Chapter 21 #2
Quinn shifted slightly, her head resting on the cushion, her gaze drifting toward Avery like she was checking in without saying it. Avery’s thumb rubbed gently against Quinn’s. She wasn’t pulling away. If anything, she was grounding herself.
“You okay?” Quinn asked softly, her voice low and even.
Avery nodded after a beat. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
Quinn didn’t press. The glow from the rising sun cast a faint golden halo around them.
Quinn’s hair was tousled, her blazer discarded on the armrest behind her from the night before.
She looked tired. Beautiful. Lost in her own head.
Avery caught herself watching the soft pull of Quinn’s mouth, the way her eyes didn’t look sharp right now—just quiet.
Avery turned toward her, biting her lip. Her heart thudded once, hard and annoying, before she cleared her throat.
“Hey… did you get a hotel?” Avery asked.
Avery could tell the question caught Quinn; her brows lifted in surprise.
“No,” Quinn said slowly. “I figured I’d wait to see what you wanted me to do.”
Avery blinked. She hadn’t expected honesty like that, and it hit deeper than she wanted to admit. She hadn’t expected Quinn to wait. To not assume. Quinn was decisive by nature. Assertive. The kind of woman who didn’t usually leave room for anyone else to steer.
But here she was, leaving room. Letting Avery decide. After the conversation they’d just had, that mattered more than Avery expected. “Good,” Avery said, her voice quieter now. She leaned in just slightly, her knee brushing Quinn’s. “Don’t get one.”
A beat passed. Then another. Quinn’s mouth curved into something tender. A smile that started in her eyes and stayed there. Avery felt it in her ribs, like her body recognized the softness before her brain did.
“Stay with me this week?” Avery asked softly, the question landing between them like an offering.
Quinn nodded without hesitation. “I’d love to.”
Avery didn’t respond with words. She leaned in and kissed her again, holding the moment instead of chasing it. The kiss settled between them, quiet and full, like something that didn’t need explaining.
Quinn’s hand slid to the back of Avery’s neck, fingers threading through her loose waves. Avery’s hand rested on Quinn’s thigh, thumb moving slowly as their mouths found a shared rhythm—soft pressure, subtle tilt, lips parting and meeting again.
It deepened naturally, like gravity pulling them closer. The kind of kiss that made everything else disappear. Avery felt her own shoulders loosen, her breath slowing, like her body was finally believing what her mind kept resisting.
When they finally pulled apart, Quinn’s eyes lingered on Avery’s face, her hand still warm against her skin. “You sure?”
Avery nodded, thumb sliding over Quinn’s wrist. “Yeah. I want you here.”
Quinn exhaled, long and quiet, like she’d been holding something back and was finally letting it go. “Then I’m here.”
They didn’t talk much after that. They didn’t need to.
Avery curled up against her, and Quinn let her body shift to accommodate her without breaking the contact. They just stayed like that, the weight of the week giving way to the quiet certainty of now. Of this. Of them.
They didn’t rush. No plans. No alarms. No need to change out of the oversized T-shirts they’d slept in. The world could wait.
* * *
Avery was curled on the couch, cross-legged and cozy, bare legs beneath Quinn’s dark gray hoodie, oversized on her, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs. The sleeves were bunched awkwardly at her elbows, one slipping down every time she shifted to balance a paper plate on her knee.
She was mid-bite into a bagel, the scent of toasted everything and garlic cream cheese mingling with the faint citrus of Quinn’s hoodie.
It smelled like Quinn now, like her body, her detergent, her something—Avery didn’t want to overthink it, didn’t want to admit how fast her brain tried to claim it as comfort.
The TV was on Killing Eve playing softly in the background.
Avery chewed thoughtfully, eyes flicking to the screen just long enough to catch a flash of Villanelle’s grin.
“Villanelle is so hot,” she said around a mouthful, like it wasn’t up for debate.
Quinn snorted. “Yeah?”
Avery nodded and licked a smear of cream cheese from her thumb with slow precision. “Oh, definitely.” Then she looked at Quinn, gaze warming, mouth curving into something wicked. “But you’re way hotter.”
Quinn’s brow lifted. “Obviously.”
Avery laughed and leaned in, just enough to blur the distance between them. Quinn shifted to meet her, knees brushing. She reached out, swiped her thumb across the corner of Avery’s mouth.
