QUINN

If I were to tell you that Cash's laugh is the best sound ever, would you believe me? Because I would have thought that was the dumbest thing I ever heard up until I first experienced it.

It's better than the taste of sweet perfection that Oreos provide. And I would never put anything else above the cookies from the heavens. It would be sacrilegious. This sound, though? It's something else.

The first time, it was this throaty, chest rumbly thing and sometimes he blows air out of his nose in a quick huff. This is different.

Studying his features isn't an option right now. It's a requirement. The way his eyes crinkle at the edges and the curve of his lips is mesmerizing. I don't even give a damn about the window anymore.

In fact, it's probably not even his fault it broke. I'm well aware that this apartment has been out to get me ever since I allowed Hunter to defile its sanctity. It was bound to happen eventually.

As he swipes tears from his eyes, my fingers are curling, and my breaths are deep and heavy while I listen to the sound coming from his mouth. I don't know what's happening in my head anymore. It's filled with the most beautiful melody instead of racing thoughts.

When he goes to take a sip from his glass, he starts chuckling all over again, not able to complete the simple task of drinking. And now my fingernails are digging into my palms with such force that I'm sure they'll leave marks.

His gaze travels an intricate pathway to my face, and his laughter stops when he notices my expression.

"What's wrong?" His lip twitches up at the side, but not in a smiley kind of way.

"I just – I didn't – you're...laughing. Like, really laughing." Apparently, my brain has given up on the very important job of forming sentences.

"Yeah?" He seems as if he too is realizing my observation.

I nod and he smirks at me with those stupid, beautiful lips. Quinn, stop staring at his lips! Jeez, you friggin pervert. Nope, brain still refuses to cooperate.

Is it my imagination or is he staring at mine now, too? Is he leaning closer?

No, the room is probably shifting. I didn't see anything on the news about an earthquake, but sometimes they just miss these kinds of things. It makes more sense than the alternative, anyway.

I leap off the couch before my mind can play more tricks on me, but I end up tripping over my own foot. When I land on the floor, a pained groan climbs up my throat. My poor muscles still haven't fully recovered from the day the tree decided to throw me on the ground.

Cash kneels next to me, his hands hovering around my head like he doesn't know what to do.

"Are you okay?! Did you hit your head?" He questions frantically, examining my skull.

I guess his panic makes sense after spilling his guts about what happened with that guy. I wish Skylar's head would split open. I bet all kinds of weird things would spill out. Like sludge and rats. I can't imagine there's much else up there outside of that.

"I'm good, it's just more comfortable down here." I mumble through the pain, wincing with every word.

I let my eyes close as I breathe through the stinging sensations pulsing through my body. After a few minutes, I realize it's been silent for far too long. When I peek up at Cash, he's staring at my stomach...I think. My shirt has ridden up during the fall, leaving it exposed to the world.

"Did it grow fangs?" I joke...partially. Because if my stomach grew fangs, I'd really want to know. I touch that thing quite often.

"Quinn...why – why are you covered in bruises?" He sounds haunted by his own words.

"Huh?" I glance down and see the marks he's referring to.

"Did...did someone do this to you?" Now there's absolutely no emotion in his voice at all.

Maybe he's thinking this is Skylar 2.0 right now.

"I got thrown out of a tree." He doesn't appear to be satisfied with that answer. "Well, I jumped out of a tree and the ground wasn't very welcoming when I showed up. Hospitality just isn't the same here as it is in the south."

"Why were you in a tree?"

Why is this the common question?

"I was running from a beast."

His head cocks to the side and both of his eyebrows slant down as he finally looks at my face.

"A beast? Like a dog? Coyote? Elaborate, please."

"Umm...it was more like a bearaffe."

I can almost physically see the gears turning in his head and then he huffs out a small laugh.

"Me? You were running from me?"

"Bingo!" I yell, shoving my pointer finger in the air.

"Why? When was this?"

"Thursday, I think." I sigh, thinking back fondly on the memory. "I wasn't ready to talk to you."

Mama didn't raise no liar. Cash lets himself fall back on his butt so he's sitting next to me, his forearms draped over his knees.

"I guess that brings us back to the reason I came over here. Did I do something to piss you off?"

"No, of course not! I just – do you ever wonder if the moon gets sad?"

I feel like the moon is the most beautiful thing, but it's always confined to the hours of sleep. It deserves to be appreciated more. Why does the sun get all the credit for illuminating the sky when the moon shines just as bright?

It's just a different kind of bright.

"I've never thought about it, Quinn." He replies thoughtfully. "I think, if I were the moon, I'd be kind of sad that I had to miss out on all the good stuff."

His answer sounds too thought out, like it holds some kind of personal meaning to him. He takes the moon very seriously. But I'm genuinely curious and a little surprised he got distracted this easily. Suits me just fine!

"How so?"

"Well, think about it. At night, all you get to see is people getting fucked up, crime, silent streets. Once the sun steals the show, there's picnics and cookouts and families playing in the park. It would be depressing if you never got to see the beautiful things."

When he lays down on his back next to me, he scoots himself down so our heads are side by side. Warmth surges through me like boiling lava and my inner lobster comes out.

