Chapter 13 #2
Quinn hesitated, then asked, “Are we… parting ways after that?”
Avery blinked up at her, still half-asleep. “Do you have somewhere to be?” she asked.
“Not really,” Quinn replied. “Do you?”
Avery smiled faintly. “Technically, I should be at the office,” she admitted, tracing a lazy circle on Quinn’s stomach with her fingertip. “But I was thinking about taking the day off. Spending it with you, if you’d want that.”
Quinn’s expression softened. “I’d like that very much,” she said.
Avery hummed, pleased. “Good,” she replied. “Then it’s settled. Today’s ours.”
Quinn brushed a hand through Avery’s hair. “Then I guess breakfast is mandatory,” she said lightly.
“Mm,” Avery murmured against her. “And coffee. Lots of coffee.”
“Deal,” Quinn said with a small smile.
Avery shifted closer in the sheets. “So where were we before you went all productive on me?” she asked playfully.
Quinn laughed quietly. “I think you were trying to convince me to stay in bed,” she said.
“Sounds right,” Avery replied, grinning against Quinn’s chest. After a few minutes of lingering there, Avery leaned in and kissed her. “As much as I don’t want to leave this bed,” she added, pulling back slightly, “I’d like a clean pair of clothes. And I need to feed Henrietta.”
Quinn blinked at her. “Who’s Henrietta?” she asked.
“My cat,” Avery said, as if it were obvious. “She’s dramatic and spoiled and kind of a menace, but she’s mine.”
Quinn laughed softly. “Sounds like she gets it from you, honestly,” she said.
Avery raised an eyebrow. “Was that shade?” she asked.
Quinn smirked faintly. “Just a compliment disguised as an observation,” she replied.
Avery rolled her eyes, smiling, and rested her head back on Quinn’s shoulder.
“Well,” Quinn offered after a moment, “if you prefer to go home and get ready, we can swing by there before breakfast. That way you’re not wearing yesterday’s clothes.”
Avery thought for a second, then nodded. “Shower here,” she said, “I’ll throw on something soft of yours, then we’ll head to my place?”
“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, brushing her knuckles down Avery’s side. “And then breakfast. And after that… whatever you want. Whatever the day holds.”
Avery looked up at her. “We’ll go back to mine, I’ll feed the queen,” she said with a grin, “and tonight I can cook you dinner.”
Quinn tilted her head slightly. “You cook?” she asked.
“I mean, not well, but I try,” Avery teased. “And it’s the effort that counts.”
Quinn smiled at her. “That sounds really nice,” she said.
Avery stretched and pulled the sheets back. Quinn’s throat went a little dry as she watched her. Avery was still completely bare, unabashed and glowing even in the dim light. She stood slowly, then glanced over her shoulder with a grin that made Quinn’s pulse spike.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Avery said playfully. “You’ve seen it all before.”
“I know,” Quinn replied, sitting up against the headboard. “Doesn’t mean I can’t admire it.”
Avery smirked at her. “Just try to keep your hands to yourself until we actually make it to the shower,” she said.
“No promises,” Quinn answered, already swinging her legs out of bed to follow her.
* * *
An hour later, clean and caffeinated, they were walking up the steps to Avery’s building. Avery bumped her shoulder lightly into Quinn’s as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.
A stack of books beside the couch. A plant hanging just slightly lopsided. A framed photo booth strip tacked to the fridge with a magnet that read: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do—but if you do, name it after me.
Quinn took it all in quietly from the kitchen doorway as Avery knelt beside a small ceramic bowl with pink fish bones painted around the rim. She was crouched over Henrietta, who was meowing pointedly as if Avery was late to her shift.
“She has an auto-feeder, you know,” Avery said as she peeled back the foil lid of the wet food can, “but if she doesn’t get her ‘treat’ and yes, that’s the word she responds to, she will literally knock things off shelves in protest.”
“I admire her sense of structure,” Quinn said dryly, arms folded across her chest as she leaned against the wall. “Very CEO of her.”
Avery laughed, and when she bent forward to scoop the food into the bowl, the hem of Quinn’s T-shirt rose just enough to reveal the curve of her thigh and the edge of tiny sleep shorts beneath. Quinn’s eyes dropped without meaning to. Her breath hitched. The muscles in her stomach clenched.
She made a sound before she could stop it. It was small, barely more than a breath. But Avery turned, one brow raised and a knowing smirk on her lips.
“Did you just moan?” she asked, clearly delighted.
“No,” Quinn said flatly. Then, because she couldn’t help herself: “It was a throat thing.”
Avery stood slowly, wiping her hands on a dish towel, the corners of her mouth lifting. “Sure it was.”
