“Hey, you good?” Quinn frowns. “You look kind of pale?”

  “Is that a question?”

  “Well, if Cinderella’s carriage is currently turning back into a pumpkin, isn’t it the prince’s job to help save her from the mice?” His grin is infectious, but I can tell he’s worried, I’m not ready though, not ready to tell.

  “Why are the mice bad again?” I laugh.

  He smiles and pulls me into his arms across the couch. “They eat their young.”

  “Right.” I nod in agreement. “So you just don’t want me to get… bit?”

  His teeth cause goosebumps as they scrape down my neck before he presses a kiss to my collarbone. Is it horrible to beg him to bite me? “Maybe it’s jealousy.”

  “It’s something.”

  “Seriously though, are you okay? I can take you back home, I just—I don’t know, it’s your birthday and I want to be with you. I wish I could do more.”

  He has no idea he’s doing everything that nobody has ever done by just existing and actually offering to do something.

  I take a deep breath and rest against his chest. I can feel his heart through my palm, his skin is even warm through his shirt. I love it. I love that I could easily tap my fingers to his heartbeat.

  I love that he’s funny and serious at the same time.

  I love so much.

  And then I wonder, if I’m laying with a stranger or a guy I’ve known for two days, sleeping with him, and just existing with him on my birthday, is the love I’ve known or thought I known my entire life, an actual lie?

  Shit. Immediately, it hits me. I really am going to start an episode, I can feel it not physically as much as emotionally. I’m getting anxious and depression is creeping in.

  I feel the darkness coming.

  Tears burn the back of my eyes, why is it always like this? That when my body starts to completely betray me, my mind does too? I feel out of control, I feel like the world isn’t the same, that the sun just set and abandoned me along with everyone else. And then I feel guilty for feeling that way, like my anxiety is somehow a selfish emotion.

  I take a few deep breaths.

  “Hey.” Quinn pulls me up onto his lap. God, he’s a gorgeous distraction with his straight white toothed smile, small dimples, messy man bun. I can’t, the list will just go on and on if I keep checking him out. His warmth though, it’s not just the way he looks, it’s, wow, it’s the way he looks at me.

  I don’t know if I’ve ever had anyone look at me the way he does.

  Is this what feeling special is like?

  Feeling unique?

  Like the most important person in the others world that they can’t for one second look away?

  “You’re still beautiful.” He cups my chin with his hand, I suddenly realize how large it is, his thumb brushes across my lower lip. “I just want to take care of you on this day, mainly every day, even though you’re probably still wondering if I’m a serial killer.”

  “You’re not.”

  “I’m not.”

  “See? Though, we do need to have our first fight in order to solidify all assumptions, until then—“ He leans in at the same time a knock sounds at the door.

  “Cockblocking Ambrose, I’m gonna murder him…” The door opens and Zane Andrews, you know famous, gorgeous guy we saw earlier strolls right on in like he owns the place.

  He drops his phone and sunglasses on the kitchen counter and stretches his arms over his head.

  He’s literally wearing no shirt, only low-slung ripped jeans that show his black Calvin Klein underwear and he has a weird smile on his face.

  “Bro, you high?” Quinn asks. “Also, why? Just why?”

  Zane frowns. “No, I just made a neighborhood decision.”

  “What’s that?” I whisper under my breath.

  “Hey there.” He winks a blue eye in my direction. “Anyway, neighborhood decision…” He walks around the couch, then plops down next to me. “Basically, the kid shit his pants again, the wife is gone, the nanny is present because my beautiful wife had to go out of town and when I saw an escape from shit, I took it, and then I told everyone else—also yes, parenting isn’t for the weak and I haven’t had time off in years from not only my work but from wiping asses, so don’t judge me with your judgmental eyes.”

  I hold up my hands. “No judgement over the shit.”

  He peers around me. “I think she’s a keeper.”

  Quinn sighs. “Okay, so what’s this about?”

