QUINN

I'm flattered, really. All of my exes have been varying levels of attractive, but I've never had someone like Cassius show interest in me before. Well, he's not actually interested. He's just confused and in pain and wants to prove a point. Because, unlike me, he believes in love. I can tell just by looking at him.

He loved Skylar and I'm guessing she broke his heart. That's why he kissed me. And holy hell that kiss was...wow. Why has nobody ever kissed me like that before. Anyway, he's broken.

It's a nice reminder of why I buried my heart. No good comes from handing it over to another human for safekeeping. We're destructive by nature, not meant to handle something that delicate.

Sometimes I feel like a squirrel, burying acorns to keep them safe from the other squirrels and predators. They go and dig them back up when they're ready to chow down. At least, I think that's why they do it. I'll have to look that up later. Anyway, instead of acorns, I do that with my internal organ. It's out of reach.

Maybe one day I'll be ready to retrieve it from beneath the dirt, but now is not that day and Cash is not the person I'd do it for. As lonely as it sounds, I don't think any day will be that day.

But, if I'm being honest, I feel bad for Cash. I think I remember what a broken heart feels like. When dad left, it felt awful. That's when I buried the heart. It's been so long that I can't really remember specifics, though.

And then, when Dylan died last year, it felt like the whole world stopped turning and my entire life was a hollow shell. I didn't want to live anymore, and I even thought about making that a reality one time. Maybe twice. But then I decided it was easier to just shut down instead.

Sometimes I can still remember parts and pieces of how it felt. If he's experiencing even a teeny bit of what I did those months before I went numb, I want to help him forget it because nobody deserves to feel that way.

"Will you walk me home?"

He looks surprised and unsure about my question.

"I have Oreos."

I throw the bait out there, luring him in. But he seems more confused than enticed. Well, that was unexpected. I really hope he's not another Oreo hater. I tap my chin with my finger, thinking up more suitable motives for him, just in case.

"Liquor, too. Yep, lots of liquor. I only have three channels but one of them is really cool. Sometimes. Well, it depends on the time of day. But I have Oreos!"

Ugh, I already told him about the Oreos. If he didn't care about the damn cookies the first time, he's not going to care about them twenty seconds later either.

"I love Oreos." He finally responds with the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

"Okay, let's go!"

I feel like a creeper again, trying to coax yet another man into my apartment. I'm either way too desperate for friends or way too desperate to make him feel better. But I'm only ever desperate to make my friends feel better. Does that mean Cash is my friend now?

Eh, those are problems to explore another day. Now is the time to lead Cash to my apartment like a serial killer, fatten him up with cookies, and loosen his tongue with more whiskey. I text Wyatt to let him know I'll hang out with him another time. Grabbing Cash's hand, I pull him behind me.

My apartment doesn't have a separate entrance from the shop, so I have to lead him through the main lobby. It's nearly pitch black, but I know the layout like the back of my hand. Right as I sway to the left, I suddenly realize that Cassius' height won't allow him to dodge the extra-large dildo suction cupped to the wall.

"Cash, watch out for –"

I turn just in time to see a silicone dick slap him in the face through the darkness. He rolls his head back, trying to escape the pink phallus.

"What the fuck was that?" He asks, sounding panicked.

"Never took a penis to the face before, I'm guessing." I whisper.

"What?!"

I ignore his bewilderment and continue to guide us through the jungle of dingdongs.

"Just stay crouched down and you should be safe."

"Safe. Right. I feel super safe after getting smacked in the face by a giant cock." He hisses out, sounding borderline manic.

"Don't be a baby." I mumble. "Believe it or not, those are the safest of predators in this room."

"What?!"

Oh, he's really losing it. He sounds terrified.

We make it to the staircase without another mishap and he all but bolts up the steps, nearly taking my door down when he slams against it. He must really want those Oreos.

Once we're inside, he quickly shuts the door and locks it, as if the penises will become sentient and come to haunt him in the middle of the night. I smile just thinking about it. How wonderful does that sound? Haunted by penises? I sigh dreamily and then realize he's staring at me with a concerned, yet terrified look.

"What the fuck are you thinking right now, Quinn?" He asks cautiously.

"Nothing, nothing." I say nonchalantly, waving my hand around to dismiss his question.

I rummage through the cabinet in the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of whiskey – the brand I've noticed him drinking from time to time – and grab two glasses. I fill both to the brim and lead him into the living room – bedroom – dining room combo. His eyes shift to each corner of my mansion, inspecting all my riches.

Do I feel embarrassed by my dungeon? Not really. Maybe a little. But it's not often that I bring anyone here. In fact, ever since I had to change the locks after the breakup with Hunter-the-English-TA, Wyatt is the only person who's been through that front door. Guess I kind of forgot how unappealing it might seem to outsiders.

After setting the cups down on the table – which is just a giant plastic storage container – I head to the bathroom.

"I have to pee." I announce, like he actually needs this information to survive life.

I pop a squat on the porcelain throne and let the river flow. It's so relaxing. I've had to pee since before the second fight started earlier but I knew the lines would be long. So, I just put my big girl panties on and held it. I glance up and remember something.

I don't have a door.

Please don't look. Please don't look. Pleaaaseee.

As if I mentally summoned him, his head slowly turns, and our eyes meet. His eyebrows shoot to the top of his forehead before he averts his gaze to the table in front of him.

"What the fuck, Quinn?!"

"Sorry! Shoulda warned you!"

"Ya think?" He fires back, shoving his forehead down into the palm of his hand, shaking it like he's disappointed.

After washing my hands, I plop down on the couch next to him like nothing happened. That's the best way to overcome embarrassment, in my experience. If it didn't happen, there's nothing to worry about!

My couch is small, so my knee is pushed against the outside of his thigh, but he's refusing to look at me. His hand must be really comfy because he's using it like a pillow to support the weight of his head.

"I have a TV." I say out loud, like he can't see the electronic box a few feet in front of us.

"The remote is pretty cool." I add, picking the block of plastic up off the table and showing him the yellow button that turns the TV on. "See?"

He shifts his head, peeking at the remote.

"Yep. Pretty cool."

I don't miss the sarcasm; I just choose not to acknowledge it.

"Yeah, I know. My remote is the only one I've ever seen with a yellow power button." I brag, not so humbly.

My finger tenderly strokes the colorful button before pushing it in. The TV powers on and there's some kind of documentary about murder on. Not ideal, but murder is just as interesting as anything else in the world. Besides, the other two channels are just news stations.

I sip my drink and notice he hasn't touched his yet. Maybe he wants those Oreos first.