“As much fun as that sounds, and it really is the best invite I’ve had in months, I think I’m going to have to skip this balloon bombardment.”
“Oooh!” Brynn opens her arms and lets the balloons fall to the ground. “Balloon bombardment! That’s a good one, I’m writing that down.”
“For what?” The fear of whatever diabolical plan Brynn is cooking up is clear in Paisley’s voice.
“Not sure, but I do love a themed party.” Brynn starts to gather the loose balloons before she sees Donny sipping another cocktail. “Donny! Either make yourself useful and help us mess with TK or you’re paying for that bottle.”
He puts down his glass without hesitating. “Where do you want the balloons?”
“Hey.” Quinton pulls my attention from the train wreck in front of me. “I’m about to head out and Donny told me where you live, it’s on my way. Let me give you a ride.”
“Oh. No, that’s not necessary.” “No” is my automatic response to anyone offering to do anything for me ever. “I’ll be fine.”
“Of course you’ll be fine,” he says. “Just let me? Please. You did such a great job with this and I know I wasn’t the easiest person to work with. A ride is the least I could do.”
I actually am not a fan of Uber. I mean, I feel like climbing in a car with a total stranger and giving them directions to my house is the first thing I was taught not to do. A ride with Quinton wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
Well . . . maybe.
He’s watching me closely and I get the feeling that my thoughts are playing out across my face. “You know what?” I slap the table. “I think I will take you up on that offer.”
Quinton pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth. Maybe trying not to laugh. Definitely drawing unwanted attention to his mouth.
At least there’s a good chance that being trapped in the car with him will rid me of all these pleasant feelings I’m having toward him right now. Because right now I feel like it’s messing with the balance of the universe or something.
“Cool. Then are you ready to go or do you need to check on anything else?”
The fact that he thinks I’m capable of doing anything productive right now is very generous of him.
“Nope, I think I’m good.”
I look around to find Jen and spot her in the corner talking with Donny. He’s got an armful of balloons Brynn forced him to collect, and it looks like he’s hanging onto every word coming out of Jen’s mouth. And Jen isn’t just talking. No, she’s twirling her hair with one hand and touching his arm with the other. The two cornerstones of flirting. “Hey!” I whisper-yell as I elbow Quinton in the arm to see if he sees what I do. Tequila has tricked me into reading signs that weren’t there before. “Are Donny and Jen flirting or am I seeing things?”
“Oh shit.” He leans in, squinting his eyes. “I’ve never seen Donny not wildly gesturing at somebody. So maybe?”
Out of everything that happened tonight, this might be the most surprising. Well, you know, after Quinton donating his entire salary to charity.
“I was going to say bye to her, but I don’t want to ruin their moment.” I think. It is Donny she’s talking to. Maybe I owe it to her to ruin this. But Donny is loyal to a degree that’s almost impossible to find, and even though he makes me nuts, he also keeps me laughing. “No, I’ll just shoot her a text later. Let’s hit the road.”
His hand with his keys in them freezes in midair.
“Hit the road?” he repeats. “Oh god. You’re the kind of person who sings in the car, aren’t you?”
I am.
I so totally am. And I’m the kind of person who will actively try to outsing the radio. Turning up the volume only makes me sing louder.
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see because it’s too late to back out now.” I waggle my eyebrows before bending down to pick up my shoes that I took off as soon as the last guest left.
“Fuck.” He groans, but the smile is still on his face and it feels more like a friend giving me a hard time instead of him hating me. “Is this what I get for doing a good deed?”
“It is, you lucky son of a gun.”
I don’t know if it’s the tequila or the lingering buzz of adrenaline from tonight, but for the first time in a very, very long time, I don’t feel sad. My limbs don’t feel weighed down by grief, my smile doesn’t ache with guilt. I just feel like me, like the Elliot I used to be. Happy.
And to my immense shock and total displeasure, I think that Quinton might be part of the reason why.
Seventeen
“Thank you again for doing this.” I look up at streetlights as they blur together. The dark Colorado sky above them is even darker through the heavy tint on his windows. His BMW whatever series is a lot nicer than my beat-up Camry.
“I told you, you’re on my way home. It’s not a big deal.” The glow from the lights on his dashboard makes everything about him look soft. His eyes, his skin, his lips . . .
“No, not for the ride.” I sit up in the seat. Between the long day, the booze, and the plush, heated seat, I’m in serious danger of dozing off. “I mean, yes, thank you for the ride, but I meant thank you for tonight.”
“Why are you thanking me? You did all of the work and the idea was yours.” He sneaks a quick glance my way before focusing back on the road in front of him.
Now, I love a compliment as much as anyone—more, if I’m honest—but only when they are warranted. And the reason tonight was so successful wasn’t
