Chapter 18 #2
She told herself not to make it into something. Not to spiral. But when she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed, the quiet felt heavier than it had all week.
They’d been in a rhythm. One Quinn had built. And now… this shift, it stung.
At 1:27 a.m. Her phone buzzed, slicing through the dark like a blade. Avery blinked awake, heart thudding as she reached for it.
Incoming Call: Quinn
Avery stared at the screen for a beat too long before answering.
“Hello?” Her voice came out small and groggy.
“Hey,” Quinn said. Her voice was flat. Composed. Not warm. “Sorry. I know it’s late.”
Avery sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her temple. “It’s almost two in the morning.”
“Yeah,” Quinn replied. No apology in it. Just acknowledgment. “I just got back from drinks with Braeden. Work ran late, she texted, and I went. I didn’t really think about the time.”
Avery’s fingers tightened around the phone. “You said you’d call at 9:30.”
“I know,” Quinn said, already sounding impatient. “The day got away from me.”
“And then you went out,” Avery said, trying to keep her voice steady. “And didn’t text.”
“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Quinn replied. Her tone cooled further. “It was just drinks.”
“That’s not the point,” Avery said, sitting up straighter now. “You said you’d call. And then you just… didn’t. You didn’t text. You didn’t say you were running late. You didn’t say you changed plans. Nothing.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end. “I didn’t ask you to wait up,” Quinn said, clipped.
Avery blinked. “I didn’t say you did,” she answered, her voice tightening despite herself. “But you’ve been calling every night. FaceTiming. Texting all day. You made it a thing. And then tonight there was just silence. You can’t see how that feels?”
“I’m calling now,” Quinn said, like that should settle it.
“It’s two in the morning,” Avery shot back, the hurt slipping through now. “That’s not the same.”
Another pause. Longer this time. When Quinn spoke again, her voice had shifted. Harder. Guarded. “I’m not your girlfriend, Avery,” she said. “I don’t owe you a check-in.”
The words hit like a slap. Avery went very still. She could hear the faint hum of background noise on Quinn’s end. The quiet confidence in her voice. No hesitation. No softening.
“You’re right,” Avery said finally, and her voice had gone dangerously calm. “You don’t.”
Silence stretched between them, wide and uncomfortable. Avery swallowed. “I just thought if you said you were going to call, you would. That’s all.”
“I got busy,” Quinn replied. “It happens.”
It happens. Avery knew it happened obviously, and she understood that, but she felt like an afterthought today, and she didn’t like that feeling.
Avery’s hand tightened around the phone. “I’m going to sleep.”
“Avery—”
“Goodnight, Quinn.”
She ended the call. The phone thudded softly onto the nightstand, face-down.
Her chest ached, not sharp enough to be heartbreak, but deep enough to feel foolish. She’d let herself settle into the rhythm Quinn built. Let herself expect it. Let herself feel chosen.
And now she felt… corrected.
Henrietta jumped up onto the bed a few seconds later and curled against her side, warm and familiar.
Avery stared into the dark, teeth clenched, throat tight. She hated this part. The part where someone shifted without warning. Where softness snapped back into distance. Where effort started to feel like misreading the room.
She didn’t cry. She just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying not to let the cold sink any deeper.
* * *
Avery was already in the office when Quinn’s text came in just before 9 a.m., which meant she’d probably sent it before leaving for work.
Quinn: Didn’t mean to be short last night. I was fried. Hope you got some sleep.
Avery stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard as she read it again. It wasn’t a full apology, but it wasn’t nothing either.
From Quinn—the woman who rarely offered explanations and had spent most of their dynamic wrapped in control and restraint—it was significant.
Avery knew better than to expect a sweeping paragraph of emotional reflection.
Quinn didn’t overexplain or unravel her feelings out loud.
When something happened, she adjusted and kept moving.
Still, the wording sat with her longer than she expected.
Didn’t mean to be short. I was fried. It acknowledged the tone but not the sting of it.
It explained the mood but didn’t quite touch the words themselves.
Avery told herself she was overanalyzing.
Quinn had reached out first. Quinn had initiated. That mattered.
She wasn’t going to turn this into something bigger than it needed to be.
Avery: Thanks. Hope today’s a little easier.
She hit send before she could edit it into something softer or sharper.
