Chapter 21
Quinn
Now
Fuck, that was a good way to start the day.
Quinn didn’t need the reminder of how good it felt to touch Liv, to make her come undone. She didn’t need the reminder, because the taste of her, the feeling of her soft skin, the sounds that she made when their bodies were pressed together, it was indelibly imprinted in her memory.
She didn’t need the reminder, no. But God, was it fucking amazing to experience Liv again.
And, fuck, there had been a moment, in the shower, when Liv got on her knees for Quinn, blinking up at her with half-lidded eyes, as water streamed down her face… Quinn was quite sure she would relive that moment, that look on Liv’s face, many, many times.
She knew that it was a bad idea—such a stupid, incredibly bad idea —but, apparently, Quinn was the kind of person who was going to make the same mistake over and over again, expecting different results.
Such a delicious mistake to make, though, and Liv had even given Quinn her number right before she left. The idea that it was sitting right in her phone, waiting for her to use it, that Liv was hoping that she would reach out…
It was all she wanted to think about.
Quinn tried to set those thoughts aside, though, as she made her way to the conference center of the hotel, attempting to be ready to attend her next meeting.
She sat with a few of the members of the Phoenix team, the assistant, Jessica, waving her over, and they spoke for a minute before the speaker started, confirming the dinner plans for that evening that they’d scheduled earlier in the week.
This breakout, titled Managing Mental Health in Dynamic Workplaces, was one that Quinn wanted to attend more due to an interest in the subject matter than anything else.
The company’s Employee Assistance Program ran the training, teaching an overview of the resources they offered, along with techniques for creating a culture that supports mental health and tips for recognizing the signs of burnout.
If anything, the session was a good opportunity to stretch her psych muscles, and she thought there were interesting ideas for content that they may want to consider weaving into some of their management training materials.
Quinn took a few moments to talk with the vendor, explaining who she was: not an employee, so not a part of their program, but someone interested in the topics as they related to her own management consulting business.
The speaker was kind, pointing her in the direction of a few resources that Prism might find beneficial, and they exchanged contact information.
It wasn’t exactly the type of networking that she and Mel had discussed in the lead up to the conference.
They’d more aligned on goals around specific, immediate business impact type of contacts, targeting connections that may hire them sooner rather than later for their consulting services, but Quinn could still see how even this part of the week could positively affect her company.
From a business perspective, at least, coming to the conference had been the right choice.
“Hey, how was that breakout?” Mel asked, approaching her as soon as she walked into the hallway.
She spoke carefully, and that, coupled with the contrition on her face, was appreciated, if not entirely necessary.
Mel’s hair was pulled up, highlighting the undercut, wearing silver framed glasses that Quinn had only seen her in a handful of times in their entire friendship, and she was completely sans makeup, though she was still androgynously beautiful in an outfit that included tuxedo pants and suspenders.
“Good, no real new leads, though,” Quinn answered. “We’re good for dinner with Phoenix tonight, though.”
“Good, good,” Mel said, not meeting her eye. “Can we go offsite for lunch?”
Quinn pulled up the agenda on her phone. “Yeah, I think so? They announced the meet-and-greet with Rhea for this afternoon. I’d like to swing through if we get the chance, but we don’t technically need to be back until 3:00 PM for the tech check before our workshop tomorrow.”
Mel nodded in response, and they walked together down the hallway, through the lobby, and out the hotel doors into the chilly Chicago air.
Mel took the lead as they made their way quietly down the street, walking several blocks before she stopped in front of a small café on the corner. “Is this okay?”
“Sure,” Quinn answered, following Mel inside, where she was engulfed in the smell of grease and steaming pancakes. They were escorted to a booth near the window, and as they took their seats, Quinn asked, “How did you find this place?”
“I mean, the internet exists, Q,” Mel said. “I searched for brunch options within walking distance of the hotel.”
Quinn just nodded, because…really? This was the conversation they were having?
She could tell that Mel was trying to work her way up to something, but there hadn’t been many moments in their friendship that they’d struggled to communicate.
Sure, they butted heads at work sometimes.
Building a business was difficult, and, like all startups, they’d gone through highs and lows getting on their feet, but they’d always tried to work through disagreements together.
Quinn believed Prism was stronger because of it.
But outside of work, at least before this week, their friendship hadn’t been tested. They’d bonded pretty instantly upon meeting, as the two visibly queer people in their grad school cohort, and, excepting the day or two after their almost hookup, there had never been any awkwardness between them.
But this was uncomfortable .
They each ordered coffee and food, a breakfast sandwich for Quinn and a stack of pancakes for Mel, and then they just sat there, averting their eyes, Mel playing with her napkin, tearing into strips.
“This is painful,” Mel said. Quinn nodded again. “We should talk about last night.”
Quinn waited, hoping that Mel would start, but when her friend went quiet again, she huffed. “Not sure what you want me to say here, bud.”
“Ugh, I know, I know,” Mel replied. She closed her eyes tightly before shaking her head, as if trying to force the words out. “I’m sorry. I should have told you that I had invited them. It was not cool to spring that on you.”
Quinn raised her eyebrows. “Another option would have been to not invite them in the first place.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Mel replied. “But I don’t think I’m sorry about that, honestly.”
Quinn sputtered, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“I think you came here for a reason, Quinn,” Mel said softly. “I know it was a good opportunity for Prism, and we’re, what, halfway through the week and I already think it was worth it.”
