Chapter 43 Quentin #2
Quentin grabbed the last cookie from the snack table and handed it to her with a grin. She took it, rolled her eyes like he was ridiculous, and took a bite. Then casually grabbed his hand.
As they wove through the crowd, still holding hands, the murmurs started. Not quiet murmurs either. Oh-they’re-actually-doing-this murmurs. Heads turned and someone definitely gasped.
“Just so we’re clear,” he muttered under his breath, not looking at her, “you are still holding my hand.”
“Yes, Quentin.”
“In front of the entire crew.”
“Yes.”
“Like… witnesses and everything.”
She looked at him, unimpressed. “Do you need me to draw you a diagram?”
This is real. This is happening. She was voluntarily holding his hand in public.
He swallowed. “Just checking.”
“I know how hands work.”
He nodded seriously. “Okay. Great. Good. Just making sure we’re both aware of the… visibility.”
Oh my God. Her thumb just moved. She’s stroking my hand. Is this what astronauts feel like when they see Earth from space?
Joel, the camera operator, didn’t even attempt subtlety. He openly stared at their linked hands, then at their faces, like he was mapping out a scandal board with red string.
“So,” Joel said slowly, eyes narrowed, “are we soft-launching this or hard-launching?”
Quentin chuckled. “Nice try. I’m not saying anything. You just want to win the bet.”
“Damn. Worth a shot.”
He was about to say something to her. Something calm and reassuring. Like I will physically fight anyone who makes you uncomfortable. But before he could get a word out, Avery’s loud, slurred whoop cut through the barn like a foghorn.
“My boss found loooove, just like me!” she announced, her entire weight now resting against Reggie, looking up at him with glossy eyes.
“I’m not your boss, Avery,” Quentin muttered, shaking his head.
Reggie patted her head with the patience of a man who had seen this coming. “Water, babe. We need water.”
Avery pouted. “I think we added too much booze to the punch, Sadie.”
Sadie stifled a laugh. “Yeah, I think so.”
She turned to Quentin and whispered, “I think I intoxicated the entire party.”
Quentin raised an eyebrow and scanned the room.
The production assistants were aggressively grinding on each other like they were filming a low-budget music video, the camera loader was attempting the worm and failing, miserably, and even the normally stoic lighting tech was giggling at a wall like it had just cracked the world’s funniest joke.
Quentin squinted. “What exactly did you put in that punch?”
Sadie winced. “Gin. And, um… some bottles we found at the main house. It was clear?”
Quentin’s stomach sank. “Was it Everclear?”
“Maybe,” she said, looking suddenly unsure. Oh. Lord.
He pried Avery’s cup from her hands and took a cautious sniff. His face immediately scrunched in horror.
“Sadie,” he said, eyes watering, “this smells like it could remove paint.”
She laughed. “I thought it tasted aggressive.”
Quentin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, because it’s jet fuel in a cup.”
Sadie looked at the party, then back at Quentin, her lips twitching. “Sooo… we accidentally alcohol poisoned the entire wrap party?”
Quentin exhaled heavily, watching as another PA attempted a cartwheel and landed directly on their ass.
He exhaled again. “That feels accurate.”
Quentin made a beeline for the punch bowl, grabbed it with both hands, and hauled it over to the outdoor sink near the empty stable. He turned the faucet on full blast, drowning the liquid before it could claim any more victims.
Just as he was about to toss the ladle in for good measure, a loud, dramatic “BOOOO!” called out from behind him.
He turned to find Devi standing there, swaying slightly, her hands cupped around her mouth like she was heckling a baseball umpire.
“You suck,” she declared, wobbling but somehow staying upright. She threw a slow, exaggerated thumbs-down. “Go home.”
Sadie burst out laughing behind him.
Devi’s unfocused eyes snapped to her. “And you—” she started before stopping to squint. She pointed between the two of them, frowning in deep concentration. Then, suddenly, her expression softened, and she slumped forward, flinging her arms around Sadie in a hug.
“Your boyfriend is a buzzkill,” she muttered against Sadie’s shoulder.
Quentin raised an eyebrow. “I’m saving lives here, Devi.”
She ignored him completely, squeezing Sadie tighter. “Still love you, though.”
“Love you too,” Sadie said, patting her back.
Quentin watched, shaking his head. This was next-level chaos. It was drunk girls in the bathroom level of drunk except instead of fixing smudged eyeliner and hyping each other up, they were half a step away from needing a team of medics.
"Alright, Devi," he said, carefully peeling her off Sadie. "Let’s get you some water before you start making even worse life choices."
Devi pouted but let herself be led back toward the barn, her fingers still loosely curled around Sadie’s wrist.
"One punch bowl," Quentin muttered under his breath. "One batch of accidental Everclear, and we’ve got a full-blown frat house situation."
Sadie grinned. "Honestly, kind of impressive."
Quentin shot her a look. "Let’s just hope no one tries to climb onto the rafters."
At that exact moment, a loud "DO A FLIP!" erupted from inside the barn.
Sadie winced. "You had to say it."
Quentin ran a hand down his face, his patience fraying. “Fuck this,” he muttered under his breath. “I want to talk to you, not supervise a pack of overgrown toddlers with a death wish.”
He grabbed Sadie’s hand, intent on pulling her away, but she hesitated, glancing at the crowd with mild concern.
“Who’s going to mind the kids?” she asked, nodding toward the chaos unfolding inside. “This is my doing. I feel responsible for them.”
Quentin exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching.
He followed her gaze. Avery was spinning in slow circles, laughing at nothing, Joel was leaning against a support beam looking half-asleep, and in the middle of it all, two production assistants were attempting to piggyback wrestle while people chanted around them.
“Fine,” he grumbled. He stomped over to the snack table, eyes locking on the boombox blasting music. He yanked the plug from the socket, silencing the barn instantly. Heads whipped in his direction, a collective pause settling over the room.
Quentin crossed his arms. “Party’s over. Sleep it off. I highly recommend taking Advil tonight so you can get ahead of the hangover.”
For a moment, no one said anything. Then—
"BOOOOOO!"
Devi, naturally, led the charge, throwing both thumbs down like an overzealous Roman emperor. Within seconds, the entire barn joined in, booing Quentin like he had personally ruined their lives.
Sadie covered her mouth, barely holding in a laugh as Quentin just stared at them, unimpressed.
“You suck,” Devi added for good measure.
“Yeah, I know. You've told me.” Quentin said to Devi. He shook his head, looking over at Sadie with exasperation. “This is why I don't bother being nice. It just invites bullying.”
She smirked, stepping closer. “Please. You’re nice to everyone. I think you secretly like being the responsible one.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to ruin my reputation?”
“I think you’re ruining it yourself, buzzkill.”
Quentin rolled his eyes but tugged her hand again, this time without resistance. “Let’s get out of here before they decide to start throwing things.”
Behind them, someone yelled, “brING BACK THE MUSIC, YOU COWARD!”
Quentin didn’t even look back. “Nope. We’re leaving.”