I groaned for effect, but if he could have seen my face, he’d have known how happy I was.
What on earth was happening?
Three days later, I met Claire and Margot for our weekly GNO. It was my turn to pick the place, and I chose Standby, a relatively new bar in the Belt Alley that had great cocktails and delicious small plates.
I got there first, ordered a Vermilion Fizz, and took a minute to text Quinn. Hey. At Standby with girls. See you tonight?
Definitely. Have fun and knock when you get home.
After that there was a little bumblebee emoji, which Quinn had designated the “love bug.” Shaking my head, I quickly checked his Instagram account, where he’d posted a pic from this morning. I’d probably looked at it a hundred times already today, but I couldn’t resist peeking at it again. We’d still been lying in his bed, and he’d snapped a selfie right as he kissed my cheek, which I didn’t even realize because I was laughing at something he’d said and my eyes were closed. My hair was a mess and the picture was kind of blurry, but it captured us perfectly. His caption was simply This girl. #wcw #sweetpea
“What are you smiling about?” Claire took off her coat and hung it on the chair across the table from me.
“Nothing.” I tucked my phone into my purse, embarrassed to be caught grinning like an idiot at a screen.
“Does nothing stand about six foot two, have piercing blue eyes, and a great big dick?”
I shrugged, but I couldn’t keep the blush from my cheeks. “Maybe.”
“God, what is going on with you?” she demanded, sliding onto the seat. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love.”
I coughed in protest, even as the room started to spin. “Please. I’m not in love. I’m just…enjoying myself. Isn’t that allowed?”
“Of course it’s allowed. It’s just very unlike you to enjoy yourself with one guy for this long.”
“I know. It does feel a bit strange,” I admitted as Margot breezed in and sat down next to Claire.
“What does?” she asked, shrugging out of her jacket and glancing around. “Do they have a coat check here? Or a rack?”
“I don’t know. Here, I’ll take it.” I reached out and took her heavy camel coat and set it on the bench next to me.
“Thanks. Now what’s strange?” she asked.
“Being in love,” Claire interjected.
“Being with Quinn,” I said firmly, giving Claire the evil eye.
The server came over with my drink and took their orders. When he was gone, Margot asked, “But is it good strange? Being in a couple?”
“Yeah.” I took a sip. “Mm, that’s good.” Everything tasted good these last few days.
“Did you break the sleepover rule?” Claire’s expression was smug, and I knew the color was back in my cheeks again.
“Uh, we did, actually. On Saturday night.” I took another sip. “And then again on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday.”
Their jaws dropped, and then they looked at each other.
I burst out laughing. “You guys look so funny.”
“I can’t believe it,” Claire said, shaking her head. “You’ve spent four nights in a row together?”
“Yes. I can hardly believe it either.” We’d spent the first two in my flat and the last two in his. Who knew where we’d end up tonight?
“And you’re OK with it?” Margot scrutinized my face. “You don’t feel smothered?”
“No. It’s kind of insane.” I played with the stem of my glass as I confessed. “I’m actually liking the closeness. I mean, I don’t like him right on top of me all the time, I still like my personal space, but…” I shrugged. “I like when he’s there.”
“Holy shit. You’ve got a boyfriend, Jaime.” Margot looked amused.
“What? No, I don’t.” I felt my face getting hotter, and I focused on taking a drink of my cold cocktail.
“You do. You so do.” Grinning, she sat back as the server set their drinks down. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You don’t need a support group.”
“I know. I just…don’t really want a boyfriend,” I insisted. “We agreed not to put that kind of label on things, and I think it’s helping me be comfortable with what we’re doing.”
“Which is what?”
“Dating. Having fun. Enjoying each other’s company.” I paused. “Often naked.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a boyfriend to me.”
“Claire, please. A boyfriend is more serious. Like Tripp. Tripp’s a boyfriend.”
“For now, anyway.” Margot sighed.
“Did you talk to him yet?” I asked, kind of hoping to get off the subject of Quinn. The truth was, I didn’t know exactly what we were doing or what to call it or what would happen next week when he moved out. I was hoping we’d be able to keep it just like this—light and fun, strings but no labels, meaningful but not serious. Anything more than that, and I started to hyperventilate.
“No. I didn’t want to ruin Valentine’s Day. We were having dinner with Mimi and Deuce,” she said glumly. “But I can’t put it off much longer. I’m miserable not knowing.”
Because that is what serious relationships do to people, I reminded myself. That’s what falling in love does—jacks up their hopes and creates impossible expectations. Misery is inevitable.