make you miss me • q. hughes

46

It's interesting how time passes. I swear time has never gone so fast as it has been. At one point it's January and I finally have the ability to tell Quinn I want him to be mine and only mine and the next thing I know, it's I love you. Then all of a sudden his season's practically over.

"You guys are like, codependent. How are you gonna survive having to stay in Vancouver?" Tiny asks.

I'd just gotten done explaining to her that no, we don't spend every night together. He has road games and all that. But, if he's not sleeping in our bed at my apartment, I'm sleeping in ours at his place. It's not a crime. It is a bit worrisome that the offseason's coming up and he has plenty of plans to go see family, friends, and general vacation.

"Hello?"

I gnaw on my bottom lip for a moment. "I don't know how I'm going to survive having to stay in Vancouver."

"Right when I thought we were making progress with the whole Vancouver issue you have another one," she jokes.

"Yeah," I say.

"Is he coming to your Mom's birthday?"

Is he? It seems that's the big question. All three of my brothers have asked. Mom asked. Dad even texted me about it. He hasn't even met the kid and he's inviting him to Mom's always dramatic birthday bash.

"Hello?"

"I haven't asked," I tell her. "We... Listen, isn't it a bit aggressive to invite him to spend a few days in a house of Schuylers in the middle of nowhere?"

"In what other situation would he be in a house of Schuylers other than in the middle of nowhere? You rural freak."

"Woah! That's gotta be fucked up in some way," I say. "Like seriously fucked up."

She huffs out a laugh. "I'm not calling all people who grew up in the middle of nowhere freaks. Only you."

"And I think that's fucked up. So look at that, I'm right."

"Can we get back to the real topic at hand?" Leave it to Val to bring it back to the topic I was clearly unsure about. "You should invite him."

"What if he thinks it's weird?" I ask, very aware I'm far too grown to be asking if my boyfriend thinks it's weird of me to invite him somewhere.

Tiny laughs. My best friend laughs the same laugh she laughs when someone trips or knocks into a table. A genuine laugh for something funny to her. "You could wear the ugliest, strangest hat in the world and that dumbass boyfriend of yours wouldn't think you're weird."

"That's not true," I mumble. "He calls me weird all the time. I organized his room for him."

"Oh, you weird freak. I love you. But, he doesn't actually think it."

"Why not?" My voice almost sounds offended at that.

"He probably gets that look he gets when you're around and is smiling when he says it which means he's basically saying he loves you— Wait." I wait for her to get her thoughts together. "You guys have said the L word right? Please tell me you have. 'Cause you guys so do."

"Yes, Davis, we've said the L word."

The front door unlocks and opens, Quinn starting his little get-home routine. He does things the same every time. It's always keys, jacket and/or hat, and then shoes. Then he finds me. Even if he has to go to the bathroom or wants something to eat, he finds me first. It's endearing.

"And you didn't tell me?!" She yells, making me pull my phone away from my ear.

"It was a while ago," I say.

Quinn wraps his arms around me from behind. I turn around in the hold, leaning back against the counter. Tiny's going off about the lack of communication and trust in this friendship and how she should have known immediately. Something, something she could excuse not telling her immediately when me and him were hooking up but this crosses the line.

"Who's on the phone?" Quinn whispers, basically mouthing it. I put it on speaker, the girl still rambling her speech out, and he nods.

"Honestly, you tell me when you get a paper cut at work but you won't tell me you love Quinn—"

My boyfriend smiles and whispers again, "You love me?"

"Shut up," I whisper back.

"Is he there? Was that a shut up for Quinn?" Tiny groans. "Gross. A coupley shut up between Quinn and you. Ew. If this is how it's gonna be around you two, I don't want it."

"Hi, V," Quinn says.

"Hi, Quinn. You're gross."

I laugh and he sends me a joking glare. "I'm sorry."

"God, she's apologizing?!" Tiny exclaims. "This is fucking ridiculous. You've made her soft. I miss my best friend."

"Shut the fuck up," I shoot out.

"There she is! I love you."

Quinn shakes his head. "Tiny, she's not soft she pushed me off the bed last night."

"You kept kicking me," I argue.

"She did the same to me whenever I slept over and kicked her so I feel your pain," Val assures. "Oh, speaking of sleeping over, I'll be sleeping over after I get wasted at Mom's birthday."

Smooth.

"Not in my bed," I say.

"Why not?" She whines.

"Was hoping I'd get the chance to share my childhood bedroom with Hughes here."

"Is that supposed to be an invite?" Quinn asks.

I give him a look. One that shows I don't appreciate the teasing tone he used. It took me practically getting forced to bring it up to do it. He rolls his eyes but still nods.

"There you go," Tiny says. "Hope he's nodding as if he got asked if he wants a billion dollars."

"He's not," I tell her.

Quinn hisses in a breath dramatically. "Am I going to have to room with Sidney Crosby too?"

"Go to hell."

"Babes, rural Ontario is pretty much hell," Tiny says. "You're already bringing him there."

"How rural?" Quinn looks at me carefully. My mouth in specific.

"Pretty damn rural," my best friend answers instead.

"V, shh. I need to check something," he rushes out. "How rural, Scout?"

"Pretty damn rural," I repeat.

Quinn's face changes emotions very quickly. He goes from focused, to shocked, to confused, to shock, to disbelief. All in practically five seconds. It's insane. I've never seen him do that before.

"You need to stop doing shit like this," he says. "Your brother plays hockey and he's an expected first-overall pick like a year before his draft. You— You say you're from the middle of nowhere and somehow fail to mention how it's the middle of nowhere to the point where I somehow don't notice how different your accent is—"

I push his chest gently. "That one's on you."

"To be fair, it weirdly goes away when she's mad so you probably were used to hearing her mad and didn't look for a difference when she wasn't," Tiny adds.

"Okay, I wasn't mad at him that often—"

"Yeah," Quinn interrupts. "You were."

"But I think I've made up for it, right?"

Val fakes a gagging noise. "I'm gonna vomit."

"You made up for it," he says through a laugh.

"Sorry, what was that, Quinn?" V does another gagging sound. "Couldn't hear you over me puking my guts out."

***********
a/n
me and the family party plot point will never separate