tiny
be ready by 11!
jean louise
thanks for the amazing context
tiny
swimmin'
jean louise
fucks sake still no context what i'm getting
ready for
tiny
i know!
it's a surprise
jean louise
i don't like those
yk
best friend of many years
tiny
i know
this can be my monthly one
jean louise
okay
love ya
tiny
love ya too dumbass
i'm gonna go clean out the car if u need me
jean louise
YOURE going to clean??
tiny
:)
jean louise
i'll be there in a minute to help
* * * * *
"Don't know how you told time for the past few days," I say as I hold out Jack's watch.
He smiles, taking the watch. "Lifesaver."
"Don't I know it."
"Pretty sure not having it messed up my golf game. Did you wear it?"
"If I did, I wouldn't admit to it."
"Smart."
"Don't I know it," I repeat.
That burning feeling creeps up on me. My head goes toward the end of the dock and sure enough, Quinn Hughes is staring me down over Trevor's shoulder. I raise my hand in a small wave. Choosing that little gesture instead of making some comment on his staring problem. He turns away.
* * * * *
Eavesdropping isn't good. Minding your business is always a good route. Unless your name's in the conversation. Always eavesdrop if people are talking about you when you aren't meant to hear. Or else you'll drive yourself insane thinking about it. Trust me. That's why I'm standing just out of view of the doorway when I hear Jack's voice in the kitchen.
"Schuy's chill. I don't get why you don't like her."
"She's..." Quinn's voice drops off.
"See, you don't even have a reason!"
Quinn shushes him. "I was thinking of the word. She's standoffish."
"What?" Jack laughs the word out.
"She's full of herself and stubborn and it's annoying."
"You're taking it way too seriously. She said it the other day, she's mostly joking."
"It seems like she's joking with everyone but me. You weren't even there at the bar, man. She flipped a switch and was pissed off."
Okay, yeah. He pissed me off a bit. But it wasn't my night. He shot right back too. It's the kind of thing that could have been swept under the rug. Not now. My blood's fucking boiling now. I'm not the best at making new friends because yeah, I am a bit standoffish. It fucks off eventually though and I'd say I'm pretty enjoyable.
I don't think Quinn deserves my enjoyable side.
"Dude, give her a chance."
"I don't want to give her a chance," Quinn snaps. I see we're on the same page. "I want her to relax."
The sliding door opens. Jack says, "Maybe you should try to relax too."
It closes and a sigh comes from the kitchen. Annoying. Stubborn. Full of herself. Yeah, right. If he wants to see stubborn and annoying, I can give him stubborn and annoying. God, I just can't. Does he think he can have his annoying staring problem and annoying retaliations and be on some high horse? We're both doing the same shit to each other. He's not any better than I am.
The sliding door opens.
"Hey, Q," Val says. "You seen Schuy?"
He must shake his head or something.
She sighs. "Jack was asking if I'd seen her when I passed him on my way up."
"Why was Jack asking if he'd seen her?" Quinn says. It has a bite to it.
"I don't know. If you ask me, they're a good matchup."
"Really?"
"Not like that! Jack's a certain kind of mellow that evens her out. Makes her want to relax. I can see it. It's a solid friendship potential." She clears her throat. "You got weird about the idea of them being a good matchup. I know you two don't necessarily get along but goddamn that was some Romeo and Juliet shit."
"No, it wasn't."
"Don't worry. She needs someone who can keep up. He's not fiery enough."
"So Trevor?"
"No. She likes dark hair."
"Fuck off, Val."
She laughs. "I'm serious. It's not my fault if you're coincidentally her type. Anyways, if you see her tell her Jack was lookin' for her."
* * * * *
Luke's the only one still swimming. Over by Val who's sitting with her legs off the end of the deck. Z is laying down on a towel just in the middle of the deck. My spot is right by the ladder and I am shivering the fuck away. Wet hair at sundown with a light breeze is like hell. Sadly, Quinn's just on the opposite side of the not-that-wide ladder. Happily, Jack's sitting directly behind him, their backs to each other.
I've found myself glaring at Quinn. Still a bit pissed about what I heard. I don't look away when he takes off his sweatshirt and his shirt rises slightly with it. Or when he runs a hand through his hair. However, I do look away the second he turns toward me, opting to watch Jack mouth the words to whatever song was playing. Something is pressed into my lap and I flinch.
"No," I say. It's Quinn's sweatshirt. I put it in the space between us. "I'm good."
He pushes it closer. "You're shivering."
"I'm good."
"You're shivering," he repeats, with more emphasis.
"It's the wet hair. I'm all good."
"You're covered in goosebumps, Scout."
"Don't call me that." I push the downright offensive piece of clothing toward him. "If I wanted a sweater I could go up to the house and grab one. Thanks, but no thanks."
His eyes roll and he still doesn't take his damn sweatshirt back. "Are you always this stubborn or is it a me thing?"
"She's always that stubborn," Val says over her shoulder.
"Scout--"
"Stop calling me that."
He rubs his jaw with one hand and lets out a long, deep breath. "It's your name."
"I like being called Schuy."
"Take the sweatshirt."
"Take the sweatshirt," I mock. It's childish, sure. But it always messes with people. They'll call you dumb and ridiculous but still be annoyed by it even a little bit.
Val turns around with her eyes narrowing on me. "Jean Louise, put on the damn thing or I'll personally make sure it's put on."
"Tiny-"
"Quinn, put it on her."
"No!" I shout.
Trevor sits right up, eyes wide as he must have finally fallen asleep. The three of us involved for some reason look at him like he's the problem. But then Val glares at me again and the sweatshirt's on me in the next seconds.
"Look at that! Warmer?" She smiles a cold smile. Kind of get the feeling she doesn't care about my warmth.
I shake my head even though it's already warmer in the hoodie than only my swimsuit. Residual heat from Quinn wearing it and whatnot. Ugh, Quinn was wearing it. It's Quinn's.
"Stubborn," Quinn mumbles.
"The pot calling the kettle black," Val says.