3. Quinn

CHAPTER 3

Quinn wasn't trying to rack up poor choices like basketball players racked up points, but if his recent history pointed to anything, it pointed to going up to Duluth to see a stranger he had a crush on.

Weston wasn't really a stranger, but he wasn't the safest choice for a small road trip. But if Weston turned out to be weird or awful, Quinn could just drive home. Or back to his parents' condo, at least.

In the days that passed between Weston's invite and the Thursday Quinn was going to head north, he spent every day watching Weston's stream, as usual. And now in addition to the flirting they did in chat, he also had a pocket full of DMs from Weston throughout the day, as well as one-on-one video chats. When it was just the two of them, Weston peeled back the performance he put on for viewers and was a little more relaxed and quiet. It gave his smile a softness that felt like a special gift just to Quinn.

On Thursday, Quinn got a late start. He had been sleeping in and staying up late, trading YouTube videos with Weston and playing video games. Ever since he and Lee split, sleeping had been difficult. They'd had an amazing Sleep Number bed that Lee's parents had gifted them for their wedding. Obviously, he didn't have that anymore. In his duplex, he had a full-size mattress on the floor that Hunter kept offering to go grab him an Ikea bed frame for. There was a bed in the basement in "Syd's" room that he would eventually turn into a guest room, and a futon that somehow Brady made it through three months on in the other upstairs bedroom.

Even his couch sucked.

The bed at his parents' condo was fine. He just couldn't get himself to pass out unless he was extremely tired, and he only seemed to be tired during the day.

And when he finally fell asleep, he slept until noon. Rinse and repeat.

He wasn't in a rush to get to Weston's apartment. Weston would be streaming when he got there, and he said Quinn could hop in and play whatever game Weston was playing.

Now Quinn just had to figure out what to pack.

He called Syd and stuck his phone between his shoulder and ear. She picked up on the second ring.

"He lives," she said, her tone flat and bored as usual.

"I need to tell you my whereabouts for the weekend so someone knows where to look for my body should anything go wrong."

"Do you need me to come home? Because I'm barely doing anything here. I can come. I know Missy would love to have the start in net this weekend. It's a home game."

"This isn't a cry for help." Right? "I'm going to Duluth to meet an online friend."

"Are you being catfished?"

"I've video-chatted with him. He's a streamer."

"The one you always have on constantly?"

"Weston," he supplied. No use arguing the truth.

"Trying to get over Lee by getting under someone else?"

"Gross, Sydney."

"What? Seemed like that's what you wanted this summer."

"Yeah, but I couldn't actually go through with it." It was hard to imagine anyone wanting him like that when he didn't like any part of himself, and he couldn't handle any more rejection.

"Whatever. I'm going to have a lot of questions later, but I should probably be doing this reading. Text me twice a day at least. When are you going home?"

"Sunday evening, I think. I'll keep you posted. What's going on that's making you want to give up your start? You worked so hard for that."

"I'm feeling unattached to Madison. Homesick. Hockey is about to end for me, anyway."

"Enjoy your last games. Keep your head up. You're always welcome in Northeast." Even if Quinn wasn't at the duplex these days, Syd had a key and a bed.

He hung up and updated his phone tracking so Syd could see where he was.

The only other person who had access to his location was Hunter. Removing him might make sense, but it felt like giving something up that he wasn't ready to give up. As far as he was concerned, he and Hunter were forever. Even if they were struggling.

He left Hunter's location access alone and resisted checking in on him. He was at school. Quinn didn't need an app to tell him that. And knowing that Hunter could open the app any time to check in on him, too, was comforting.

He sent Weston a text to let him know he was on his way, and then he got in his car.

The car was the one nice thing that Lee let him leave their relationship with. It had technically been in Lee's name, even though it was "Quinn's car," because he had better credit. It was even paid off, which he was desperately grateful for as an unemployed person.

Lee firmly believed that Quinn had wronged him, when Lee was the one who had cheated. The Instagram photos of Lee and the fashion student in Italy flashed through his mind. The mental gymnastics Lee was capable of were unmatched. Their relationship had been more of a struggle after college than it had been in college, but Quinn thought they were both committed to making it work. But Lee wanted out, and he justified his cheating by making Quinn the villain.

