make you miss me • q. hughes

28

I don't know how it happened. Last week, it was so clear how it happened. How I ended up with Quinn in my apartment for no actual reason was so clear. He'd asked, and I said sure. This time, however, he kind of just ended up here. It wasn't a surprise though. Somehow I was expecting him.

That's kind of how it's been with me and Quinn from the start. We somehow end up with the other. Over and over again, we make our way to be near each other. Even if it's not in the greatest of attitudes. It's never a surprise.

People think that things that stay the same and do the same thing over and over are boring. They're so wrong. If they were right, I wouldn't exist. I'm in love with routine and hate boredom. Quinn's no different in that. We've fallen into a weird routine and I could never get bored of it. Never. I know that for a fact.

I'm sitting on my counter. Quinn's leaning back against the counter across from me, reading the back of the book I finished today. Does he know how good he looks focused? Does he know how good he looks period?

"Didn't realize you could read," I say to break up the silence.

He sets the book back on the counter. "You're so funny."

"Don't remind me."

"Shut up," he mumbles. Joking.

My voice isn't so joking. My favorite line slipping out, "Make me."

He's only been over for, maybe, fifteen minutes. But fucking hell those fifteen minutes have been in slow motion. If I'd known I could kick it into speed with two words, I'd already have done it by now. 'Cause he looks good and it's been a week since I saw him last. Even longer since I've kissed him last and I just want him.

When did I get so fucking desperate?

It doesn't matter. Quinn's in front of me, standing between my legs with his hands on my thighs. Smiling that stupid, little smug smile at me. The butterflies in my stomach make me okay with being a bit desperate. I think I've been okay with it since he let me touch that scar above his ear. That feels a lot farther in the past than it is.

The anticipation has built up enough, snapping like a rubber band. I lean forward and kiss him. It's desperate because I'm desperate. My hands find his hair as always. We move in sync. It's shocking how two people who were so adamant to be on opposite sides can move so perfectly together. A team.

He squeezes my thighs slightly. I inch forward on the counter. It's overwhelming. It's so much. He's so much and it's perfect.

I pull back, breathing heavily. "I missed you. This."

No response. His face is blank. Chest heaving with the same breathlessness. Our faces are inches apart and he's looking at me in a way I can't place. Totally blank. There's something there at the same time. I don't know. I don't get it.

Until he melts into a smile. Proud. "Finally. Christ took you long enough."

"What?" I can feel the frown take over my face. There's no controlling it.

"You made this whole big thing about how you wouldn't miss me and you don't miss me." He shrugs. "Was waiting for you to finally fess up. I knew I could get you to eventually."

I lean back. Entirely. All of me. I push myself as far back on the counter as possible, my head and shoulders pressing against the cabinet behind me. What the fuck does that even mean?

Quinn tries to chase after me and step forward, but the counter keeps him where he is. "What's wrong?"

"You knew you could get me to?" I laugh slightly. Not really in a very humorous way. It's a cold, confused laugh. "Like a challenge you wanted to beat?"