"I know one thing for sure, though. The moon got to see something really beautiful one night, a few years ago." The deep, low pitch of his voice raises the hair on my arms.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"It got to see a girl who was sad and desperate to escape. A girl who sat and talked to a dumpster like they were old friends. Anyone who gets to see that kind of vulnerability is lucky. It's the most beautiful thing life has to offer. So, maybe I don't feel that bad for the moon."

Are my eyes...watering?!

"I need to dust soon. I think all the little life particles are getting in my eyes. Are yours itchy too?"

"Yeah, Quinn. Sure." He agrees solemnly.

I knew it. It's been too long since I've done a deep clean of this place. Do I even own a little dusty device thing? I don't think so. I can steal one from my mama's house.

He's staring at me. I can see it from the corner of my dumb, watery eye.

"I think I need advice." His quiet whisper fills all the open space in my head as his eyes squint like he's trying to understand something.

Good! Now I don't have to come up with more distractions. My throat is tight – from all the dust – so I don't feel like rambling.

"Okay. I can do advice." I happily nod my head.

Cash's chest rises with a deep inhale, and I know this is going to be important. I need to focus.

"So, I know this girl. She's really annoying and strange, but she's a lot of fun. Interesting to be around, beautiful from the inside out. But she has a hard time opening up. It's not healthy and I want to help her. How can I get her to trust me?"

If it weren't for the annoying and strange bit, I'd think he's talking about me. But I already know a guy like him has tons of prospects.

"What's the girl's name?"

"Uhhh...Squinn?" He sounds confused.

I snort out a laugh. He is talking about me!

"Squinn, huh? Well, that's a stupid name!"

"You come up with a better one, then." He replies matter-of-factly, scowling at me.

Aw, he's trying really hard to convince me he likes me. Seems like a lot of work just to win a bet. Did we ever decide what the prize is?

Focus, Quinn.

"Well, if you want her to trust you, you just have to prove that you're worthy of it. It takes time. You can't just snap your fingers and expect someone to pour their heart out to you, Cash. People go through things that change them – which you know from personal experience – and sometimes, those things make it really hard to speak."

He props himself up on his elbow and rubs the pad of his thumb against my cheek.

The day has come. My body betrayed me. An actual tear was on my face before Cash eliminated it. It's just as bad as finding a spider crawling all over you like it owns your flesh.

I screech while jumping to my feet and smack at the spot the tear was located like it's an actual bug I need to exterminate. Code black! Code black! This can't happen!

I run to my bedroom just to realize I don't have a damn bedroom. Bathroom? Nope, no door. Why the hell did I do this to myself?!

I've always liked living in such a small space because my mind is already so big that I can't contain it. Small apartment means more control but now...now there's nowhere to go and I have no control and I can't escape the situation because I always run to Shadow to escape...because Cash is there...but Cash is here and he's supposed to protect me at Shadow but he's the one breaking through my skin right now and...no, this is just like last year...I can't breathe and there's nowhere to go this time and –

"Did you know it takes six to eight weeks for a broken leg to heal? If you would have broken your leg jumping out of that tree, you'd be screwed. You have a lot of stairs to get up to your apartment." Cash's voice is quiet as he speaks, staring at my floor, but it somehow booms through my ears.

I gasp for breath, like my thoughts alone robbed me of all the air in my lungs. When did he move from the floor to the couch? Why is he staring at his feet? No, at least he's not looking at me.

Wait, is that true? I didn't even think about that while I was jumping. I'd have to have little old Tanya help me and I doubt she'd be able to even make it halfway up those stairs. I need to think these things through next time I'm caught in that situation.

Oh god, Cash saw that salty little water bitch leave my eye, and he probably thinks I'm a psycho. Why is he talking about broken limbs right now?! I don't even –

"You know there are over fifty flavors of Oreos, right? How many have you tried?"

Fifty?! Why did I not know this?! Where can I find all these flavors? Why was this information withheld from me for so long? I feel like I've missed out on so much!

"Only...five. I had no idea..." I whisper, shuffling closer to the couch.

"Five? We need to fix this, ASAP. That's unacceptable, Quinn." He says seriously, shaking his head with disappointment. I'm disappointed too!

This is the best and worst snippet of knowledge I've ever heard.

"Where can we find all these flavors?" My words are shaky as I ease myself down next to him.

"I bet they have some hidden in a secret lab somewhere." He replies, the faintest smirk on his face.

I place our drinks on the floor and open the lid to the storage container table, pulling out a notebook and pen. My hands are still trembling, but it's not nearly as bad as it was a minute ago.

"We need to map this out if we're gonna do it right. We can't just infiltrate a government facility without a plan."

I click the end of the pen in and start drawing out what I imagine this secret lab to look like. Cash scoots closer to me, our knees touching, and points out each detail I may have missed. By the end of the night, we have a solid plan to break into this place and rob them of their cookie stash.

And the panic didn't consume my mind like it did last year. It was there...it was so close to stealing me. But it didn't. My eyes fixate on Cash's side profile as he stares down at our plan, scrutinizing it to make sure it's perfect.

He didn't let the darkness take me.