Oatmeal.

  Doritos, because who doesn’t need those to heal?

  And I’m pretty sure he has enough ice cream bars in the freezer to kill me with sugar and dairy alone.

  Sarah went over the diet with him and he just ran with it but wanted me to have some treats too, I mean it should just be vegetables, healthy grains, fruits, yes some lean proteins but the guy literally asked me if he should go fishing for a salmon.

  I reminded him that we didn’t actually have fresh water salmon in the ocean and got a death glare.

  “Funny, very funny.” Quinn brings over a bowl of pasta. “I just made this so if it sucks, know that I accidentally at one point dropped half the salt in it but scooped it out so we should be good to go.” He makes a face. “If not, I’ll start over, the pasta is whole grain, and I made homemade sauce, I may have stolen a few tomatoes from Zanes garden down the street, but he won’t even notice, the guy has a black thumb.”

  I laugh. “He gardens?”

  “Correction,” Quinn puts the bowl of pasta on the tray in front of me. “He pretends to garden but pays a gardener, his wife turns a blind eye because she gets awesome food and the little dude loves it.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Zane?”

  “Little dude.”

  Quinn laughs. “Oh, he’s an adult if you ask him, but he’s two, thinks he should be in college, uses big words like elephant and poop, pretty awesome if you ask me.”

  “Ah poop is a big word, good for him.”

  “Took me years to learn that one.” Quinn winks. “I’d just point at my ass and smile.”

  “And yet, why do I feel like you still do that?” I tease.

  His smile lights up the room as he sets himself on the couch and grabs the blanket like we’ve done this a million times. He puts my feet in his lap, hands me a fork, and says, “May the odds ever be in your favor.”

  I take the fork. “You know, even if it’s salty, I won’t say a word.”

  “I can smell lies.”

  “Says the poop master.”

  “Hey! I shared in confidence!” He throws his head back and laughs, damn he’s beautiful, it shouldn’t be right. He’s like my own personal Clark Kent on the couch, and my Superman at the hospital.

  I want to say I don’t deserve him, but that’s what sick people do, we say we don’t deserve good things because we’re told by others that we shouldn’t be sick in the first place and are already like this heaviness to society, instead, I tell myself in that moment.

  Mine.

  I’m hiding one more secret. One more to keep to myself, does he really need to know? I’m too immersed in the fact that he hasn’t run away screaming or told me I’m too much.

  So I silence my lips and decide to put them to good use instead.

  I, in that moment, really do become my twin, because I know I’m manipulating with my mouth even though I say no words.

  I lean in and kiss him.

  His lips are soft, but not eager, he quickly pulls back. “As much as I want to kiss you right now, you’re pale and even pale you’re pretty, but I need you to eat, to take care of yourself and if that means I need to be a jackass, then so be it.” His hand reaches out and cups my cheek gently, his fingers are warm, strong. I like the way they feel against my skin. Quinn has the power to both be gentle and a total ass, and I love it. Sometimes you need both, I think I’m one of those people.

  Quinn grabs the fork, digs it into the pasta bowl, blows across it and leans in. “Open.”

  I’ve never been so turned on in my life. “I want to open for something else.”

  He licks his bottom lip, then bites it. “Maybe later, when you’re healthy enough to know just exactly what you’re licking, I mean, what if it’s a wall? A lollipop? The freezer? Do you really want to take the huge risk of missing out on my mouth and what it’s going to do to you?”

  Chills run down my spine. “I can think of nothing worse.”

  “Great answer, I’ll get you an ice cream bar later.”

  I open my mouth. He shoves pasta in. I chew.

  And it’s good, so good, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the pasta or because of him. I don’t know why the universe sent him careening into my lap, but all I can think is thank you.

  Not just because I’m sick.

  But because I’ve been so lonely.

  I’ve needed a friend.

  I’ve needed a person.

  He’s my person.