Quinn didn’t move from where she stood, jaw tense. But Her eyes betrayed her. They lingered on Avery’s bare legs, on the shirt that hung loose around her hips, on the stretch of skin now exposed where it had ridden up slightly.
“You look… comfortable,” Quinn said, her voice lower now.
Avery stepped closer, eyes dancing. “I look good in your clothes. You can say it.”
Quinn met her gaze. “You look very good in my clothes.”
The softness in her voice surprised even her. It wasn’t the polished tone she used in meetings or interviews. It wasn’t even the careful control she’d used when they first met. It was warmer. Less guarded, and Avery noticed.
Something shifted in her expression, subtle but unmistakable. That slow softening. That unraveling Quinn didn’t show to anyone else.
“Do you want your shirt back?” Avery asked, almost teasing, tugging at the hem.
Quinn’s eyes dropped again, then rose slowly to meet hers. “No,” she said quietly. “I like it better on you.”
Avery’s smile turned a little shy, her cheeks pinking in a way that only made her more radiant. She stepped close enough for Quinn to reach out—so she did. One hand on Avery’s hip, the other gently pushing the hem of the shirt back down like it might give her some restraint at all.
“We still getting breakfast?” Avery asked, her voice light, but her body pressed too close to ignore.
Quinn cleared her throat again, this time for real. “Yes. Before I say fuck breakfast and pull you back into bed.”
Avery grinned. “Well, you promised me pancakes. Don’t lie to me.”
Avery laughed, shaking her head. “You want to see my room?” she asked, voice dipping just slightly, enough to turn the question into something flirtier, heavier.
Quinn’s gaze sharpened. “I do.”
Avery turned and walked down the short hallway toward her bedroom, hips swaying just enough to make sure Quinn noticed. She did.
Inside, the space was cozy and chaotic in a way that felt deeply personal. A messy stack of paperbacks on the nightstand. A candle that had burned low. An old concert poster tacked above the bed. Quinn stood in the doorway for a beat, taking it in.
“This is very you,” she said.
“Thanks,” Avery replied, already crossing to the closet. “It’s a little messy, but I like it that way.”
She pulled open a drawer and started rummaging for clothes, glancing over her shoulder. “You can sit, you know. I don’t bite.”
Quinn stepped into the room slowly, eyes trailing over the bed before settling on Avery again.
“Liar,” she murmured.
Avery smirked but didn’t look back. “Okay, maybe a little.”
She grabbed a pair of jeans and a soft sage green sweater and peeled Quinn’s T-shirt off in one fluid motion. The sight of her bare back—smooth, soft, freckled just so, made something sharp twist in Quinn’s chest. Want, yes. But also something quieter. Something she didn’t usually let herself name.
Avery turned slightly, about to reach for her bra, when she noticed Quinn watching her. Really watching her.
“You okay?” she asked, amused. “You look like you’re trying to memorize this moment.”
“I am,” Quinn said, voice low and unapologetic. “Don’t put that on yet.”
Avery paused smiling. “No?”
Quinn crossed the space between them, her fingers brushing lightly along the dip of Avery’s waist, then higher, just the ghost of a touch up her spine. “You’re beautiful,” she said softly.
Avery turned, her bare chest now pressed lightly against Quinn’s shirt. She slid her hands up Quinn’s sides, over the curve of her ribs, her voice suddenly quieter. “You don’t say stuff like that.”
“I don’t feel like this with anyone else,” Quinn said, leaning in to kiss her.
Avery pressed closer, her hands fisting in Quinn’s shirt as their mouths moved in sync, greedy and tender all at once.
Quinn’s hand slid to the back of Avery’s thigh, fingers curling just under the hem of those tiny shorts.
“Fuck,” she breathed into Avery’s mouth. “You’re gonna make me forget all about breakfast.”
Avery grinned against her lips. “Who says we have to choose?”
Quinn kissed her again, filthy, addictive. Then forced herself to pull back, panting softly. “Get dressed, or I’m not being held responsible for what happens next.”
Avery stepped back with a smug smile, grabbing her sweater and tugging it over her head. “You started it.”
Quinn sat on the edge of the bed, watching her finish getting ready, eyes hooded and full of heat. “Yeah,” she said, voice low. “And I’m going to finish it. Later.”
* * *
Quinn watched Avery move around her kitchen like she belonged.
Which, obviously, she did. But Quinn still felt like she was seeing something private.
Avery barefoot on cool hardwood, hair pulled up messily with a clip that had definitely been rescued from the bottom of a drawer, another of Quinn’s T-shirts slipped off one shoulder as she moved between the counter and the stove.
They had meant to go out. That had been the plan in the shower, all talk of coffee and some little café nearby. But somewhere between drying off and finding clean clothes, Avery had changed her mind.