QUINN

"Are you sure you're okay? You acted really weird in class the other day. And this morning."

I'd be okay if he'd just drop this conversation already. And why does everyone keep calling me weird? I'm a little different – mama said I was made special – but I think weird is a bit of a stretch.

And what is the appropriate way to react when someone is trying to speak to you about how they broke up with you? How does one respond when finding out your ex feels guilty for cheating on you? What does he expect from me?

A cookie? Chocolate chip, of course, because he doesn't like Oreos. An applause? Should I throw a parade and release a flock of doves? Bevy. A flock of doves is called a bevy. Doves wouldn't be very easy to find, though. Seagulls might work better because they're everywhere. Almost everywhere.

"Did you know there are no seagulls in Hawaii? Maybe I should move there. One time, a seagull stole my banana, and I was really hungry, so I tried to chase it. When it flew up above my head, it ended up pooping on my hair. I started throwing up all over the beach and –"

"Quinn, just talk to me, please. Seriously." His eyes are pleading and sad.

He's persistent and my gas tank is almost empty. I don't think I've got anything left. Does he really want my forgiveness that badly? I could give it to him, end this whole thing, but I don't want to make a liar out of myself. I don't forgive him because there's nothing to forgive.

"Bears don't pee when they're hibernating. Isn't that crazy? Can you imagine holding your bladder for that long? If you exploded from urine overload, would it rain piss instead of blood? Golden showers for all!" I try to sound peppy, but I'm downright exhausted.

"What are you talking about?" Ethan growls at me, obviously frustrated by my lack of compliance in this conversation.

Oh, there's something on the ceiling.

"Ethan, look!" I exclaim, pointing at the ceiling.

He rolls his eyes but reluctantly looks up.

"Is that gum? How do you think it got there?" I inquire, genuinely curious.

"Are you fucking kidd –"

"Billy got it stuck up there." A deep voice cuts in and I immediately recognize it as Cassius'.

Ethan jerks his head toward my unlikely savior, displeased by the interruption.

"Of course it was Billy." I say thoughtfully. It all makes sense now.

Not really, though. I need to hear this story.

"How did he –"

"Do you mind? We're having a conversation." Ethan fires at Cash, cutting me off from my very important quest for knowledge in the process.

"Did you know bears don't pee when they hibernate? Ethan didn't know." I look to Cassius this time with unnecessary excitement that I'm not even genuinely feeling.

Ethan groans and Cash pauses, his eyes bouncing back and forth between us. Come on Cassius, say something. Please!

"Wait...you're Ethan?" He questions, looking my ex over from head to toe.

"Uh, yeah?" His response is hesitant.

"I think your girlfriend was looking for you." Cash bows his head over to where Skylar stands across the way, timidly watching the exchange between the three of us.

AW! I'm so proud of him! He took a page right out of the book of Quinn. That's exactly what I would have said if I knew Skylar was available as an Ethan deterrent.

I can't help but beam up at him with pride as Ethan grows increasingly uncomfortable. The look on his face clearly shows his indecisiveness. Does he stay and try to get the resolution he's literally been hunting me down for, or go over there and practically rub it in my face that he chose her over me?

He looks to me, to Skylar, to Cash. Ugh, I'm getting whiplash just watching him. I end up ushering him away with my hands and he listens like a good boy, trotting away to be with his secret-not-a-secret-anymore lover.

Does being sober make me all hot and bothered or something? Or is it him coming to my rescue? Either way, I take another minute to admire Cassius as he hovers over me. I have to strain my neck to examine his face but it's so worth the pain.

"That's the guy?" He finally asks, sounding irritated.

"What do you mean?" I scrunch my face up, trying to understand the question.

"We break up over one guy, and now she's with that one." He watches them as they talk in hushed tones a few feet away from us.

Oh. Oh! Shoot. It makes so much sense now. Skylar was his girlfriend. Makes sooo much sense. They're both gorgeous. The gods had special blueprints when they created these two fine specimens of perfection. Of course they were together!

Wait, now I'm confused again. Why would Skylar cheat on Cash? And what in God's name is she doing with Ethan after having someone who looks like him? It doesn't even make sense.

I narrow my eyes, peering over at Ethan.

"Yeah, like why the hell would she pick him over you?" I lean against his shoulder and cross my arms, mimicking Cash's stance while glaring at the traitors.

We look like a couple of badasses right now, ready to pounce on the enemy. I get in the zone, distorting my face to appear scarier. Cassius glances down at me briefly, back up, and then jerks his head to me again, examining my mirrored posture and the way my chest is puffed out like a straight up killer. His laughter fills my ears and reverberates through his shoulder, making my body vibrate.

I've never heard him laugh before. I've seen a light chuckle from a distance. But I've never heard it. Never felt it. Wow.

"I can't with you. You're too fucking much." He laughs again, sending a chill right through me.

"Should I attack?" I ask, not breaking character. "I could get them both if I time it right. Ethan has a bad knee, and I already know I can take Skylar."

While I ramble out my war strategy, he watches me intently. I don't think anyone has ever listened to me this long before. Maybe he's not listening. He's probably only staring at me because he wants me to shut up.

"You don't care about Ethan, remember?" He says calmly, questioning the validity of my previous statements.

"I don't. Well, I didn't. Now I do."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?!" I squeal. What a stupid question!

"She picked him! It doesn't make sense!"

"Quinn, I don't care that he's with –"

"You're a skyscraper and Ethan is...well, he's barely a decent sized tree. Like a Dogwood. What do you have on him? Like a solid four inches? I'm talking about your height, not your dick. Get your mind out of the gutter. Actually, put a pin in that. We'll revisit that one at a later date. And his muscles are like little pebbles and yours are big ol' boulders!"