“You’re messy,” Quinn murmured.
“You like it,” Avery shot back.
Quinn’s thumb lingered before she leaned in and kissed her. Soft. Sweet. Unhurried. Like the world had narrowed to just this moment. The kind of kiss that made Avery close her eyes and breathe it in—citrus, bread, warmth.
Quinn’s hand slid behind her neck, fingers curling into the soft hairs there, her other palm warm and steady on Avery’s thigh. Avery felt held without being trapped, wanted without being rushed. It was disorienting, in the best way.
When they finally parted, Quinn didn’t pull far. “I missed you,” she whispered.
Avery’s chest squeezed. Quinn rarely said things like that first. And this, in such a quiet moment, hit deep.
She laced their fingers. “I missed you, too.”
Later, after long naps and tangled limbs, they finally changed into real clothes.
Avery stepped out first, smoothing her floral dress.
It hit mid-thigh, with thin straps and a playful hemline that swayed when she moved.
Her lipstick matched one of the flowers, deep berry.
She didn’t dress like this for work. She dressed like this because she wanted Quinn to look at her like she was a problem.
Quinn turned from the couch, caught mid-breath.
Avery spun. “Too much?”
“You’re going to ruin me,” Quinn said.
“Good.” Avery smiled.
Quinn stood, adjusted the collar of her black button-down. Sleeves rolled, top two buttons undone. Paired with crisp jeans, it was hot in a way that felt like it was just for her. Avery’s throat went dry, and she hated that she was this easy.
“God,” Avery muttered. “You can’t go out looking like that.”
“Why not?” Quinn’s brow furrowed slightly, but a small smirk danced on her lips.
Avery’s voice dropped as she walked toward her. “Because I might drag you into the bathroom halfway through dinner.”
Quinn’s smirk widened. “Promise?”
Avery’s stomach flipped. She hated how much she loved it—how Quinn could say one word and it felt like a private dare.
They walked hand in hand to a little bistro tucked by the park. The warm evening air hummed with summer’s last stretch, the sky melting from cotton-candy pink into lavender. Fairy lights blinked overhead on the patio, ivy climbing wooden trellises. The scent of herbs drifted from the kitchen.
Avery looked around. “This feels like a movie.”
Quinn glanced at the lights, then her. “Kind of does.”
They ordered small plates: flatbread with roasted garlic, whipped ricotta, and hot honey. Quinn chose a bottle of wine after inspecting the list with mild disdain.
“This one should be passable,” Quinn said, tapping the menu lightly with her finger.
“You sound like a snob,” Avery said, arching a brow at her.
“I am,” Quinn replied smoothly. “But I’m charming.”
The wine was good. The food even better. Honey lingered on their fingers as they shared the pasta Quinn had insisted on—black truffle, mushrooms, parmesan.
Avery moaned after one bite. Loudly. Quinn froze mid-reach for her glass.
Avery grinned at her. “What?” she asked innocently.
“You can’t make that sound in public,” Quinn said under her breath, eyes narrowing slightly.
Avery leaned in across the table, lowering her voice. “I’ll make it again later,” she murmured. “Fewer clothes. More reason.”
Quinn lifted her glass slowly. “I look forward to it,” she said before taking a sip.
They laughed through dessert—espresso and chocolate torte—and Avery nearly choked when Quinn casually admitted she’d been kicked out of Catholic school at thirteen for hacking the firewall and forging report cards.
“You’re a menace,” Avery said breathlessly, pressing a napkin to her mouth.
“I’m a visionary,” Quinn corrected, lifting her chin slightly.
“A chaos muppet disguised as an ice queen,” Avery added, shaking her head.
Quinn smiled slowly at her. “Say that again and see what happens when we get home,” she warned.
“Punishment?” Avery asked, tilting her head.
“I’d call it motivation,” Quinn replied, her tone deliberate.
They walked home hand in hand. Quinn stopped beneath a streetlamp and kissed her like there was nowhere else to be. Avery felt her whole body soften into it, the city blurring, the night air cool against her cheeks.
“This was perfect,” Avery whispered against Quinn’s mouth.
Quinn smiled and brushed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re perfect,” she said quietly.
Avery’s throat tightened. She swallowed it down and pretended it didn’t hit like a bruise and a blessing at the same time.
They walked the rest of the way like that, fingers woven together, the night closing gently around them.
* * *