  “We’re having a barbeque, might play some pong.” He sighs. “Or maybe even nap, actually, damn, can you imagine how nice it would be to just… lay down?”

  “Do you not… er, sleep?” I ask.

  His left eye twitches.

  Quinn leans in and whispers, “I think that was a no.”

  “Anyway!” Zane jumps up. “The life of a rockstar and full-time dad is exhausting and I’m starting work on the new album next week so I think I deserve some time out, oh shit, you guys watching Pretty Woman?” He proceeds to jump between us on the couch—still shirtless mind you while another knock sounds at the door. “It’s open!”

  “It’s not your house,” Quinn grumbles under his breath.

  Zane scoffs. “Actually, it’s not your house either, besides, did you not hear the explanation? No shitty diapers. I get to sit here.”

  “Shirtless.” I add, staring at his chest.

  He points at me. “Very perceptive of you and while I did used to go around with no shirt on, the only reason I pulled mine off today was because it had chocolate on it—was touch and go there for a minute there when I thought it was poop.”

  Quinn and I frown at each other.

  I speak up first. “How did you know it was chocolate?”

  Zane shrugs. “Oh, I tasted it.” The door opens. “Hey man!”

  A guy pops his head in, then pulls out a giant case of beer. He’s vaguely familiar and I’m just about to place him when Quinn curses under his breath. “You brought Jamie?”

  “Heard that,” Jamie says, his voice has a slight British accent.

  I’m still frowning when it dawns on me. I’m not used to seeing him in real life, only on TV.

  I raise my hand.

  “Awww.” Jamie grins. “She’s adorable, we’re keeping her, right?”

  “She’s not a pet!’ Quinn yells.

  “How many famous cousins do you have again?” I say in a weak voice. “So I can mentally and emotionally prepare for more shock?”

  I’m already sick.

  Pale.

  Not feeling great.

  And now my heart is hammering against my chest because the Jamie Jaymeson is standing in Ambrose’s living room or I guess, Quinns now. If he has such famous friends or family, why is he crashing at Ambrose’s place?

  “Oh, he’s loaded.” Zane gets up and grabs a chip from the counter, then looks over his shoulder. “You said it out loud.” He bites down and chews—loudly. “The whole weird why is Quinn crashing at Ambrose—“

  “—Thanks man.” Quinn interrupts.

  “Anytime, bro,” Zane turns to Jamie, “The rest of them coming?”

  “Yup.” He checks his cell. “Though getting the OGs to leave their plethora of kids got semi difficult.”

  “OG’s?” I repeat.

  “The guys from Adrenaline, the boy band that just got back together and oh shit is she gonna be okay?” Jamie waves a hand in front of my face and I swear I still see that hand two hours later when the entire back yard is full of guys and their wives, beer, wine, hot dogs, hamburgers, and competitive corn hole—no like they legit brought more sets to have a competition.

  So far some tall guy with a bald head who looks like he could be part of the Russian Mob has threatened to break up two fights, though the fights were more funny than anything.

  Two guys with earpieces are at the gate drinking beer, when I asked if they were security, the only answer I was given was Chicago sent us for the week.

  My answer was. “I didn’t know a city could send people.” I laughed awkwardly, they didn’t and looked like they would eat their own young, wearing black suits, covered in hand tattoos, one had this giant bird around his neck, it looked like a raven.

  They smiled, but it was calculated, so I got the hell out of that section of the yard and went in search of Quinn.

  I was starting to feel even more sick as the night progressed, so the minute I saw him sitting at one of the tables, I pulled out a chair and sat down. The ocean breeze was at least helping a little bit.

  “So.” I drummed my pink fingernails against the glass table while my hair whipped across my mouth. “You’re kind of a big deal then?”

  Quinn grinned and lifted a bottle of water to his lips, set it down and reached for a small glass of whiskey next to his thigh, he downed it in one big swipe and set it down on the table, then held out his hand. “Let’s not talk about me, it’s not my birthday, now is it?”

