Page 22 of Seven Lost Summers
Quinn doesn’t flinch.
She stares him down like he’s gum on her fucking shoe. Her voice is calm, but sharp enough to draw blood.
“Aww, still pissed I wouldn’t blow you in the janitor’s closet freshman year?” She steps closer, smirking now, like she’s enjoying twisting the knife. “Here’s the thing, Jared. I don’t fuck boys who jerk off to their own highlight reel.”
I fucking smirk.
Quinn Thomas… a goddamn storm packed into five feet of fury. All fire and razor-wire, mouthy and mean, and tougher than every dick-swinging asshole in this school combined. Step into her space and you don’t walk away clean. You crawl.
Jared stumbles, ego limping, face twitching as he tries to recover. He opens his mouth and I already know it’s about to be some weak-ass attempt to flip the script.
“I wasn’t talking to you, you frigid bitch,” he snaps, voice loud and bitter, throwing it out for the crowd. “I’m interested in your friend.”
The new girl stands up, slow, as if she’s not in a rush for anyone.
Jared’s eyes snap to her, zeroing in like she’s prey.
She turns to Quinn, voice casual, but her grin is lethal.
“So this is the guy? The one with the walking ego and the limp dick?”
A tiny laugh slips out before I can stop myself.
The room holds its breath, waiting to see whether he’ll swing or crumble. But fuck, the whole thing is almost art—watching them strip him down with nothing but words. No fists. Only sharp fucking wit and a glare that could slice through steel.
Jared’s face cracks. That cocky grin slips, ego shattering right in front of us. I don’t even try to hide the satisfaction curling in my chest.
Quinn and the new girl laugh. It’s not sweet its fucking savage. A laugh that slices straight through pride and leaves his ego bleeding on the floor.
The new girl turns back to Jared, not even trying to soften the blow.
“Yeah, so no, I’m not interested.”
Jared’s face twists. That cocky mask slips, all desperate eyes and bruised ego trying to find solid ground.
“Fuck you,” he snaps, voice cracking under the weight of every eye on him.
Quinn steps up.
“Please. You couldn’t get a girl wet in a fucking thunderstorm.”
The new girl smiles, all teeth and venom.
“Poor thing’s probably confused, his dick must be still buffering.”
The room fucking explodes.
Laughter, gasps, chairs scraping. Jared’s done. Burnt to ash before he even knew he was on fire.
I flick my gaze to Nate. He’s watching too, a smirk dragging slowly across his face. He’s enjoying this fucking shitstorm as well, drinking in every second of it.
Nate turns his head, his stare catching mine and for the first time, I can’t read him. That quiet thread that’s always tethered us is gone—fraying, splitting.
She’s already between us and we don’t even know her fucking name.
That thought alone guts me. Because if this goes the way I think it will, if we both keep slipping deeper, I’m not just gonna lose the girl. I’ll lose him too.
The one constant I’ve always had. The only person who’s never walked the fuck away.