  Which just brings me back to not telling him. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? I convince myself of this, and I eat each bite like Eve from the garden leading Adam into Hell.

  I’ve become that person.

  Because selfishly, I just want to be normal, I just want to imagine this is a normal relationship, that we’re eating pasta on a couch, that we’re going to complain about work in the morning, make coffee, and yawn while pouring old cereal.

  It sounds like a dream.

  He’s a dream.

  I open my mouth again.

  Quinn puts the bowl down. “Okay listen, I know you’re sick, but I also know you have full access to your own hands, so while you feed yourself like a big girl, I’m going to go back to the kitchen, pour myself a glass of wine, a reward if you will for making good pasta, and come back. Your only job is to finish that bowl, hydrate, rest, and tell me how awesome I am.”

  I make a face. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  His eyebrows arch. “You mean you can’t tell me how awesome I am?”

  “Not that one, that’s easy, you’re my hero, I meant resting, I don’t want to rest when you’re here, I want to jump you. I want to take advantage, right now I want to lick your abs, grab you by your long hair, tug a bit, and beg you to screw me, but sure, yeah I’ll just… rest.”

  His eyes dart toward the kitchen, then back to me, then back to the kitchen. He runs his hands down his face.

  He turns around like he can’t make eye contact and runs his hand down the front of his jeans.

  “You okay?” I laugh.

  “Perfect,” he says so devastatingly that I laugh out loud.

  “Not funny, stop laughing, I’m seconds away from tossing you around and you don’t feel good and that’s wrong, it’s wrong Quinn, what the hell are you thinking? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Are you, like, third personing yourself right now?” I laugh so hard it hurts my stomach.

  He doesn’t turn around, but points his thumb behind him right at me. “Not cool, so not cool, I’ll be right back, got a date with a cold shower and my hand.”

  “Does it work when it’s cold?”

  “Shut up, Chloe, before I shove“—he stops walking—“this is hard.”

  “So are you.”

  “I hate you.” He keeps walking.

  “I won’t be mad if you yell my name!”

  He flips me off and slams the bathroom door.

  The last thing I remember after eating one last bite of pasta, is smiling and closing my eyes.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Quinn

  I go to the shower and barely feel the cold water. I don’t touch myself, I don’t touch anything, for whatever reason, I just shower, dry off, and attempt not to think about Chloe.

  Which is basically impossible when the towel runs roughly over my dick, it truly is so much harder than I realized.

  A knock sounds on the door. “Go away Chloe, you’re supposed to be resting.”

  “I need help though,” she says in such a weak voice that I immediately panic and open the door completely naked, towel dropped to the floor.

  She’s in nothing but a long t-shirt, she’s still pale, her hairs in a braid down her back and I’ve never seen anyone so pretty.

  “I’m sick,” she states, taking a step into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. She leans her back against it. “Who knows how many times I’ll be able to attempt to seduce a guy who laughs in the face of death?”

  I smirk. “Really? That’s what we’re going with?”

  “Yup, you’re like your own Puss in Boots.” She seems so pleased with herself I can only shake my head and look away, so I don’t nod my head and walk toward her, my lips leading the way.

  “It goes like this.” I press her up against the door. “I kiss you. I screw you. You say nothing. You don’t exert yourself. You do nothing extra…” I drop to my knees in front of her. “You let me serve.”

  “Serve,” she repeats, licking her lips.

  “You.” I nod. “You let me serve you, touch my dick or any other part of my body, get aggressive or out of breath and I’m putting you to bed and chaining you there in a very non sexy way so you don’t overexert yourself.” I slide my hands up her calves, past her knees, I cling to her thighs, digging my fingers in and slowly spreading her legs wider as my fingers inch closer to her hips. “Deal?”

  Chloe’s face breaks out into a wide smile. “So I get served, and what do you get out of it?”

  “Hook your right leg around my head and find out.”

  Her eyes widen.

