Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Quinn
Just A Girl
No Doubt
The alarm clock cuts through the room, shrill and insistent. I groan and burrow deeper into the pillow, warm and half tangled in sheets that smell like him. A heavy arm tightens around my waist, tugging me closer, and for a second I forget what day it is.
Then my eyes crack open. Sunlight spills across the room. The clock blinks a time that makes my stomach drop. “Oh my God!”
I push up on my elbows, hair falling into my face.
Beside me, Mikey squints at the clock, still half asleep, confusion turning into sudden awareness.
We move at the same time. Sheets fly. Laughter mixes with mild panic as we scramble out of bed, stepping on discarded clothes, searching for things that should be obvious but aren’t.
“This is your fault,” I hop on one foot while trying to find my jeans.
His laugh follows me. “My fault? You’re the one who woke me up two times during the night.”
“Is that a complaint?” My hand balls into a fist as it lands on my now jutting hip.
“Absolutely not.” He cocks a satisfied grin my way. “But it definitely makes us sleeping late your fault.”
I glare over my shoulder, and somehow that turns into him catching my wrist to yank me back to him. The rush of the morning fades for a moment, replaced by warmth and familiar hands and the way his smile turns softer when he looks at me now. The kiss starts playful. It doesn’t stay that way.
Time slips again; hands, laughter, breathless whispers and kissing until reality crashes back in with the reminder that we’re still late. I shove at his chest, laughing. “I’m never making it to work at this rate.”
He grins against my mouth. “Tell me it’s not worth it.”
I roll my eyes and dart toward the bathroom before he can distract me again. Steam fills the shower, hot water pounding against my shoulders as I try to mentally shift my brain into work mode. Emails. Patients. Meetings. Real life.
But the weekend lingers under my skin, and my stomach flips as I recall the slow mornings, shared meals, the easy way we kept finding each other without thinking.
I think about how natural everything felt.
About how normal it was waking up in his bed like I already belong there.
I smile to myself, rinsing shampoo from my hair.
By the time I turn off the water, I can smell coffee brewing from the kitchen, and the music Mikey likes to listen to is on low. It’s the kind of quiet domestic noise that makes something warm bloom in my chest. I wrap my robe around myself and step into the bedroom, drying my hair.
Mikey stands near the bed, jeans buttoned, belt hanging loose. My phone is in his hand. He glances up, expression shifting the moment he sees me. “Sorry.” He lifts the phone slightly, thumb brushing the edge. “It kept ringing.”
I stop, suddenly aware of a small shift in him. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and suddenly I’m curious who the call could have been from. “Who was it?”
He sets the phone down on the table next to the bed, fingers lingering for a second before pulling away to grab his shirt off the bed. “Your realtor.”
The words land soft, but my stomach flips anyway. He runs a hand through his hair, gaze dropping briefly before meeting mine again. “The apartment on Southport is yours if you want it. She said to call her back.”
Now I understand why the air feels different. It’s not tense, just quieter. “Oh.” I reach for my phone, fingers brushing the warm spot where his hand had been.
“Thanks.” I glance up at him again, studying his face this time instead of my phone. “You okay?”
He stills for half a second. Not long. Most people wouldn’t notice. I do. “Yeah,” he says easily, too easily. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shrug, trying to keep it light. “I don’t know. Just felt like the room got a little heavier.”
His mouth tips slightly at that, like he almost smiles but doesn’t. “Maybe you’re just overthinking it.”
“Maybe,” I echo, but I don’t quite believe it. I shift my weight, fingers tightening around my phone. “Mikey, I haven’t decided anything yet.”
And I feel that hit with him. Not heavy.
Not dramatic, but real. He gaze flicks back to mine, something unreadable passing before it smooths out.
“Yeah, you should take your time with that.” And then he nods, shifting toward the dresser, pulling his shirt over his head.
The moment slides away as quickly as it arrived, as he tosses over his shoulder. “We’re seriously late.”
I laugh softly, trying to shake the strange feeling that settled between us. We move around each other in familiar chaos grabbing bags, hunting for keys, stealing quick sips of coffee. At the door he leans down, pressing a fast kiss to my mouth. Warm. Familiar. Slightly rushed. “See you tonight.”
“Okay, have a good day at the studio.”
Then he’s gone.
Work swallows me whole. Emails. Intense conversations with patients.
The steady rhythm of the day. But my mind keeps drifting back to the bedroom.
The way he held my phone. The slight pause before he said apartment.
I shake it off. He was probably just distracted.
We were late. I’m sure it’s nothing more. Still, the thought lingers.
Before this weekend, the apartment felt simple. A temporary solution. A practical choice. Now it feels heavier. Like it means something I’m not ready to define. By late afternoon I cave and call Sadie. She answers almost immediately.
“Hey little sister, how was the rest of your weekend?”
“It was good.” I smile without even realizing I am.
“Well, don’t you sound suspiciously happy?” I can hear her grinning through the phone.
I laugh, leaning back in my chair. “Do I?”
“My phone is actually glowing. Spill.”
I hesitate for half a second, then everything tumbles out about the weekend, the way we barely left the apartment, how easy everything felt. Not details. Just the feeling of it.
Her approval warm and knowing. “That sounds really nice.”
“It was.” My fingers brushing over lips that won’t seem to stop tilting up today. “It just felt easy.”
“And that’s scary?”
I sigh. “A little.” I pause before spilling the rest of my news. “This morning my realtor called. That cute apartment I told you I looked at? It’s mine if I want it.”
Sadie hums thoughtfully. “That’s a good thing, though, right?”
“I thought so, but now it feels weird,” I admit quietly. “Like, I’m not sure what the correct move is anymore. I mean, it’s too soon for me to consider something permanent with him, right?”
“You don’t have to decide everything right now.”
I chew my lip, staring at my desk, confusion about Mikey swirling around in my brain.
“Have you been by the studio today?” The question slips out casually, but I hear the slight edge of curiosity in my own voice.
Sadie pauses, and I know she catches it. “Yeah. I was there for a little while around lunchtime. He seemed normal. They were all really busy working on a new song.”
I nod slowly. “I don’t even know what this is yet,” I whisper. “I don’t want to rush or assume anything.”
“Then don’t,” her voice gentle. “Just let it be what it is. And Quinn, talk to him.”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.” I exhale, tension easing slightly. “But I know I don’t want to mess it up.”
“You won’t.” Her confidence steadies me more than she knows. Until I get home. The apartment feels too quiet when he’s not here. I change clothes, make something simple to eat when Mikey’s not home by seven, and keep glancing at my phone.
Nothing. The silence stretches. Until a message finally comes from him around nine. It’s short and to the point:
Don’t wait up. Late night at the studio.
I stare at the screen longer than I should.
Because that doesn’t sound like him. Relief flickers, because he texted.
But something about the brevity makes my chest tighten.
I set the phone down and wander through the apartment, turning off lights, straightening things that don’t need straightening. The quiet feels heavier tonight.
Eventually I stand at the end of the hallway.
Two doors. My room. His room. I stare at them longer than I mean to, fingers tightening around my phone.
If I sleep in his bed, what does that mean?
If I don’t what does that mean? The apartment hums softly around me, the city distant outside the windows.
I take a slow breath and walk down the hallway.