Chapter 36 Quentin
THIRTY-SIX
QUENTIN
Quentin was practically vibrating in his seat, his left leg bouncing like it was trying to launch him through the roof of the truck.
“Do I need to tranquilize you?” Sadie asked, barely glancing over. Her sunglasses had slipped just enough for him to see the arch of one unimpressed brow.
“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes wide. “I’m just—do you feel that? That’s history being made. That’s joy. That’s serotonin. That’s me not crashing this truck out of sheer emotional overload.”
“You’re gonna vibrate us into a ditch, Mr. Twitchy Leg.”
He slapped a hand to his chest. “And what a beautiful ditch it would be. Because you, Sadie Cara Murphy, just said yes. To me.”
“Don’t say my full legal name like you’re proposing.”
“I might! I might propose every day for the rest of my natural life. Because this—you—this is the big leagues. This is the real franchise deal.”
She groaned. “Bigger than getting cast in that billion-dollar superhero thing?”
“Oh, way bigger. Not-even-close bigger. I once screamed ‘Tell my dog I love her!’ while fake-falling into a lava pit and I still didn’t feel this alive.”
She bit back a smile, teeth catching her bottom lip.
“You said yes,” he continued softly. “To more. Not just to dinner. Not just to one night where I pretend I’m mysterious and emotionally unavailable. You said yes to us.”
“I said yes to seeing where it goes and not actively murdering each other, Quentin.”
“Same thing,” he whispered.
She didn’t make him pull over. Instead, she cranked the music like she was trying to drown out the stupidly giddy smile blooming on her face. Quentin grinned so wide his cheeks were cramping.
Quentin Ramos – who once dodged second dates like it was jury duty and treated relationships like emotional drive-thrus –was now officially smitten. And he was weirdly thrilled about it.
Was she his girlfriend now? Too soon? Did she even believe in that word, or was she one of those labels-are-for-jars people? It didn’t matter. Either way, he wanted to scream it from a mountaintop.
Be cool, he told himself. Be the guy who doesn’t need labels. Even though, internally, he was already monogramming towels with their initials.
By the time they rolled back onto set, his leg had stopped bouncing, but his brain was pure fizzy chaos.
The set was the usual zoo, PA’s sprinting like their lives depended on it, someone yelling about a broken light, someone else yelling about the yelling.
But to Quentin, the entire world felt slightly off-kilter.
Because he was arriving with Sadie. Not beside her. With her. Like a duo. Like a… team. Like a—
She flung the door open before the truck had fully stopped, snatched her bag, and bolted like the truck was rigged to explode. Then she power-walked into the crowd like she didn’t even know him.
“Cool. No big deal. Probably just didn’t want to cause a scene.”
Then she vanished completely behind a trailer.
“Oof,” he muttered, watching her disappear like a CIA agent. “Okay. So… not my girlfriend. Not yet. But we’re building. Laying a foundation. Love is a marathon. Not a sprint.”
He hadn’t taken more than two steps before a production assistant swooped in, wielding a clipboard like a weapon.
“There you are!” she snapped. “The director wants a regroup. Now. Where the hell have you been all weekend?”
“Off the grid. Soul-searching and fasting in the woods. Actor stuff,” Quentin mumbled, already backing away.
The assistant narrowed her eyes. “That better not be code for shrooms.”
“It’s code for method acting,” he said, and speed-walked to his cabin like his life depended on it.
Once inside, he slammed the door behind him, leaned against it, and let out a long, giddy laugh. Naturally, the universe chose this exact moment to punish him with a sharp knock.
“Quentin!” chirped Avery’s unmistakable voice, cheerful and deadly.
He closed his eyes and thumped his head gently against the door. “Nope. Not today.”
Another knock. “I know you’re in there.”
He dragged a hand through his hair and opened the door to find her standing there like a caffeinated storm cloud with a clipboard.
“Hey, Avery. You look… wildly caffeinated.”
“I texted you. I called you. I sent you a calendar invite labeled ‘Where the hell is Quentin’?”
“I was unplugged,” he said, collapsing onto the couch. “No service in the sticks.”
Avery stared. “Why do you look giddy?”
“I’m not giddy,” he said, grinning. “I’m just… glowing with the possibility of emotional commitment.”
She squinted. “Oh no. You’re in love.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
“No.” Possibly. God, probably.
Love seemed like a lot. Messy and terrifying and way too big to fit into the careful compartments he’d built for his life. But he liked her. A lot.
