Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 50770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
My phone buzzes.
Quinn the Eagle
So, I’m here and I’m watching you stare at your phone and I realize how creepy that sounds, but I did bring Twizzlers, also, I’m not a serial killer, thought I’d just throw that out there, not that you should be concerned because serial killers tend to bring masking tape and garbage bags on dates, but our first interaction was random on both ends, top, bottom, soaring like a MF through the air, so if you want to bail, I can take the Twizzlers home and cry into some ice cream, maybe go for a long walk on the beach while listening to The Rose. I’ll keep my distance until you decide.
I start to laugh, then realize…
Me
Um, the fact that you know what serial killers bring on dates is extremely concerning but I’ll let you approach, I brought pepper spray and even though you attempted to fly like a MF through the air this morning, I think it was more of a… it’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s… splat. But I do think that you saved that ending in the most vacation way, so points on the landing, however inappropriate it was.
I look to my left and there he stands, even more gorgeous, huge smile and wearing none other than a vintage-looking SpongeBob shirt.
He points at it, salutes me, and winks.
I never thought in my life I would think a wink was so sexy, but there he stands. He walks over and smiles. “May I continue to approach?”
Quinn is wearing black-rimmed glasses, his man bun is on point just making him look like the hot guy that tried to stay below the radar but actually knew his own prowess.
I look away and try not to smile, but really, what can a girl do? When I finally look back up, he is right in front of me.
“Um, hi, I’m Quinn, the random guy that fell between your thighs. I was captain of the mathletes two years running, taught my own grandpa how to play squash at the ripe old age of eighty. I hate the wind, the cold, basically anything that makes me want to chokehold someone. I like to run. I think you’re really pretty, and I think a matinee should only be held before the early bird special where I will then order all the food at four pm then crash on my couch—naturally covered in plastic to protect it at all costs—“
“I would expect nothing less.” I grab his hand and shake it, then hold it there between us like this solid moment.
“And…” He leans in, pulling my arm with him until my elbow makes contact with his clearly banging warm body. “…I’m still dealing with a bit of a broken heart, so tread lightly, maybe buy me some Milk Duds when you pretend to go to the bathroom to check your impeccable makeup. Oh, and two plus two does in fact equal four.” He winks again. “See? Genius.”
“God doesn’t make men like you.”
“I’m like Lady Gaga, I was born this way.”
I drop his hand. “Wow, and you were doing so good!”
He scrunches up his nose, making his glasses move. “Yeah well, I think it’s smart to show weakness so you don’t just front on a first date… at three in the afternoon, after you know…” He makes a motion with his hands as if he is flailing. “That.”
“Ah that, what we shall never speak of again.”
He turns to the side, choking on his laugh. “Yeah, that.”
“That.”
“Did I just turn into a Harry Potter character or just create my own Dungeons and Dragons one? I can’t tell?”
We walk toward the theater side by side and honestly I want to grab his hand but know it is early and also he could be a serial killer, he takes one look at me again and accidentally bumps into a tall guy with no shirt on, tons of tattoos who looks vaguely familiar.
I pause.
Quinn pauses, tilts his head. “Hey aren’t you Zane Andrews?”
The guy in question smirks what could only be described as the most perfect smile in the universe of smiles, you know, attached to his mouth, things were malfunctioning in my head, he has dark ruffled hair and again, no shirt just nothing but abs and ripped jeans, flip-flops and what looked like brand new ink on his chest. “Shhhh, I only came here to grab my wife popcorn.”
Quinn nods and holds out his hand for a high five. “Up top.”
“It’s like I knew we were already vibing.” The guy doesn’t take off his Ray-Bans but looks around like he is nervous. “Don’t tell anyone I was here though, baby on the way, she wanted popcorn, it was a whole thing and I really, really loathe the crazy paparazzi in Seaside.”
We both look around.
I swear a tumble weed just randomly chose death and went across the road into oncoming traffic.