QUINN

I hate Skylar Lewis.

How did she have the nerve to do the horizontal tango with another man and then blame Cash for her own idiocy? And why did he let things go on for so long? There has to be some kind of reason that he accepted her words as the truth.

I'm in no place to judge, though. Even when I saw Ethan at the club with Skylar, I stayed for another week. And he's the one who broke up with me. I mean, I avoided him in school and dodged all his texts afterwards, but I made no move to verbally break things off.

Honestly, I was scared he'd be mad at me for ending it. Friends are hard to come by and Ethan was my friend before we dated. I didn't want to lose him, so I avoided it all together. I guess maybe I thought it would just go away. I wonder if Cassius was in the same mindset.

"How long did you stay after you found out she was cheating on you?"

"That's two questions."

Damn it. I was hoping he'd forget that stupid rule by now.

"My turn." He says after clearing his throat.

Okay. I can do this! He doesn't know enough about my life to ask me anything too personal, which means I'm safe from having to participate in one of those mind-breaking conversations I try so hard to fend off.

"How did you trick Billy into letting you in the club?"

"Trick him? I didn't trick him. He just let me in when I was wandering around outside one night."

I'm a little offended he'd think I would pull one over on Billy. I guess all the fake IDs look bad, but Billy insisted I have them just in case the bartenders or security guards decided to doublecheck. And, of course, Cash seemed to always check my shit.

"He just...let you in?" He questions with skepticism.

"Uh, yeah? That's what I said. Try to keep up here, Cash." I pat his arm, sympathizing with his slow brain. It must be hard to have such delayed comprehension all the time.

"And why did he just let you in without ID?"

Technically, that's two questions. But technically, I broke my own rule first, supplying him a vague answer that left him with more questions. Which means I need to figure out how to structure my answer without saying too much.

Why did he let me in when I was underage?

Because I was running from the situation taking place at my apartment.

Because, when I tripped over a rock in that alley – it was a big rock! – I tumbled to the ground and skinned my knee.

Because when Billy went out back to smoke, I was crying next to a dumpster, holding the rock in my hand to keep it from attacking again.

Because my face was a mess of streaked mascara from crying thanks to the fight I had with Hunter. Because my shirt was ripped up from where one of his friends grabbed me.

That dumpster I sat next to was clean compared to other dumpsters I've lurked around. It didn't smell like vomit and spoiled cheese. It was a nice, pretty blue. I named it Doug. Doug the Dumpster and I were having a very serious conversation about life when Billy interrupted.

He tried to shoo me away with his foot, thinking I was a crazy homeless person. But when he saw my hair and my clothes and my face, he sat right next to me on that gross cobblestone ground.

I didn't tell him everything that happened or much of what was going on in my world, but based on the little I did tell him, he seemed to grasp the general idea.

But I can't tell Cassius any of this because then he'll know. He'll know that I've been intentionally hanging around him since I was eighteen. That I sought him out every time I was at the club. That our first string of random encounters wasn't so random after all.

Well, I didn't intend to get kicked out all those times, but I did mean to stay close to Cash when we were at the club. Billy told me to. Well, he told me to stick by the 'big dude that looks pissed off at everything'.

At first, I thought he might be referring to Silas. When I realized Silas usually only works on fight nights, I knew it must be the other security guard. Thank goodness because that man terrifies me. He won't talk to me. What kind of a maniac doesn't speak?!

Anyway, Billy told me that as long as that big pissed off dude was working, I'd be safe at Shadow. So, I lingered near him every time I went there for the entire first year. He was a safety blanket in a time of intense paranoia and fear. During a time where I was hiding from Hunter every single weekend.

And Billy was right. No matter what I got myself into, Mr. Tightass always got me out of it. Even when it ended in him kicking me out, nothing bad ever happened to me inside that building. That still holds true to this day.

I guess that's why I'm kind of protective over big ol' Cash-Money. When I desperately needed to escape, I could run to Shadow and just...be me. I always imagined him as this big invincible knight, guarding his castle. And as long as I'm behind the castle walls, he's got my back.

