Page 51 of Enemy Crush
“Don’t worry about it,” I said.
“I must’ve forgotten to transfer it,” she said, losing her breath as if she’d been out running. “I can pay you back when I get the money through.”
Her face looked flushed and heated and my stomach knotted, feeling Quinn’s embarrassment with her. It was a horrible feeling, an anguish that tore at me, like Quinn’s shame was my own. And I hated that for her.
“Sure,” I said with a casual shrug, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, and we stood in awkward silence as we waited for our food.
“There you go,” Bree said with a fake kindness. I stepped up and took both coffee cups, handing one to Quinn before grabbing the bag of cinnamon rolls. “Thank you.”
I didn’t respond, silently vowing I’d never buy a thing from her again. I’d never forgive her for being rude to Quinn.
“Thanks,” Quinn said as we walked back toward the stand. I gave a chin lift, but didn’t say anything knowing she’d want to forget about it as soon as possible.
But I didn’t want it to be weird, and now probably wasn’t a good time to mention her prep school friends, so I pointed to her bag. “Hey, you gotta thing for those squishy toys? What’s that one supposed to be?”
Quinn squeezed it between her fingers and seemed grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, I do. This is Cornelias. He’s a cob of corn.”
“Cornelias. Ha ha,” I said with a light laugh. “He got a story? Like Stanley the Panda?”
She continued to hold the toy with a firm grip, but her eyes lit up. “He does actually. He likes to lend a helping hand. No task is too big or too small for Cornelias.”
“Sounds kindacorny,” I said, hoping she saw my attempt at a joke.
There was a chilling pause of silence where I thought I’d blown it, but her lips curled up as a giggle escaped, “Yeah, he is a little corny. But he’s ah-maize-ing.”
It took me a full second to appreciate her pun. “Ahh, you got me there,” I said with a nod.
She gave me a sideways glance but I saw the smile on her face.
“Oooh, I see you found it,” Shayla beamed when we returned. “Why don’t you sit by the truck and eat? I’m good here for the time being.”
“Are you sure?” Quinn asked.
But Shayla shooed us away. There were currently no customers and the potato bags were well stocked. “Go and enjoy.”
The smooth, creamy coffee was unexpectedly nice, especially since I made fun of Elise, Darwin and Sierra for ordering lattes and cappuccinos. Brayden and I were strictly filtered coffee drinkers, no sugar or cream. Dad drank his coffee black, too.
We sat in the back of the truck, sipping our drinks and Quinn broke off a piece of her bun and chewed it. I didn’t want to bring up the card situation or her encounter with her friends, but I was naturally curious about it. I could still remember the time, years ago, when we’d been in the grocery store with Dad and he’d had to put back a bag of shredded cheese because he didn’t have enough money with him. Dinner had literally been a hot dog in a bun with no cheese or ketchup.
“Thanks for doing that,” she said. “I’ll get some cash and pay you back.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” I said, projecting nonchalance but deep down it hit hard that I’d spent double what I’d expected to. That was reality when you lived on a budget, where every penny counted. Being a one income family wasn’t easy and Dad worked and saved hard, teaching us not to be frivolous with money. Lattes and fashion were frivolous according to Dad, as were non-essential little soft toys that you clipped to your bag.
I took a gulp of my drink and wiped my hand across my mouth. Quinn was holding the cinnamon roll bag toward me.
I shook my head. “I’ll save mine for Mason,” I said. “He loves cinnamon rolls.”
Quinn’s brow furrowed but then she tore the remainder of her roll in half and passed one piece to me. “Here, I’ll never finish this,” she said.
In that second, as my fingers took the roll from her, my chest surged. Quinn’s gaze fixed on me, the burn of her brilliant blueeyes a jumpstart to my heart, because it felt like she was seeing me,looking at mefor the very first time.
And she didn’t turn away, not even when the roll was firmly in my grip. There was a moment of madness when I wanted to toss the roll aside and take her face in my hands and kiss her full pink lips and tell her she was the most beautiful girl in the world and...
I moved a fraction, leaning forward, our shoulders on the verge of—
Shayla’s call interrupted whatever might have come next. “Quinnnnn? Can I get some assistance here please?”
And in a flash, she was gone, leaving me alone with my cinnamon roll.
