Midnight Muse

“No,” I bite. “But she did say something about Peep being upset with you because you won’t text her back.”

Just as I suspected, Sam’s eyes go wide, fumbling with the basketball as he rips his phone from his pocket. “What? No way, she can’t be—you little?—”

“Mom,” I call, grinning at the utter terror that fills my brother’s eyes. “Sam’s being a dickhead to me!”

“Quinn,” she snaps back, shouting down the stairs. I wince, and Sam sticks his tongue out at me. I’ve made one grave mistake while shouting for Katie Conroy to save the day: I called my brother a mean name. “Do not call your brother that!”

I groan, letting my head fall back against the couch. Sam snickers, bouncing the ball between his legs like he’s some sort of professional. To me, he just looks like an idiot. I guess it doesn’t matter how old you get or what you study, Basement Basketball is for life.

“He was about to call me something worse,” I try to defend, swatting away the orange ball when it soars my way. It slaps off of my palm with a loud noise that makes both of us flinch. You do not want to be warned by Katie Conroy twice. I’d rather be hit in the head with the basketball again than face my mother’s Thanksgiving wrath.

Luckily, the sound of the back door opening and closing signals my father’s arrival home, and that should be enough to distract her from our misbehaving. My phone buzzes in my hand and I’m very careful about keeping my smile to myself this time around.

Douchewaffle:

Because I’m not above that. I can be very creative, you know.

Stoppppp. You’re going to get me in trouble!

Douchewaffle:

How is that possible? I’m not even there.

I roll my eyes, furiously typing back.

Sam’s wondering why I’m making faces at my phone. He threw a mini basketball at my head, so thanks a lot. I think I might be concussed.

I bite my lip to keep myself from grinning again as I picture Knox’s perfect jade green eyes rolling at my dramatics.

“Quinnie,” Sam whines, dribbling the ball across the carpet. “Play one game with me before mom calls us up to help. If you win, I won’t bring up whoever you’re texting at Thanksgiving dinner. I’m sure grandma would love to know what’s going on in your life.”

I scrunch my nose at him, checking my phone one last time before I give in to his silly demands. I only have a few days left to spend with my family before I’m back on the plane to California, and I’m going to make the most of it, even if my brother can be annoying as hell sometimes.

Douchewaffle:

How about I kiss it better when we get back, Princess?

I’d rather you kiss a little something further south, but I’ll take what I can get.

Douchewaffle:

You can take whatever you want from me and I’ll gladly let you have it, Quinn.

Is that a promise?

Douchewaffle:

Absolutely.

I shove my phone back into my pocket, cheeks and heart warm from Knox’s texts. It’s only been two days since I’ve seen him, but I’m already missing those gorgeous eyes, his rough hands hot against my skin. The apex of my thighs ache at the thought of taking exactly what I want from Knox when I get back, but I shake it from my mind, batting at Sam when he pretends to throw the ball at me again.

“And when I win, I’m going to tell everyone at Thanksgiving about you and Peep.”

Sam’s hazel eyes narrow, and he checks me the ball. “You wouldn’t.”

I grin, and it’s not a nice one. I toss the ball back, a little harder than necessary as my competitive side flares to life. “Try me.”

“So, Quinn, I hear your classes are going well,” grandma Mavis says from her spot next to me, spreading butter on her roll. I wait for her to finish before politely asking for the knife and promptly chopping the head off of the butter-shaped turkey mom always gets for Thanksgiving. I ignore the disapproving noise grandma makes because that was way too satisfying. “What are you taking this year?”