Ethically Speaking

2.9

•-Elijah Fields -•

She's perfect.

I've never thought someone could be so unimaginably perfect until I met Quincie Jackson.

I knew the second I saw her that she was physically beautiful beyond belief. But as I grew to know her mind and her personality, it became rather apparent that there was no one as perfect as her.

She holds my hand as we walk the streets outside our apartment building.

We'd gotten back later than we'd planned but we could hardly stop ourselves from talking at dinner.

We barely touched the surface of our relationship but neither of us seemed to mind as we didn't bring it up again.

After dinner, we took a drive through the city. I held her hand the entire drive and would occasionally pull her hand to my lips. It felt like we'd done it a million times, yet it was only the first.

Now, as we approach the front door of our building I can't help but wish the night could continue.

"Max misses you," I say abruptly as I pull open the door for her.

She steps through, dropping my hand much to my disapproval. As we stand in the lobby, neither of us making a move to start upstairs, I can see in her eyes that like me, Quincie didn't want to end the night.

Her eyebrow raises in a questioning way as if challenging my words.

It wasn't entirely a lie. Max adored Quincie and any surprise visit would make him happy. But I always knew when he was missing Quincie, and having just seen her two days again I can confidently say that he is not having his withdrawals yet.

But I certainly am even with her in front of me.

"I think he'd appreciate a visit, if you would like to come upstairs?"

My palms were sweaty with nervousness as she stands in front of me in silence.

I scanned her eyes looking for any sign of her wanting to say no, but they were unreadable. She'd mastered this fake personality for her father, and I suppose at some point it had just become a part of her.

"Okay," her face breaks out into a smile that I can't help but mimic, "I miss him too."

We take the stairs because I'd come to realize Quincie wasn't a fan of the elevator. I don't know how I knew, but I just did. It could be that I'd never seen her take the elevator, or that she was hesitant when someone from her floor would step outside the small space and she'd look at it like it was a death trap.

Yet, all those small and almost unimportant moments had left a great impression. Most of not all in innocent passing where I'd have nodded my head respectfully or she'd talk only to Max if we'd been out for a run.

Either way, I knew the stairs were the better option even if it was predetermined exhaustion by the time we reach my floor.

I was proud of myself for not heaving as we approach my apartment door.

I wasn't out of shape by any means, but simply put, stairs are a killer.

As I push open the door, Max lunges from the couch. I expect him to greet me, but not-so-shockingly, he zooms past me and into the arms of Quincie.

She crouches to the floor and greets him with affection.

I adore the way she treats Max.

It was so different from having to keep Max at bay anytime Katie came by. I still don't know how she planned on living together without my dog, but I didn't much like the thought of Katie when Quincie was in front of me.