Midnight Muse

“Yes, ma’am,” I salute, offering her an apologetic grin as I tuck it away. “I was just asking Rory what Peep had to say about all of this,” I offer, innocently, and Sam looks like he just shit the bed.

Sucks to lose at Basement Basketball.

CHAPTER 26

QUINN

For the third time tonight, I catch myself bobbing my head and mouthing along to the lyrics of the song blaring through the walls instead of reading the words in the Art History textbook that I’m staring at.

Cursing, I toss my pencil into the crease of the book and lay my head in my hands. I’ve read the same page three times over but I haven’t absorbed one ounce of information. It’s something about art in ancient Rome and the different ways God figures are portrayed, I guess.

My phone buzzes from the spot next to me and I can’t help the smile that grows at the sound. I declined an invite to another one of Slate’s infamous parties because I have a test on Monday and I can’t afford to fail. I barely passed the last one by the skin of my teeth, even with Odie’s help. We haven’t had a chance to meet up recently because of his hectic hockey schedule, so I’m on my own for this one. I’ll be damned if I don’t pass this class with anything less than a B.

Knox pestered me about my lack of presence at said party after Slate beat his own record for longest keg stand, but ultimately left me to focus on my schoolwork, or, as much as the half of my attention on the page can manage.

Douchewaffle:

I can’t believe you’re studying right now. I can’t even focus on my drawing. How are you doing it?

You’ve trained me well in the art of studying with loud backgrounds, don’t you remember?

I quickly follow that message with a second.

I should’ve joined in on the fun instead. I’m going to fail Art History anyway. I could really use a shot right now.

His response pings my phone faster than Slate can turn anything sexual.

Douchewaffle:

How about something else that might cheer you up? 😉

A puff of laughter chokes out. Checking the time in the corner of my screen, my smile falls and I want to groan. I’ve only been attempting to study for a little over an hour.

As mood improving as that might be, I really need to study. This sucks.

To garner some extra sympathy, I tack on a frowning emoji at the end.

Douchewaffle:

It’s not that hard, Princess.

It’s a bold move to reply:

Your dick? Or Art History?

But I hit send anyway.

Douchewaffle:

Both, but the pair can be remedied.

Come over.

There’s a sudden slamming of a bedroom door through the wall that startles me for a moment, before a grin overtakes my face. I’m in a fit of giggles, realizing how eager Knox is to escape his apartment and see me.

It kicks up an excited feeling in my stomach, butterflies taking flight in a swarm of giddiness. I’m just as excited as he is, shoving my chair back from my desk and bounding from my room to meet him at the door.

Soft light from the lamp in the corner of the living room washes the apartment in a warmth that feels like I’m cuddled up in the comfiest blanket. The rest of my home is dark and empty. Rory had popped her head into my room earlier, asking if I wanted to go to the party next door with her, but at that point in the night I was still determined to study, waving her on without me.