Page 7 of Fast Break
“Well in that case I will,” I say, feeling my usually reliable confidence make a belated hoorah.
Quinn has a proper coffee machine, a cute Smeg one all dressed up in black and chrome and looking really intimidating. But Quinn knows his way around the machine and my mouth dries out as he grinds the beans and runs them through the machine. His hands are confident, and my eyes fix on the strong veins in them and I feel something throb.
He hands me a cup when he is done and I try not to flinch when his fingers touch me. I mean, it’s just fingers. Fingers that belong to Quinn, but still.
“You ready to go up?” Quinn asks and I just nod, words evaporated again. He grins at me and then leads the way, and I try so hard not to dip my eyes down his body as he walks up the stairs just above me. I am not successful in my endeavours, but I gave it my best shot and I think that’s what counts. At least that is what Coach Vizard says when he’s in a generous mood.
Quinn opens a door to the right of the landing and I follow, my heart spinning into overdrive when I find myself in his bedroom. I mean, of course we’re in his bedroom. Where else would we be? Not like I expected a dedicated study or a separate library or something.
But still, I can’t help my eyes fixating on the spacious bed that takes up the right side of the room, a luxurious soft blue quilt covering where he obviously sleeps. I feel my cheeks start to heat as I imagine him there and then pull myself together to find Quinn looking at me, a curious expression on his face.
“Your room?” I say, only clever comments allowed here.
“Yep,” he just grins, wedging his hands into his pockets. My eyes follow the movement and, oh now look, I’m staring at his crotch. I choke on my coffee.
“It’s nice,” I stutter, eyes watering.
“Thank you. Do you want to set up over here?” Quinn continues, making me I realise there is more to his room than just his bed as I discover the large corner desk built into the wall. There’s a door along the wall there too and I take a peek to see a nice, bright bathroom behind it.
“You have your own bathroom?” I ask, manners forgotten as I wander in for a closer look. Quinn must be really neat because his bathroom is super clean, a nice space in whites and greys and wooden cabinets.
“I do,” he replies. “It’s just me and my mum so we both get our own. Hers is better.”
“Wow. I have to share a bathroom with five people,” I tell him, not sure why.
Quinn doesn’t reply and I am aware he is watching me as I sip on my coffee, taking in his really nice space. It’s so quiet here which is something I’m not used to with the slightly chaotic state my house is always in. Don’t get me wrong, I love my little brother and sister, but I wouldn’t mind a bit of peace and quiet every now and then. I also struggle with the constant stream of strangers in our house, but I wouldn’t dare raise that at home either.
“Suppose we better get started then, hey?” I finally say, moving closer to Quinn and the desk he is standing in front of. He has two chairs up here but one looks out of place and I wonder if he brought that one up just for me. My heart warms at the thought.
“Suppose so,” Quinn agrees. He takes a seat, and I slide into the vacant one, trying not to knock into him as I do. “Have you had any thoughts about how you want to do this?”
I pull my laptop out, realising that’s something I should have been doing but I had been too focused on coming to Quinn’s house to actually think about why I was going.
“Ah, no, not really.”
“That’s okay,” he says. “I’ve written down a few dot points about how we can start the project. I hope that’s okay.”
“Absolutely okay,” I reply, hoping he ignores my weirdly enthusiastic response.
Quinn grins again, that lopsided smile that does funny things to my stomach, and I wriggle in my seat. He opens a document on his laptop, and I have to shift my seat a little closer, entirely too aware of him as I lean in to read.
He starts talking through his dot points—which are a lot more like a complete project plan than anything else—and it’s right then that I start to feel my inadequacies rise up. Quinn has carved the project up into a six-step plan covering an introduction to biomass, a research phase, a data collection phase, analysis on efficiencies, costs and environmental impact, and a basic outline for our class presentation. I feel completely at a loss.
“Wow. Um, okay that’s … wow,” I hear myself saying. “You’re um, you’re pretty smart huh?”
Quinn huffs out a laugh, his knee knocking into mine. I don’t move away because he is the one who knocked into me so I don’t feel responsible for that.
“I’m just kind of enthused about renewable energy,” he admits with a modest shrug. “I haven’t narrowed our research topic down yet as I wanted to wait for you before doing that.”
“Okay but I feel like you’ve got some ideas up in that brilliant head of yours so let’s hear it.”
His knee is still pressed up to mine and I admit it is short circuiting my brain a little bit which is worrisome as I know I need to be at my best here with Quinn.
“What are your thoughts on algae?”
“Algae?”
“Yeah, algae,” Quinn repeats. He pulls the laptop closer towards him and clicks on a page, bringing up a neat diagram on how algae can be converted into renewable fuels. I love a good diagram so I lean in, nodding my head as Quinn walks through the process and the way we could focus on this for our research. He is calm but enthusiastic and I already love this idea.
