Page 15 of Levi

Me: See you there, girlfriend.

* * *

Doyou want to know what goes well with a stressful day? Whiskey.

An extremely stressful day? That requires lots of whiskey. Or whiskey and pussy, but that seems to be out of the question based on recent events.

The water might be a bit too murky for Quinn and me to enjoy that aspect of our friendship, even if she is easily the best fuck of my life.

I arrived at the hotel about fifteen minutes ago and waited out front for Quinn until it was close to eight. When it seemed like she might be running late, I decided to head inside and grab a table before it got too crowded. To my surprise, she was already sitting in a booth, drink in hand, and—thankfully—had another one waiting for me on the table.

As I walk over to her, I pass a table of guys I recognize from high school, two of them playing in the NHL as well—for the team in Knoxville.

This may be a hotel bar, but it’s pretty popular for a night out, even to locals. I wave as I pass by, but quickly look away, leaving no room for conversation. Right now, the only thing I want to do is figure out the mess I just got myself into with the cute blonde.

Sliding into the booth, I notice Quinn’s already finished her first drink. I can’t help but smirk, raising an eyebrow in mock judgment, earning me the middle finger in return. It’s cute, how she somehow looks innocent even while flipping me off with black nails—her go to.

Not that I remember or anything.

“Not judging, just surprised. I know you’re not a huge drinker.”

“Yeah, well, I’d say today calls for a bevvy. What do you think?” she snaps, her usually inviting eyes shooting daggers my way.

Laughing, I just shrug, passing her the one she ordered for me her way, seeming like she needs it more.

“Truthfully, Q, I’m not exactly sure what happened today.”

“Which part? The part where my uncle became your new coach? Or the part where my sister decided to be a complete twat?”

“Let’s start with option two. What the fuck was that all about?” I ask, just as the waitress comes over with a refill, obviously paying attention.

Glaring, she leans back in the booth, my first glass of whiskey in her hand, as she watches me.

“Are you asking as a friend or as her ex?”

“I think our situation today proved I’m only worried about my friend,” I say, watching her face soften just a touch. Thank fuck—the ice queen act was getting old. I’m too mentally exhausted to play games tonight.

“Fair. But it’s nothing, honestly. It’s just who she is to me. It’s frustrating, but there’s nothing I can do to change how she feels about me.”

“And how does she feel about you?” I ask, watching her eyes well up with tears. I can’t help but wonder how I ever got engaged to someone capable of hurting Quinn so badly.

“I think it's pretty obvious. She hates me,” Quinn says, her eyes going vacant as she stares off to the side, lost in thought.

“That's what you get from her behavior? That she hates you?”

Her eyes snap back to me. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Quinn, Ally has been jealous of you for years. I noticed it when I was…when she and I?—”

“When you two were what? Dating? Fucking? Engaged?” she quips. The hint of a smile on her lips tells me she's just giving me a hard time, but there's a sadness in her voice when she says those words, and I can tell it hurt.

As much as I want to be her hero, her savior, and to take away her pain, I'll bathe in her sadness if that’s the only way she’ll think about me. I'm too selfish to make it stop.

Which is why I’m agreeing to this stupid fake dating bullshit in the first place.

Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair. Her sass is already doing it for me—my cock is ready to play.

Down boy.

---