So, the fact that Skylar-bitchface-Lewis screwed him over makes me want to kill her. No. Just cause serious bodily injury. And maybe she'll die as a result of said injury. Ugh, no. Calm down, Quinn.

Well, I'm not going to tell Cash any of this because I don't want him to think I'm weird. Or a stalker. Or worse...a weird stalker.

"Billy knew –" No, Quinn. Don't lie. You're better than that. "I wore him down."

That's not a lie. When I kept dragging Dumpster Doug into our conversation, I think he started getting worried for some reason. I could see it in his face. He couldn't handle it anymore. Doug was so supportive though, always backing me up when Billy asked the hard questions.

"I can see that." Cash muses, his lips twisting up in a grin.

Okay. My brain is going downhill. No emotional conversations. Must avoid at all costs.

"You know what would make this coffee better!?" I exclaim, ready for a subject change.

"Please don't say a shot of espresso." Cash groans.

"Close. A shot of Baileys!"

I rip my hand out of his, forgetting I was even holding it to begin with. Running to the kitchen, I grab the liquor and hastily return to pour some in both of our cups. He appears surprisingly happy about the alcohol and abrupt change of topic.

As soon as the commercials end, we're glued to the investigation again. This grandma is seriously sketching me out. She keeps doing suspicious things. Like, who pees that much? How many bathroom breaks does this woman need? That's what adult diapers are for!

I should invest in some of those just in case I ever get into a situation where I can't get up to go pee. Like if I get kidnapped or if a really good show is on.

And why does she breathe so much? That poor oxygen tank has seen more action than Skylar's mouth.

What do an oxygen tank and Skylar Lewis have in common? They both blow, that's what.

I start snickering to myself and Cash immediately smiles. Does he know what I'm thinking in my head? That's so terrifying. Don't listen to me, Cassius!

I watch his face, trying to see if he reacts to my inner monologue. But that son-of-a-whore just has the same blank expression as always. Sorry Cash's mom, you're probably a very proper lady. I didn't mean to call you a whore.

But maybe you could have taught your son like, two more facial expressions, maybe? Just two. I'm not asking for the world here! I decide to just ask since his face isn't giving anything away.

"Are you listening to me?" I ask, offended.

His features twist into something that resembles equal parts concern and defensiveness.

"What? Were you saying something?"

Oh, you wanna play it like that, Cash? I'm not falling for his charade. He was totally listening to me. I give him the evil eye, waiting for him to fess up.

"You know what I was saying, don't you?" Let the interrogation begin, mothersucker!

"I'm sorry. I... I guess I spaced out or something because I really didn't hear you say anything."

"Suuuure. That's what you'd like me to think, isn't it?"

"Quinn...maybe you should ease off the alcohol tonight, yeah? You're not making any sense." His brows turn down, mimicking the frown on his lips.

"Blaming the alcohol, huh? Typical."

I hear a rumble in his chest, and it sounds quite a bit like frustration. Busted!

Right when I think he's about to confess to his crimes of espionage, he pulls me into his side instead. If he's trying to distract me, it's not going to work! Well, it's only partially working. Against my better judgement, I lean into the sexy spy sitting next to me.

A long yawn works its way up as I sink into his muscles, becoming one with his flesh. My eyes feel heavy right away and now I'm wondering if he's got some kind of superpower that puts people to sleep. I think there's a Pokémon with that ability.

Jigglepuss? Puffyflaps? Something like that.

"Gotta catch 'em all." I start to quietly sing the Pokémon theme song.

"Catch who?" I hear him whisper. He sounds like he's about to pass out too.

"The Jigglyflaps. Gotta catch 'em all."

"Oh, okay. Hope you catch it." He mumbles, his hand stroking up and down my arm.

"Thank you, Cash. For everything. You don't suck as much as I thought you would."

Those are the last words that leave my mouth before the world goes dark.