  I grab her right leg and do exactly that, exposing her core to me. She’s wearing nothing underneath my shirt. I want her so bad. I want her taste. I want her mouth. I want her body.

  “Pardon me for a minute.” I smirk up at her. “I’ve got some business to attend do, I mean you only live once.” And with that, I clap my mouth between her legs and suck. I twist my tongue against every inch of her, feeling her heartbeat in the best way possible. Her hands grip my hair. She tugs at me the way I shove my tongue inside her.

  Her left knee goes weak as she collapses against my head. I pin her to the door with my left hand, keeping her there. “You’re close.”

  “You’re too good at this.”

  “I’m good at everything.”

  “Did you forget the bungee—oh shit—“ She exhales and starts moving her hips.

  I pull back. “What was that again? Care to change your answer?”

  “Go!” she yells, forgetting her promise. “Please.”

  “Come, I think is what you meant, but okay. I’m down.” I laugh at my own joke. “Get it? Now calm the Hell down so I can pleasure you then put you to bed.”

  She smacks me on the side of the head with her left hand.

  I laugh and get back to work, but really, is it work? No. It’s my pleasure. My priority. My girl. “Relax and let me taste you.”

  “Relax.” She repeats, her body actually tensing around me, her legs getting closer and closer to holding my head in a vice I wouldn’t mind dying in. “I can’t relax when your mouth is on me, when you make me feel…” Her head hits the back of the door. “Feel—“

  My tongue slides in and out, I add my fingers and all is lost when she bucks against them and then collapses against me, her body limp. I’m almost worried until she slowly pulls away and sinks to the floor, looking up at me like I just gave her the world.

  Her hand shakes as she reaches for my face and cups it. “You won’t leave, right?”

  “Where else would I go? And why do you think I’m that crazy? To let some other guy slide in when I’m already fully committed, I’m competitive like that.”

  “Promise?” Tears fill her eyes.

  “Promise.” It’s not even hard to. I like her, I like her a lot.

  Slowly her hand lowers to my raging cock, and it’s angry, I know it is, I can feel my own blood pulsing, demanding that we do something about the whole situation but the point is, she needs rest even if my cock wants a chance to pleasure and play.

  I almost forgot I was naked.

  She can see it all.

  The pleasure she gave me while I gave her pleasure.

  The way my body responded instantly.

  And the way my body still looks and feels ready to explode.

  She reaches for my cock, I almost wince when her small hand wraps around it. I hiss out a breath. I don’t want to move. I don’t want her doing any work, quite honestly. With her just gripping me, I’m ready to explode.

  She’s almost brutal in her touch.

  It’s painful.

  I want to react, to jump her, to slam her against the wall and pull her hair, instead I just kneel there while she kneels in front of me, slowly her mouth descends.

  I won’t last.

  I’m already there.

  Her lips touch my tip, and I’m already feeling it in my stomach, the way my balls draw up, I’m so far gone it’s embarrassing.

  “Harder.” I hiss. “Harder, so much harder, hurt me.”

  She tugs, then reaches with her other hand and cups my balls, giving them a small tug that’s a mix of pain and pleasure.

  I slam my hand against the tiled floor. “Shit.”

  “Let go.” She pulls her mouth away and looks up at me. “I just want you.” Her tongue descends to my tip, before her mouth engulfs me, and I’m gone, pumping into her mouth like my life depends on it.

  It’s over before I know it. I tried to keep my eyes open, but it took me, the way her wet mouth felt, the way her tongue swirled around me, her hands. Fuck, I start coming again, fuck.

  What the hell is happening?

  When I’m done, I’m almost embarrassed by one, how fast it happened, two, that I somehow had like this weird double orgasm against her mouth.

  She wipes it on the towel, face pale. “That was better than taking a sleeping pill.”

  “Wait, pause.” I start laughing. “Foreplay made you… sleepier than Benadryl? Are you serious right now? Like I literally put you to sleep both times?”

  She starts laughing so hard that she collapses against me. “Hey that took a lot of energy.”