The rest of the morning moved along as usual. Emails. A quick stand-up with marketing. A call that ran ten minutes over because no one knew how to stay on topic.
Mid-morning, her phone lit up again.
Quinn: Just finished a meeting. Thinking about that last episode we watched Tuesday night. Villanelle is wild.
Avery felt a small smile tug at her mouth despite herself.
Avery: Today’s been good. Got a meeting in ten with marketing.
Also, Villanelle gets a lot more. Can’t wait to watch more with you.
Quinn: Hope the meeting goes well.
And me too. This weekend?
Avery paused briefly before responding, not long enough to mean anything, just long enough to notice she was thinking about it.
Avery: Sounds good :)
Later, Quinn sent a picture of her lunch—an expensive-looking salad that appeared to contain approximately six leaves and a sprinkle of seeds. Avery responded with a photo of her bagel sandwich, unapologetic.
Avery: New York wins.
Quinn: Are you just eating lunch now?
Avery: Yes, it’s been a long Friday. Meetings on meetings.
They slipped back into rhythm. Not constant messaging, but steady.
Familiar. Comfortable in the way it had been earlier in the week.
On the surface, nothing felt off. But every so often, Avery found herself thinking about the night before, about the sharpness in Quinn’s voice and the cool finality of her words.
The apology had been real, she believed that.
It just hadn’t gone all the way to the center of it.
She didn’t bring it up again. She didn’t want to be the one who made it heavier than it already was. Still, something small lingered beneath the ease of their texts, not enough to disrupt the day, but enough that she noticed it.
And she couldn’t quite decide if that unsettled her more than the argument itself.
By late afternoon, Quinn had gone quiet. Avery knew she’d mentioned a packed schedule with end-of-week deadlines, back-to-back meetings, something about quarterly reports. CEO stuff. Grown-up stuff. Stuff Avery honestly didn’t want to fully understand.
Still, the hours ticked by. And the silence, even expected, started to buzz under Avery’s skin. Not panicked. Not sad. Just… noticeable.
By 4:30, Avery was finishing up an email when Gabby popped her head into her office, phone in one hand, coffee in the other.
“Lush tonight,” she said, already grinning. “We are going to go dance, drink and pretend we’re still in our twenties. You in?”
Avery opened her mouth to say no—out of habit, out of whatever-the-hell-she’d-been-doing-all-week, but then she paused.
She thought about how much time she’d spent lately staring at her phone, waiting for it to light up.
How easily she’d fallen into the rhythm of making room in her day and her head for Quinn.
She thought about last night. The silence.
The defensiveness. The way Quinn had said I’m not your girlfriend like it meant don’t expect anything from me.
Even if she’d softened the edges again today. Even if Avery had forgiven her. Even if it had almost gone back to normal.
“I’m in!” Avery said, surprising herself.
Gabby blinked. “Wow. Not gonna stay in and pine after your hot maybe-girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Avery said, standing to grab her coat. “And she’s working late. Again. I haven’t heard from her in like four hours.”
Gabby tilted her head. “You okay?”
“Great,” Avery said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’m going out. I’m reclaiming my hot, no one’s girlfriend, energy.”
Gabby whooped. “Hell yes you are.”
Once Avery got home from work she poured herself a glass of wine and started getting ready. She turned the music up louder than it needed to be as she curled her hair, she reached for her phone one last time.
Avery: Hey, I know you’re busy. Hope the day went okay. I’m heading out with the girls to a club called Lush. If you’re still up when I get back in, I’ll talk to you then. If not, tomorrow.
No emoji. No flirtation. Not cold, just… clear.
She wasn’t mad. She just didn’t want to be the girl waiting by the phone again.
She finished her hair and headed to her closet, telling herself she just wanted to look good. If she was being honest, she wanted to look hot.
Tight black jeans, the ones that hugged her ass and made her legs look longer.
A cropped, ribbed tank with a low back. Hair loosely waved.
Gold hoops. Just enough makeup to make her eyes pop in dim bar lighting, and her favorite lipstick to finish it off.
When she glanced at herself in the mirror, she tilted her head slightly, taking it in.
Even she had to admit she looked really good.
Her phone buzzed with an Instagram notification. She opened the app, uploaded the mirror pic with no caption, and set it live without overthinking it. She knew damn well Quinn would see it. They were following each other now. Friends. Whatever that meant.