  In that moment, Zane started shouting, everyone was laughing, and then he jumped on a chair and pointed at me. “Happy Birthday, strange girl I don’t know!”

  Cheers erupted around us.

  I had to laugh, it had been years since I’d been at a party let alone get acknowledged at one, even though it wasn’t my party.

  Zane jumps down from the chair and starts belting out happy birthday while slowly walking toward me and I truly do feel dizzy, but I can’t tell if it’s because he’s so pretty to look at or because his voice is so good.

  He stops right in front of me and does a little bow.

  Quinn curses next to me. “Seduce your wife, not my girlfriend.”

  Girlfriend?

  I smile to myself.

  Zane rolls his eyes. “I’m obsessed with my wife and you know this.”

  “Right.” Quinn sighs. “You just can take the musician out of LA, but you can never truly take away their seductive ability on stage.”

  Jamie snorted out next to me. “According to Zane, he can’t help but ooze. What was that sexuality? Wait, weren’t you a virgin until like twenty—“

  “—-okay singing time is over.” Zane grabs Jamie by the back of the neck and shoves him toward the cornhole chaos.

  Quinn kisses the top of my head. “They’re all happily married and harmless, but seriously, they just can’t help themselves sometimes.”

  “Meh, I assume that’s Hollywood.”

  “No, that’s just them being too good looking and talented and being told it on a daily basis while everyone around them kisses their asses.”

  “Heard that!” Jamie yelled.

  Quinn wraps his arm around me. “Hey, you still look kind of pale, why don’t we call it a night?”

  “Sending me home on my birthday?” I tease.

  He squeezes my shoulder and leads me toward the outdoor deck. “Hell no, you’re spending the night, but you do seem tired, we can just… cuddle.”

  I smack him in the chest. “Just cuddle? With a perfectly healthy good-looking guy on my birthday?”

  He smiles down at me and grabs my hand, helping me up the stairs. “It doesn’t always have to be about sex, Chloe, sometimes, a guy just wants to hold the girl he likes.

  I fall asleep that night in his arms. Safe. Protected. Wanted.

  Happy.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Quinn

  Okay listen, I’m not exactly proud of my man-whorish background but at least I can be proud that the gorgeous girl laying across my chest, burning it up, ended up truly just sleeping in my arms.

  See? I can show some damn restraint!

  Chloe’s phone starts to buzz where I left it on the nightstand, I don’t want to wake her up since she wasn’t feeling so good last night, plus she looks so peaceful. I slowly pry her away and grab the phone in a hushed voice, answering, “Hey, Sophie.”

  She doesn’t say anything at first, then blurts out, “What? Did you kidnap my sister on her birthday or something?”

  I turn and look at her. “Yeah, something like that, happy birthday, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” She doesn’t sound thankful, instead she sounds downright hostile, then again I haven’t had coffee yet and I’m not a huge fan of getting interrupted when I have a gorgeous girl in my arms, though she does seem to feel really hot to the touch and the fact that she hasn’t even stirred is weird.

  “Anyway…” Sophie’s voice is a bit lighter. “My parents were trying to get ahold of her and wanted to know how she was doing, but she wasn’t answering her phone.”

  I don’t check the missed calls but frown down at her sleeping form. I love her in my white t-shirt more than I should admit. “Well, she did say she was tired yesterday, and she does feel a bit warm—“

  “—Shit, I knew it! See, this is why you don’t—“ She cuts herself off. “Whatever, give me your address and I’ll be there in a few minutes to grab her.”

  “What if I don’t want you to grab her?”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you’re an idiot?”

  “Often, yes, anyone ever tell you that you’re rude?”

  She cackles out a laugh that kind of makes me want to both love and hate her at the same time. Something is off with her, but I go with it because it’s Chloe’s twin. “All the time, yes.”

  I take a hesitant deep breath. “Maybe we should work on our faults, I’ll go first, yes apparently I am being an idiot, but only because you’re too rude to tell me why you’re frustrated.”

