Page 96 of The Best Part of Breaking Up

It wasn’t a sexy dream. I actually slept with Quentin. Thrice. It pains me to think about how many people would be thrilled to learn this secret. I allow him to pull me into the warm, clean smell of his embrace, and I momentarily melt against his chest.

“It’s my contacts,” I explain. “They’ve officially tapped out.”

“Ah,” he says. “You don’t have extras?”

“That was my last pair.”

“I can drive you to… an obgyn?”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“Aren’t they the ones who check your eyes? Ob… Op… something? I don’t know, I don’t wear glasses.”

“Optometrists?” I say, stretching out the word to include every syllable. A laugh bursts out of me. “It’s Sunday. On an island. There’s no way they’re open. And regardless, we don’t have time. We still have to find Teddy. And we have to drive home. And… oh god.”

Everything I have to do today comes at me in a rush. I lean against the counter like I’m going to be sick. Quentin eases me onto a barstool.

“They sell glasses at Treasure Trove, right? Beside the register.”

“Those are reading glasses, Quentin. Those aren’t Heidi-hasn’t-updated-her-prescription-in-over-a-year glasses.”

“How blind are you right now?”

“Um, like twenty-five percent?” I guess. Okay, maybe thirty-five. “I definitely can’t drive.”

He slides a cup of coffee in front of me. That, at least, I can see.

“I can drive,” he says easily.

“My car? Ha. No.”

“Seriously?” he laughs. “What choice do you have right now? Consider me your seeing eye dog.”

“Dogs do not drive cars,” I grumble, scorching my tongue for the second time this weekend. I wonder why Norma’s coffee pot is turned to boil.

He kneads my shoulders. They’re unnecessarily tense. He presses his thumb into the spot where I apparently hold my entire to-do list. My head lolls back against his chest, and a moan of a sigh escapes me. He drops his mouth to my ear, so that his words tingle down my neck.

“Dogs also don’t argue before breakfast.”

I tip my head back far enough that I can gaze up at him. In my current state, he doesn’t have his usual clean edges, but he’s handsome all the same. I try to think of something to say. It seems like I should have a lot to say, especially after last night, and maybe I do, but they’re not any of the things I expected.

My go-to lines are useless here. Last night was fun. I just want to keep things casual. I’m swamped with work right now; maybe we can catch up next week?

No. Last night was hot. I want to crawl back in bed with him and not emerge for weeks. I want to sink my teeth into his shoulder and claim him as mine. I couldn’t stay away from him for an entire week if I tried. And best of all, he knows I’m swamped with work, but so is he. Even better, he’s part of the excavation team, helping me tunnel my way out.

I’m trying to figure out how to formulate any of this into something coherent when Norma enters the kitchen. I tip myself upright like a teenager who’s been caught ogling her crush. I fuss with my hair, wondering if this thing between us looks as obvious as it feels.

“You two are up early,” she says. I hear but cannot see that secret tucked into her smile. “Especially for a couple of kids who stayed up all night.”

I can feel the innocent, smirky, sideways look Quentin is giving me, and I pretend to be suddenly engrossed with the contents of my mug. I take another scalding sip.

“We’ve got to get on the road soon,” he tells her. “It’s a long drive back.”

“Well I hope Santa Lucia was worth your while.”

“Thanks for your hospitality, Norma. And I hope you get that Blinding Lytes reunion album very, very soon.”

I eye him when she leaves the room. “Was that really necessary?”

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