FIVE Sebastian #2
We were busy throughout the entire cook-off, a line snaking through the park for either the food or Cooper in his tight white T-shirt, I’m not sure, but we barely have anything left over. I grab one of the last bowls and lift it her way.
“Want to give it a try and share your honest opinion?”
Quincy leans forward. Sniffs the offering and steps back. “Is it safe to eat?”
“We could Romeo and Juliet it if you want. I’ll go first. I’ve always liked being a noble guy.”
That earns me a smile.
It’s faint.
Bordering more on a grimace while she probably plots my demise, but it’s something, and I’ll be damned if I can’t get her to do it again.
“If it’s poisoned, I’m going to haunt you from the afterlife.” She takes the chili, fingers curling around the base of the bowl. “The Grim Reaper and I will make your life miserable.”
“When you do your haunting, can you keep it to daytime hours? I like my sleep.”
“Not sure you’re in a position to barter, Dunn.”
“Tell me what position you want me in,” I toss back, smirking when her cheeks flush even redder.
Point, me.
“Away from me would be preferable.”
“We’ll get there soon.” I drop a spoon in her bowl. “If it makes you feel better, Cooper did the cooking.”
“What a relief.” Quincy brings the spoon to her mouth and swallows. “Dammit. That is phenomenal.”
“Sucks to lose, doesn’t it?”
“I’m glad it tastes good.” She shovels down another bite. Her shoulders sag when she swallows. I’m not sure she’s even stopping to breathe. “And we didn’t lose because of favoritism.”
“I’ll make sure to pass along your congratulations to Coop.”
Awkward silence settles between us.
I’m not used to being around her without having our friends as a buffer.
Our lives all overlap, with Mia and her and everyone else getting along.
Quincy and I have done our best to play nice when we’re in a group, but the time we spend alone is minimal.
I clear my throat, glancing around for something to use as a conversation starter.
“Did you—”
“I saw—”
I laugh when we talk at the same time. “Go ahead.”
“We have our first named storm of the season. Alice. It came out with the five o’clock advisory,” she says.
“Five o’clock? That was hours ago.”
“You’re behind, Dunn.”
Excitement buzzes through me. I drop the package of spoons I’m holding and dig my phone out of my pocket. The notification from the National Weather Service is in the center of my screen, and I almost let out a whoop.
“Wow.” I drum my fingers against the edge of my phone.
I’m a kid on Christmas, running on adrenaline thanks to weather phenomena.
I don’t know the last time I was this amped up for a tropical cyclone.
I don’t know the last time I was this amped up for anything.
“That’s the fourth-earliest-named storm on record.
We might have a season for the books ahead of us. ”
“Active season, remember? We’re supposed to have twenty-three named storms.” Quincy pauses. “Do you know these things off the top of your head?”
“What? Facts about weather? It’s kind of my job. Last I checked, it’s yours too.”
“Are you walking around, waiting for someone to ask when the earliest-forming hurricane was, and you’ll spit out—”
“January 1938. Come on, Monroe. That’s Meteorology 101.”
“Still a show-off I see,” she says.
“You have to admit I do it well,” I answer.
“Debatable.” Quincy looks over her shoulder.
There’s a patch of freckles on the curve of her arm that go halfway to her elbow.
The start of a sunburn on her nose and the scent of what might be vanilla clinging to her skin.
A vague, distant part of me hopes she wears sunscreen when she’s outside, and I blink.
The heat must be getting to me. “I should clean up. Harlow headed to The Hideout, and Mia disappeared. I’m on my own. ”
“Want some help?”
“No,” she answers, exactly how I knew she would. “I’m fine. Thanks, though.”
“Good luck, Pres.”
“Still keeping that nickname a secret?”
Her question makes me puff out my chest. I take my time wiping off the large chef’s knife with a dish towel and putting it in its place in the knife bag. I love to make her squirm.
“You’re a smart girl.” I reach for the next knife. I’m practically grinning from ear to ear. “Maybe you’ll get there one day.”
She mumbles something under her breath that sounds a lot like infuriating and ridiculous. I grin even wider.
“Where are your friends?” she asks. “It’s been less than twelve hours, and they’re already bored with you being back in town?”
“Hardly. Coop is off saving the world. That’s where Mia went, by the way.
To drive him to the station. Nate is probably making a blueberry pie and grumbling about how much he can’t stand people.
Living out their dreams, you know?” I zip the knife bag closed.
“It’s a shame Chad didn’t stick around to offer you a hand. ”
“Chad?” Quincy frowns. “Who is—dammit, Dunn. Are you talking about Charles? The nice man with a stable job who didn’t come back to my table after we had a good conversation? What did you do?”
“Did I mention you might be romantically drawn to weather systems? Possibly. Did I share that you were deeply attracted to tornadoes and tsunamis?” I shrug. “It could’ve slipped out. But Chad is a big boy. What he decided to do was entirely up to him. I guess you two have different interests.”
“Attracted to tornadoes? You are the biggest pain in my ass.” Quincy groans. “Do me a favor. Stay away from me this summer. From my work, my research, and my personal life.”
My mind wanders fleetingly to what kind of personal life she might have. If there are dates, boyfriends. More men who follow her around at town events, begging for an ounce of her attention.
I’m sure there are.
Fucking look at her.
“Yeah?” I put my palms flat on the table to stifle the sour taste on my tongue. My voice hitches lower when I lean into her space. It’s not only vanilla I smell on her. There’s also the scent of orange that’s absolutely fucking maddening. “Or what?”
“It’s going to be so fun to bring your ego down a few notches.” She pulls her spoon back, launching a clump of ground beef and beans at my face. It lands on my right cheek, and she smiles, victorious. “Oops. My finger slipped. I’d hate for that to make you fall off your high horse.”
“Please.” I run my finger across my cheek and bring my hand to my mouth. “I’m saddled up and ready for battle.”
“And I always play to win. Think you can handle it?”
“I can’t wait to watch you give it your best shot.” I keep my gaze locked on hers while I lick away the remnants of the chili, sucking my finger clean. I’m nothing but smug when her eyes widen. “All’s fair in weather and war, Quinny baby.”
She huffs out a breath and I grin, happy to watch her walk away.
THE RAINY DAY SHOW COMMENT SECTION
@SkysTheLimit: glad Alice turned away from the states. I’m not ready for a hurricane!
@TheBlondeBombshellGrl: Quincy, can u talk abt the rain in the Midwest? Haven’t seen the sun in dayz out here in Ohio.
@SharkNados4life: Quincy what’s the deal with this system coming off Africa? Should I cancel my Caribbean cruise next week?
@TheRainyDayShow: Hi, @SharkNados4life! Way, way too early to tell anything about a wave that’s 2+ weeks away.
History shows that storms like the one you’re seeing like to curve N/NE and stay out at sea.
That’s if they’re even able to form. I’ll touch on this tomorrow on the show and share some data!
It’s safe to say you can enjoy your cruise .
@PBJ43813: I STG all this girl does is hype shit up. Why even talk about a storm that’s hundreds of miles away and NO THREAT to the east coast?
@PocketFullOfSunshine89: @PBJ43813 she’s not hyping anything up. Have you heard of Bermuda? People live there too. It’s not like she can say “sorry, you’re shit out of luck! Figure it out!”
@PBJ43813: @PocketFullOfSunshine89 Everyone knows all these storms are being engineered by the government to hit certain communities. Cloud seeding. Look it up.
@PocketFullOfSunshine89: @PBJ43813 maybe put the phone down and walk outside. Hey. Maybe the rain you think the government is creating can cool you off along the way.