  “That makes me second I guess,” She sighs long and hard into the phone, I can feel her pain and I suddenly feel sorry for her the way I’ve felt sorry for myself over the shit year I’ve had. And it has been a complete bomb of shit, like the kind of shit that makes you second guess all life choices. “It’s not for me to tell, but if she’s warm or hot to the touch, she has a fever and she’s gotten them a lot since she was like thirteen, so I need to come get her.”

  I reach out with my palm and touch her forehead again… she seems to be getting hotter. I touch my own forehead and go back and forth like a psycho for at least ten seconds. She’s not okay. And she needs more rest and hydration, obviously. “She’ll be okay though, right?”

  Sophie says something, but I can’t decipher what it is, then her voice is clear as day. “Get a damp compress, make sure she drinks some water, and I’ll be there in a few minutes oh and let me write down your address, ugh I’m so tired of this shit all the time.”

  “Phone calls with would be suitors?” I joke, trying to lighten the moment. Clearly it fails because her immediate response isn’t laughter. But a curse.

  “Hell no, having to take care of someone who’s so damn sick that it’s the only thing anyone ever sees.”

  She doesn’t say it, but I swear I can hear it. “See me.”

  My heart drops, my stomach sinks, and all because I feel sorry for her, because I know that feeling, and when you experience something like that, you one hundred percent recognize it in others.

  “Hey.” I swallow and get up, pressing the phone to my ear. “Are you okay?”

  I hear her gasp. It’s a few seconds before she goes. “Nobody ever asks me that.”

  “Well, that’s sad.”

  She laughs. “Life is sad, I prefer to live in the sadness and shadows.”

  “Then how do you ever see the light?”

  “Says someone I’m assuming lives the same way.”

  I almost drop the phone. Instead, I leave the room. I leave Chloe and I talk to Sophie. I take a step into the living room. What the hell am I even doing? “Get a pen.”

  She says nothing until finally. “I’m ready.”

  “She’s still sleeping.”

  I don’t know why I say it, and after I give her my address.

  After all of it.

  After it all.

  My concern for Chloe, my underlying understanding of Sophie—things feel weird. I stand outside and grip the balcony, watching the waves crash against the rocks.

  Something shifts in the wind.

  Something strong.

  Something disposable maybe, something new or old? Something that might change things.

  But just like the waves—it’s never the same.

  I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, with Chloe, with the strong feelings I have, but I know something’s coming.

  I count the waves as nervousness takes over.

  “Hey,” a voice sounds.

  It’s not Chloe.

  “I let myself in after knocking a billion times.”

  I bark out a laugh. “Damn, you sound like a bitch all the time, or is this just a me problem?”

  Sophie walks up to me and grips the balcony, her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, she has no makeup on and is wearing sweats. “Maybe it’s me.”

  “Mmmm, no self-control with resting bitch face? Is that an actual condition?”

  She turns to me, crossing her arms over her white sweat outfit, biting down on her bottom lip. “Should it be? I gotta admit, I’ve never seen it in the DSMV.”

  “The fact you even know what that is, wow, either impressive or concerning, I’m not sure which? I mean, do you watch Dateline, I heard that was a red flag for sociopaths.”

  Her smile is finally easy, free as she looks out at the waves. “I hate crime.”

  I gasp. “And yet you act like a villain! How dare you!”

  She leans down on the banister and sighs, resting her chin against her arms. “Do you ever wonder?”

  “Wonder what?”

  “Wonder what it would be like to feel like that,” She lifts a finger and points at the ocean. “To crash against a rock and slide through it, and do it over and over again, but never get bruised?”

  I have nothing to say but, “That’s not life. We hit something hard, and it hurts, but the hurt is what makes us feel, and when we feel we learn, at least some of us, but the point is, the ending doesn’t always have to be the same.”

  “I hate her,” she says immediately, standing and turning to me, her white sweats are almost too clean, her skin too perfect. “I hate her, do you want to know why?”