Chapter 42 Life isn’t a Disney Movie
Life isn't a Disney Movie
Tripp
“It’s all wonky-donkey,” Allie says from several feet away. “It needs to be higher on your side to make it less crooked.”
I lift the edge of the banner. “Better?”
“Perfect!”
I tie it off and step down the ladder, peering up at my handiwork. The carnival banner that Allie made for the end-of-the-year celebration at the elementary school is loud and colorful, just like her.
“What’s next?” I ask, glancing at my phone and hoping to find a text from Quinn.
Even though we talked things over during our movie night last week, things still feel a little stilted between us—like we’re both walking on eggshells, trying to keep conversations light and superficial. We’ve never needed to be guarded with each other before, and it feels wrong.
I figure the best way forward is to get back to our usual rhythm—to pick up where we left off with her list. I’m eager to have her alone again, to remind her this can still be easy and fun. Casual, like she wanted. Even if it’s not for me.
I refuse to believe I ruined what we had just because I fell for her.
Keeping emotion out of sex with Quinn was like splitting hairs—impossible, no matter how many times I told myself otherwise.
I texted her a picture of the package I’d gotten in the mail yesterday, telling her I had a little surprise for her and that we should make a date whenever she had time.
I shouldn’t be disappointed she hasn’t messaged me back. I’ve been busy all morning helping Allie at the school, and Wes said Dr. Dillard asked her to assist with an on-site surgery, so I know she’s tied up too. Still, I can’t help checking my phone every few minutes for a response.
“We need to put together the Plinko board,” Allie says, leading the way to a stack of wood a parent had brought in.
I grunt and kneel on the grass and grab the drill.
“You’re quiet today,” she says, sifting through the woodpile to find the instructions.
“Am I?”
I hadn’t noticed. I’ve been lost in my thoughts—hoping that everything with Quinn could be salvaged.
“You’ve got a broody face,” she says, waving a hand vaguely. “Like you’re about to recite depressing poetry to a sad but distinguished goat.”
I snort at the ridiculous analogy. “Maybe I’m just tired of building carnival games for my little sister.”
She gives me a knowing look. “Or maybe you can’t stop thinking about a certain friend of mine.”
I glance over the instruction manual and search through the pile for two pieces that go together. “I try not to think about Sawyer more than necessary.”
“Uh huh. We both know that’s not the friend I’m talking about. Why don’t you—“
I press the button on the screw gun, drowning out whatever else she’s going to say.
She rolls her eyes. “Fine, we won’t talk about Quinn or the fact you couldn’t keep it in your pants, even though her brother is your best friend and your boss.”
If she only knew how hard I tried to keep it in my pants.
“I can’t believe you’d risk your job and your friendship over a fling.”
“It’s not—“ I start to argue but stop. Because it is a fling. That’s what Quinn wanted. What I pinky swore to.
Maybe it’s more for me, but it’s not for her. I knew that going in. I’m me, and she’s her. I’ll never be more than a good time to her, no matter how much I care, no matter how completely I’ve already fallen for her.
“We’re friends,” I finally say. “I’ve always cared about her.”
Allie watches me with newfound interest as I find the next pieces and screw them together.
Her eyes light up. “Oh my gosh. How did I not see it before?”
“See what?” I grunt.
“You’ve got Disney prince goo-goo eyes for Quinn.” She’s grinning like someone just dumped a basket of puppies in her lap—little sisters are fucking menaces.
I can’t let Allie find out I’ve got feelings for Quinn. She’s such a hopeless romantic, she’d spin it into some fated love story, and I’d probably start believing her.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
She frowns, glancing around. “Don’t swear. There could be kids around. And I’m talking about your eyes getting all sparkly when I say Quinn’s name.
I shoot her an irritated look. My eyes definitely don’t sparkle when I think about Quinn—about how pretty she is curled up on my couch in my boxers, eating an entire bag of Peanut Butter M&Ms and falling asleep against me.
“So many sparkles!”
I try to laugh off the accusation, but I’m tired of pretending, and it falls flat.
“Aw, you’re so in love with her.”
I run a hand through my hair and give an exasperated groan.
I’ve never been in love before. But this? Yeah. I imagine this is exactly what love feels like. Like someone ripping your heart from your chest and keeping it for themselves. Leaving you standing in front of them, bleeding out with nothing left to give—still wholly inadequate for what they deserve.
“You’re absurd,” I say, unable to deny it outright.
“Wes is gonna kill you,” she sing-songs.
“You think I don’t know that?” I bite out between gritted teeth.
She throws me a sidelong glance. “What’s your plan?”
I flick my gaze to hers. “Am I ever the guy with a plan?”
“Good point. You need a grand gesture like... giving her a private library or a romantic boat ride or take her somewhere, show her the world or—“
I shake my head, lips curving into a smile despite myself. “Allie, you’re just listing off grand gestures from Disney movies.”
There was a reason Allie was a kindergarten teacher. The woman knew her Disney, and I grew up being subjected to every single princess movie that existed.
She shrugs. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t good ideas.”
“It’s not like that,” I say. “Quinn’s not in love with me.”
Her eyes dart to mine, and her eyebrows reach her hairline as she gives me a surprised stare. “Quinn’s been in love with you since high school, maybe even junior high.”
I scoff. “No, she hasn’t.”
Allie opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “Maybe she used to have a little crush, but things aren’t like that now.”
“Right. Because now it’s not just a little crush,“ she presses.
I shake my head. “Life isn’t a Disney movie, Allie.”
My phone dings, and I peer at the screen.
Quinnie
I can be there at 4.
A smile curves my lips. Always so eager.
It’s a date.
“Life isn’t a Disney movie,” she says, her voice a poor mimicry of mine. “And yet there you are, staring at your phone with hearts in your eyes.”
I ignore her, screwing the last board in place. “That should do it.”
“You can’t just ignore me.”
I smirk. “I can, and I will.”
She rolls her eyes and starts placing the pegs into the Plinko board.
“Now, if you don’t need anything else, I’m gonna go home and shower.”
“Fine. But I think you’re both being stupid not admitting what this really is. And if you’re too scared to tell her how you feel, then you’d better be prepared to lose her. She’s not the type to wait around here forever.”
Don’t I know it.