“Miles,” she whispers breathlessly, and my body responds to her need.

“Queenie,” I purr right back, nibbling on her earlobe. God, she even tastes like cinnamon. It’s intoxicating.

“We need to… We should… I mean…”

“Speechless again? Imagine that.”

Her elbow swiftly, but gently, juts into my gut as she pushes away from me. “I’m never speechless, just tongue tied. Now move it, Cooper.” She claps her hands twice to emphasize her impatience, and I follow behind her like a lost puppy. Except with her, I’ve never felt lost. Instead, I’ve always felt seen. And I’m pretty sure I’d follow her anywhere.

She swings the door open with ease, and as soon as she’s inside, a woman with light gray hair is waiting for her in the small foyer covered in green plants, giant ones with huge leaves. She’s petite, with a round, kind face framed by wisps of soft, silver hair. Dressed in a floral blouse and a pair of faded jeans, she exudes warmth. Her hands move with an effortless dexterity as she tends to the plants around her.

“Quinn, my dear!” the woman exclaims, her voice sweet and melodic. She steps forward, enveloping Quinn in a quick, affectionate hug.

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