“I agree,” Quinn said simply.
“But we didn’t need to come here,” Mel continued.
“We have a solid book of business through the end of this year. We can certainly accommodate more, and I’m excited to see where things go with all the contacts we’ve been making here, but it’s not like we were in danger of shutting down if we didn’t do something drastic. ”
She wasn’t wrong. Prism had been doing well. They’d even talked briefly about hiring someone to help with the administrative side of things, maybe someone who could grow into a consultant or trainer as they kept expanding the business.
“You were, like, circling each other,” Mel said. “I know I don’t understand the history between you two, but the Rhea Stewart thing just… I’m not trying to make excuses. But y’all have some things you need to work out, and I think that you want to, on some level. Like… Isn’t that why we’re here?”
Again, Mel wasn’t wrong; of course she wasn’t. “I will admit that I was hoping to see her.”
“I know it doesn’t excuse the sneak attack I pulled last night,” Mel said. “But, since you pulled a giant sneak attack on me with this whole thing, can we call it even?”
Quinn rolled her eyes, although, big picture, she figured she might be getting off easy. As their waitress set their food down, Quinn said, “I suppose that sounds fair.”
Mel deflated, letting out a deep breath, relaxing for the first time that Quinn had seen that day. “Thank you. I really am sorry. My intention was not to hurt you.”
“I know,” Quinn replied.
“And I can talk to her about giving you space,” Mel offered. “If that’s what you want.”
“I don’t think that's necessary,” Quinn said, clearing her throat. When Mel just looked confused, she added, “We talked, actually.”
Her friend, who’d maintained a stoic demeanor up until this part of their meal, smirked. “When?”
“She showed up at my hotel room this morning,” Quinn answered with a slight shrug.
“Tell me more, tell me more,” Mel replied, the friendly, taunting tone returning to her voice. She cradled her own cheeks between her hands and fluttered her eyelashes. “Are y’all going to go steady again?”
Quinn scoffed at the ridiculous question. “We are not now, nor were we ever, ‘going steady.’ ”
“You know what I mean, dude,” Mel responded, dropping her hands. “What happened?”
Quinn quirked an eyebrow, and Mel, understanding her less than subtle nonverbal communication, slapped her shoulder, offering out her hand for a high five. “Don’t be gross.”
“I’m just, like, weirdly proud of you,” Mel said.
“You’re proud of me,” Quinn replied, snorting.
“I am,” Mel insisted. “It’s been ages since you got laid.”
“Are you keeping track?” Quinn responded.
“Oh, of course, you’re basically the star of my diary,” Mel answered, her faux sweetness going wicked around the edges. “And you have this whole…broody, confronting-your-past-demons thing going this week. So, yeah. I’m proud of you.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. On one level, she got what Mel was saying.
It hadn’t been that long, she thought, since she’d hooked up with someone, maybe…
four months, if her memory was correct, when she’d gone on a date with a woman who she’d met on an app.
They’d talked for a few weeks, with decent banter through the messaging feature in the app, so she’d scheduled the meetup.
It had been…fine? Dinner was fine, the conversation was fine.
Quinn’s date was beautiful, there was no denying that, and she’d dressed to kill in a bright red dress that clung in all the right places.
When she’d asked if Quinn wanted to come home with her, Quinn hadn’t thought twice.
They’d hooked up, and that, too, had been fine.
Quinn hadn’t stayed the night, and neither had reached out after that, the lacking chemistry clearly apparent to both.
Quinn could see, though, how four months must sound like a lifetime to someone like Mel, who regularly had multiple sexual encounters within a week.
“Did you two talk about what happens next?” Mel asked around a mouth full of pancakes.
“A little? I mean…we’re just going to get through these next few days. And if more opportunities arise to…” Quinn stop ped at this, allowing her friend to fill in the blank for herself. “Then we’ll let it happen, and at the end of the week, that’ll be that.”
“Hmm.” Mel was thoughtful for just a moment before slyly adding, “So maybe some things are fixable by fucking?”
Quinn dragged her hands over her face. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” Mel corrected. Quinn rolled her eyes, but again. Her friend wasn’t wrong. “So…was it good?”
“I’m not answering that,” Quinn replied.
“I tell you about all of my hookups,” Mel responded, a sense of outrage filling her tone.
Quinn held up her hands. “I never asked you to!”
“Here I was, thinking that I provided you with endless entertainment, and you don’t even appreciate it.”
“Of course I do, you’re the star of my diary,” Quinn replied, trying to sound droll. She broke when her friend laughed, amused at her own words being thrown back at her.
“Can we talk about Rhea Stewart?” Mel asked. “You literally partied with her last night!”
“I mean, you did. I more had an existential crisis in her general vicinity,” Quinn said.
“This is true, but still .”
“I know. I need to call Emma. And my mom, geez, she’s going to love that story,” Quinn replied. “I don’t know how to tell her without bringing up Liv, though, and I’m not sure I want to go there.”
“Is your mom not a fan?” Mel asked.
Quinn could tell she was trying to piece together the puzzle, and she didn’t want to give her anything, but she softened at the question. “Quite the opposite.”
Mel’s shocked expression was over-the-top, but when she spoke, all she said was, “I’m so confused.”
Quinn groaned, slumping in her seat. “Yeah, buddy. Join the club.”