  I’m still naked when I lift her into my arms and open the bathroom door, walking her down the aisle and across the living room into my room.

  The only problem, I notice, is that the front door suddenly opens.

  I turn away, giving the intruder my ass.

  “Oh wow. You’ve been doing squats.” Comes Ambrose’s voice.

  I turn with her in my arms. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  “Yeah it is.” Chloe grins. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

  I swear I’m still at half mast, naked, looking like an idiot, I will never live this down. I will never be able to walk away from this.

  Ambrose goes to the kitchen and grabs a key. “Forgot the storage unit key, so I flew back real quick so MB could move in the rest of her stuff but you guys,” He gives us a thumbs up. “Doing great, clearly, um…” He cracks a smile. “Do continue your bedroom olympics, I’ll be rooting for gold.”

  “Out!” I yell.

  “Or in?” He teases.

  I flip him off, still holding onto Chloe.

  Ambrose just laughs and slams the door behind him.

  “So.” I nod. “He just saw my naked ass, half erection, and all for a stupid key, should we charge him next time?”

  She looks down. “It is a full show, so at least two dollars, don’t you think?”

  “Ohhhh fast food money, good thinking.”

  “I mean, if you show your dick, you should at least get some fries with it, you know?”

  “Plus ketchup is included.” I laugh. “I think you’re on to something, but for now… we head to bed.”

  “I like that plan.” She snuggles up against me. “Now take me to bed.”

  “To sleep.” I clarify. “Only to sleep and get better.”

  She blinks up at me, eyes all innocent. “Whatever else would I do other than sleep by my suitor?”

  “OH wow, and you even said it in a southern accent. I can’t decide if I’m turned on or horrified that you did it so well.”

  She laughs and clings to me harder. “Just be proud.”

  “I’m always proud.” I nod. “Of you.”

  Her eyes well with tears. “Because I’m sick and can still laugh?”

  “No. Because you’re brave and you still cry.”

  I don’t let her answer as I walk into my bedroom and tuck her into bed. A tear slides down her cheek onto the pillow I will now officially never wash—ever. “I really like you, Quinn.”

  “You’re in luck! I really like you too.” I walk toward the light switch and hit it, then turn around. “Also, you should be sleeping, not talking.”

  She rolls her eyes, I can even see it in the dark. “I’ll try.”

  “Try harder and stop being a distraction before I jump into bed with you.”

  “Wouldn’t mind a cuddle.”

  “Wouldn’t mind another fuck, which is why I say no to gateway drugs like cuddling and will walk out of this room while you rest, doctors’ orders, shit I just had a very, very vivid day dream about you in a nurse outfit, me as the doctor, ordering you around, you drop a pen, pick it up, our fingers touch, you try to stab me with it, I pull you into an empty room and—“

  Her grin is huge. “—And?”

  “And I give you CPR because you had a stroke from me touching you?” I laugh. “Yeah, okay, soap opera story time is done now, I’ll just see myself out.” I literally almost run into the door before opening it and leaving the room.

  When I finally do, I go to the couch and sit.

  I just sit.

  My naked self sits.

  And I stare at the wall, wishing that I was staring at her.

  Life is so extremely strange, but for the first time in a long time, I feel light, I feel like maybe this is it for me. That she’s it for me, that I can be happy. I quickly change into a pair of sweats, grab her some water and set it on the nightstand for her, she’s already sleeping, then go turn on the tv and stare some more.

  You’d think I’d be into the show.

  Instead, it’s just pictures, movements, nothingness, all I see, even while watching TV—is her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Chloe

  I wake up in a weird bed, then remember why it feels weird. My phone is plugged in next to me and I have about a billion missed texts from Sophie, what? Now she’s concerned?

  I’m super confused when I see what they say.

  Sophie

  I’m sorry. Is Quinn taking care of you the way good boyfriends do? Mom and Dad are MIA again.