He had never felt like this before. Not the electric jolt of her smile or the way her voice could drag him back from whatever spiral he was in. Not the quiet comfort of just being near her. He didn’t want to run. He didn’t want to hide. He wanted in, consequences be damned.
Avery’s eye-roll was so dramatic it practically echoed. “Fantastic. Well, enjoy your feelings. You’ve got ten minutes before the director has a full-blown meltdown and starts threatening to replace you with a mop in a wig.”
He waved a hand in the air without looking up. “Tell him I’m communing with my heart.”
“You’re communing with unemployment if you don’t move your ass.”
She slammed the door on her way out.
Quentin just laughed. God help him, he was so gone for this woman.
It had been a grueling day on set, so when they finally wrapped, the crew scattered like they’d just escaped a hostage situation.
Quentin spotted Sadie heading toward her cabin and immediately fell into step beside her. His hands were stuffed in his pockets—partly to look casual, mostly to keep himself from doing something wildly uncool, like grabbing her hand and skipping into the night.
The cool air wrapped around them. The moment was quiet. His brain, however, was not.
Grab her hand. Pull her close. Kiss her temple. Throw her over your shoulder like a caveman and declare her yours in a language composed entirely of grunts.
Instead, he walked beside her like a normal, well-adjusted human being.
“How was your day?” he asked, voice soft and easy, even though something in his chest felt anything but.
Sadie let out a tired laugh, rolling her shoulders like she was trying to physically eject the day from her body. “Traumatic.The director was in rare form, full drill sergeant mode. I think he barked more than he spoke.”
Quentin chuckled. “Right? He paced like a caged tiger all day. I swear, at one point, he looked five seconds away from disappearing into the woods and never coming back.”
Sadie snorted. “If he does, I’m not stopping him. I’ll even pack him a snack.”
“He gave me just one note for the entire scene,” Quentin said. “‘Dubiety.’ That was it.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Oh, no clue. But he just stared at me like if he held eye contact long enough, I’d absorb the meaning through osmosis.”
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “That man is strange. He doesn’t blink. I swear, he’s like a shark.”
Quentin smirked. “You know psychopaths blink less.”
“Are you implying something?”
“I’m just saying, if someone goes mysteriously missing from set, I know who my prime suspect is.”
She shook her head, but she was smiling now.
They walked in companionable silence for a few seconds.
Quentin stole a glance at her, hair pulled back, eyes still sharp even after the day they’d had.
She moved through chaos like it couldn’t touch her, like she was built for it.
It was maddening. It was magic. And it only made him want to touch her more, constantly, all day.
He couldn’t do that, so instead he buried himself in work, stayed in his lane, and played it cool. Marginal success. Moderate failure.
“You were amazing today, by the way,” she said, glancing over at him. “I noticed.”
“Oh, you were looking at me, were you?” he said with a grin.
She laughed, and he felt it like sunlight on skin.
“Yes, and I was counting how many times Tessa rolled her eyes,” Sadie said. “But you were a machine. Didn't even flinch when Otto started screaming about the—what was it? The ‘spiritually compromised fog machine’?”
“Fifteen,” Quentin said. “I was counting too. Part boredom, part survival. Also gave me something to focus on besides praying for the sweet mercy of a power outage to shut down production.”
Sadie snorted. “We shouldn’t gossip.” A beat. Then she leaned in, eyes sparkling. “But...”
Quentin perked up like a retriever who’d just heard the word treat. “But what?”
He lived for this. As someone whose life was already reality TV for strangers with internet access, he treasured the rare thrill of being on the audience side of the gossip.
Sadie lowered her voice. “I think Avery’s seeing someone.”
“No,” Quentin gasped.
“Yes.” Sadie nodded. “She snuck off set at lunch. Came back with tousled hair, lipstick all smudged and Avery never smudges. She treats her makeup like a blood pact.”
Quentin let out a whistle. “Scandal! Who’s the mystery lover?”
“My first guess? That assistant director. Jake. You know, with the painted-on shirts and the man bun clinging to life?”
“Oh God, him?” Quentin groaned. “He always looks like he’s five minutes away from starting a podcast called ‘Vibes & Vision Boards.’”
Sadie cackled. “He’s got the energy of a guy who brings his guitar to bonfires uninvited.”
“No way Avery’s into that,” Quentin said, shaking his head. “She has taste. Hidden, terrifyingly high-maintenance taste.”
“I bet it’s the stunt coordinator. Dude’s built like a Greek god and does backflips when he’s bored.”
Sadie gasped. “Oh my God. If Avery is secretly dating a stunt guy, I will die. Like actual spontaneous combustion.”