My hand grips his bicep but doesn't even manage to wrap halfway around it. I try to jiggle it like a boobie, but does that sucker move at all? Nope.

"See! And his eyes are a dull blue where yours are like dark crystals. I mean, you're kind of boring and moody, but being around Ethan is like watching paint dry. Really slow drying paint, Cassius, not normal paint. I'm straight up stupefied by this!"

End rant. I'm gasping for a breath that will ease the burning in my lungs. I really need to learn to control myself. I barely even remember half of what I just said because, as always, my brain is moving on before my previous thought is even processed.

Why is Cassius staring at me like that? Like he's going to eat my face? Or stab it? I don't think I'm too keen on either of those options. Both of them leave me without a face. Which would be okay if my eyes weren't on my face. I need those for things, like seeing. Like seeing Cassius stare at me like he might attack. Why is he so hard to decipher?

"What?" I finally ask defensively.

My question seems to break his concentration on my face, and he moves on to the floor instead. Did I say something to upset him? I can't remember. Best to apologize, be on the safe side. I don't want to get kicked out tonight.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to –" ...to do what exactly? "I didn't – I'm not really sure what I – did you know that in ancient Greece, they called comets hairy stars – wait, no, I'm sorry."

Another deep inhale. I'm going to walk away now. I have officially exceeded my limitation of awkward encounters for the day. I take a large, slow step back before doing an about face and taking off. I squeeze through the crowd and find a cozy little place to blend in.

The lights cut out once again, spotlights illuminating the stage to signal the start of the final fight. I already assumed Logan was fighting because of the body count, but seeing Wyatt step out onto the stage with him has my heart racing.

The one and only time we met, I was wasted and emotional. I lured him into my apartment like a creeper, offered up the goods, and ended up professing my undying loyalty to him.

It wasn't as sexy as it sounds. I climbed him like a monkey, and he tossed my ass to the side like a banana peel.

He only came up to my apartment to make sure I made it there safely. When I tore my clothes off, he quickly tried to throw my clothes back at me. I cried. He laughed and patted the spot next to him on the couch. The second I sat down, I spilled my guts for the first time in my life thanks to one too many Moscow Mules.

He knows things about me. Like top secret, highly classified things. When I sobered up, I asked what I needed to do for him to never speak a word of what I said or did. All he asked is that I root for him during his fights. I made him a promise, but Logan is going to win.

"GO WYAAAT!" I scream at the top of my lungs, drawing attention from nearly everyone around me.

I cheer for him one more time and he peers over, smirking when he spots me amongst countless others. His hands cup his mouth before he shouts up to the heavens.

"I LOVE YOU, QUINN!"

Yeah, we were fast friends. Besties for life. That tends to happen when you pour your heart out to a stranger, I guess.

Everyone is staring now.

"I LOVE YOU TOO, SEXY!" I call back, ignoring the unwanted attention. My promise is more important.

His charming gap-toothed smile takes up his entire face as he steps up to shake Logan's hand. Logan is grinning over our exchange too. We aren't besties like me and Wyatt, but we know each other fairly well. He's used to me cheering for him, though.

The bell rings and the crowd erupts into an incoherent mesh of insults and cheers. The majority root for Logan, but there's quite a few stragglers on team Wyatt. He gets Logan against the ropes relatively quickly, but Logan pushes back. After a few minutes of man dancing, Wyatt's fist introduces itself to Logan's jaw.

"YES! KILL HIM, WYATT!" More stares. "SORRY, LOGAN! I STILL LOVE YOU, TOO!"

They both start laughing in the middle of the fight and it takes them a moment to recompose themselves. People are scowling at me like I just threatened to bomb a bunch of kittens. I guess they take their sports very seriously.

A couple of men approach me, infiltrating my personal bubble. I stand on my tiptoes to try and see over them, but they inch closer. When I try to step around them, they make it impossible. I tap my slippered foot against the ground, impatiently waiting for them to state their business with me.

"Shut your fucking mouth or get out." The dumb looking one finally says.

This whole club is filled with people cheering and booing, so how am I the only one who's a problem for them?

"Oh, I'm the one who needs to shut my mouth? Your breath smells like literally shit so may I suggest listening to your own advice. For the sake of everyone's health, I mean." I spit back.

Poking the bear is my specialty, especially when I'm anxious. Mama said it's a bad quality in a young lady, but I quite like it. Well, until shit breath guy's hand clamps over my mouth, forcibly muting me. I stick my tongue out, making it squish between his fingers. That always grosses people out.

Blech, he tastes like salt and rubber. When he goes to pull his hand away from my tongue assault, it pushes against my face first. I stumble a bit but manage to regain balance and effectively avoid falling on my butt.

I'm not one of those girls that fights guys. I can't win if they hit back and it's not even fair because they're not supposed to hit back. Hunter used to, though. He used to hit first. So, when this guy's disgruntled face starts turning red with anger, I don't plan to just sit back and wait to see if he's willing to shake out a truce.

My fist balls up in preparation. I'll go for the throat if need be. It's the only defense method I've got right now against someone his size. But when people start yelling about the fight and I realize just how many people are closing in around me, I freeze. I stand motionless, staring at the men.

This is just like that night. The night Billy found me. The night he told me I was safe here. I'm safe. I know I am. Billy promised. Cash is going to come over here any minute now. I'm safe, untouchable. I just can't seem to convince my body of this fact right now.

Only my eyes possess the ability to move. Wyatt is standing at the edge of the stage, leaning his entire torso over the ropes while shoving a gloved hand through the air in my direction, yelling something to the crowd. Logan stands behind him, watching with hawk eyes.

Cassius is storming towards me with speed I didn't think someone as big as him possessed. And I'm still paralyzed with fear because of the way shit breath is staring at me.