Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mikey
Only Wanna Be With You
Hootie messy, sleepy, and grinning like an idiot.
I pause, toothbrush halfway to my mouth.
Yeah. I’m in it. And I don’t even want out.
By the time I step into the kitchen, the smell of coffee fills the air. Quinn stands at the counter, hair messy, humming quietly while she pops slices of bread into the toaster. The sight stops me for a second. It’s such a small thing. So ordinary. So domestic. And it hits me right in the chest.
I walk up behind her without thinking, sliding my arms around her waist. She leans back into me like she was waiting for it. “Morning, baby.” The word slips out before I think. I don’t take it back. I just drop a kiss against the back of her head.
She laughs softly. “Didn’t we already do this part?”
“I don’t know,” I chuckle, tightening my hold. “Feels like we might’ve skipped something.”
She tilts her head back, eyes sparkling. “You mean like yesterday morning?”
My grin grows. “Maybe.”
She turns in my arms, hands sliding up my chest. “I mean… if you’re game.”
“Dangerous thing to say.”
Her smile turns wicked. That’s all the invitation I need.
I kiss her slowly at first, letting it build; the warmth of her, the soft sound she makes when I pull her closer.
No rush this time. We already know where this goes.
My hands slide beneath the hem of the shirt, fingertips brushing warm skin as her breath catches.
The toaster pops loudly behind us. Neither of us moves. The kitchen fills with quiet laughter, with heat and tangled limbs and the kind of urgency that feels playful instead of reckless like we’re both learning how to fit together in this new way. And the world narrows again.
Later, when we’re both laughing and breathless and the coffee has gone slightly cold, I lean back against the counter, watching her tuck her hair behind her ear.
“We should probably leave the apartment today,” I suggest, still catching my breath.
She raises a brow. “You already tired of me?”
“Never.” I grin. “But it’s almost October. Not gonna be too many warm days left. Figured we should take advantage. We could hit this cool farmer’s market that’s just a few blocks away.”
She studies me for a second, then smiles, soft and easy. “Okay,” she shrugs. “Let’s go.”
We finish our coffee, do a quick clean-up of the kitchen, and then take a quick shower, separately this time. When we step outside, the air is cool, the city buzzing softly around us.
She walks close beside me, shoulder brushing mine every few steps like it’s unconscious. I don’t move away. Instead, I pull her hand into mine, her fingers threading into mine like we’ve done it a thousand times.
The market is crowded but not overflowing in that way that makes you feel claustrophobic.
There’s music drifting from somewhere, people weaving between stalls, the smell of coffee and fresh bread hanging in the air.
We wander slowly. She stops at a produce stand, inspecting tomatoes like its serious business while I pretend not to laugh.
“You judging me?” Her attention focused entirely on the tomato in her hand.
“Absolutely.” I grin. It feels easy.
We pick out things for dinner; vegetables, fresh bread and something sweet she insists we need for dessert, even though we definitely don’t. At one stall selling vintage band T-shirts, the guy behind the table looks up and freezes.
“Holy shit.” His eyes widening. “You’re Mikey, right? The drummer for Devil’s Halo?”
I’m wearing a ball cap and sunglasses, but sometimes it’s still hard to keep a low profile. I give him a polite smile as I stroll a bit closer to his table. “Yeah, man.”
He launches into how he saw our last show a few weeks ago, how the show changed his life, the usual stuff. I’m used to it. It’s nice. I’m not always the one to get recognized. Then his eyes flick toward Quinn. He grins. “Didn’t realize you had a girlfriend.”
Girlfriend. I don’t correct him. I like the way it sounds.
And that’s new. Without conscious thought, my hand slides to the small of Quinn’s back, like it belongs there.
She glances up at me, surprised, and that’s when I realize I did it.
My brain stutters for half a second. Because normally I’d laugh it off.
Keep things vague. Avoid labels. But standing there with her tucked against my side, the word doesn’t feel wrong.
If anything, it feels right. Dangerously right.
I just smile at the guy, nodding like it’s no big deal. Instead, the only thought that runs through my mind is, yeah, I could get used to that. I don’t say it out loud. I just smile, shrug a little, and keep the conversation moving.
When we walk away, Quinn glances at me like she’s waiting for something, a clarification, maybe. I squeeze her hand lightly and offer nothing else. Neither of us says anything and neither of us lets go of the other.
The walk back is quieter. Not awkward. Just both of us lost in our thoughts. Her fingers stay linked with mine, swinging slightly between us, and something about that feels more intimate than anything that happened so far this weekend. Like, this is real now.
Back at the apartment, she drops onto the couch with a tired sigh. “All that fresh air and walking, and you keeping me up half the night…”
“You’re exhausted.” I watch as she slumps further into the couch cushions.
“I’m just resting my eyes.” She’s asleep within five minutes.
I stand there and watch her for a few minutes, then I start moving.
Laundry first, because apparently, we’ve already reached the stage where her clothes are mixed in with mine.
It doesn’t bother me though, instead it causes something warm to settle low in my stomach.
I pause holding one of her shirts, then lift it anyway.
It smells like her. I shake my head, smiling to myself, then toss it into the washer.
When I walk back into the living room, she’s curled tighter into the couch, hair falling across her face.
I grab a blanket and drape it over her carefully.
She shifts but doesn’t wake. My fingers brush her hair back and I lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead.
She sighs in her sleep and something inside me goes quiet.
I cook while she naps. I turn on some music, but keep it low.
The pan sizzles softly and the apartment smells like garlic and butter and something that feels dangerously close to home.
Every few minutes I glance over at her. She looks peaceful.
Like she belongs here. The thought sneaks up on me before I can stop it but I realize I don’t hate it.
She wakes blinking sleepily as she sits up. “You cooked?” Her nose scrunches in the cutest way as she inhales deeply.
I smirk. “I think I’ve proved my skills in the kitchen, but happy to demonstrate again.”
She laughs softly, padding into the kitchen, still wrapped in the blanket. She leans against the counter watching me, and for a second I just stare back. And somehow it doesn’t feel weird anymore.
Dinner is quiet, comfortable. At one point she shares, almost absentmindedly, “Today felt so normal.”
I glance up, my brow quirking up. “Good normal?”
She nods as she smiles. “Yeah.” Something warm spreads through my chest. We don’t push the conversation further. We don’t need to.
Later, the apartment settles into evening calm. She’s curled beside me again, head resting on my shoulder while we watch something neither of us is paying attention to. Her fingers trace lazy circles against my arm.
I look down at her and realize I’m already dreading tomorrow. The end of this. The return to schedules and rehearsals and everything outside these walls. I tighten my arm around her slightly. She melts closer without thinking.
And it hits me, quiet and undeniable. I don’t just want this weekend. I want what comes after it. I hold her a little closer, a little tighter, like some part of me already knows this kind of quiet never lasts.