If he'd come to Quinn with divorce papers before he'd cheated, Quinn would have understood. Sometimes the effort to make a relationship work wasn't worth it. Quinn thought he deserved the honesty. Lee clearly didn't.

He shook his thoughts out of his head as he got on I-35 and headed north.

The drive to Duluth was an easy one. Find Interstate 35, take it north. Eventually it would dump you right in Duluth.

Unfortunately, that meant a lot of time for thinking.

The thought that was always swirling around his mind these days was Hunter. Hunter had only ever been an incredible friend to him, and Quinn had fucked it up. He hadn't realized that his jokes about Hunter's sex life had stopped being funny years ago. That Hunter was laughing along out of hurt and awkwardness, not agreement.

In the aftermath of being an asshole, Quinn realized he was jealous of Hunter. Hunter never had a shortage of people who desired him, and he never settled. He didn't get married to the first man who said the L word, and he didn't have to pick up the pieces of his life and start over.

Quinn spent a lot of time rehearsing apologies to Hunter that never fully covered what he wanted to say. He would need conversation chapter markers, footnotes, and asterisks.

It was easier to think about Lee. With Lee, Quinn didn't have to worry about fixing that relationship. He could just be mad.

By the time he was an hour away from Weston, he was getting nervous. There was something borderline not-real when it came to people you knew from the internet. Until you saw them in front of you, they were just pixels.

Online, Quinn and Weston had chemistry together. It was effortless to flirt with Weston because he gave it back so easily. Quinn wasn't the only person Weston flirted with, but he got the most flirtatious attention.

He wondered if that would spark something more.

Syd's words rang in his ears. In order to get over someone, you have to get under someone else. It worked for Brady, his younger brother, but Brady wasn't dealing with a divorce. He had just needed someone to smack him upside the head, and apparently Cole was efficient at that.

Quinn was proud of Brady. He had gone through a lot of emotional growth this past summer, while Quinn had just stewed in his own unhappiness. How had his little brother, an athlete, gotten saddled with more emotional intelligence than Quinn? Quinn was an artist. Didn't that mean anything anymore?

Quinn needed more than someone who could force his emotional growth. He needed someone to crank him through a pasta machine.

He let out a breath as he crested the final hill before Duluth spread out in front of him. On his right, Lake Superior, sparkling in all her endless glory. On the left, a city on a hill, dense with houses.

The interstate was a waterslide of raised overpasses, and when his car was finally back on solid ground in the heart of the city, his GPS told him to turn left. His car climbed up the hill.

Weston's apartment building was small, and Quinn parked where he'd been instructed to and grabbed his phone. He pulled up Weston's stream. He was playing old Mario, which he knew was one of Weston's comfort plays. It was one of Quinn's comfort watches.

He shot off a quick message and heard the ding of Weston's phone that he usually kept on silent. Weston smiled as he read Quinn's text.

"Okay, I need to take a five-minute break. A special guest just arrived. I think you will be pretty excited about it."

Weston's smile brightened as he popped up his "back soon" screen, and as music came out of Quinn's phone speakers, his worry vanished. Weston wanted him here.

Quinn grabbed his duffel from his back seat, and Weston burst out of the front of his building. His smile when he saw Quinn was blinding.

"Hi," he said, going straight in for the hug. Quinn caught him, holding on just as tight as Weston was. No awkwardness there.

"You are just as short as I thought you would be," Quinn said, taking in Weston's spicy scent.

"Please don't tell me I have short-person energy. That would honestly break my spirit. Do you have any other bags?"

Quinn shook his head and followed Weston to his studio apartment. There wasn't much to it. His stream setup was in a corner, and his bed was much closer to it than Quinn would have imagined. He also had a futon, a bathroom, and a cramped little kitchen. But this neat and tidy space was all his. He didn't have to share it with anyone.

"You wanna freshen up and then we can play Fixer Upper?"

Quinn had been there for two seconds and he was already on the brink of his stream debut. It was what they'd agreed on, but it still felt fast.

He relieved himself and ran some cold water over his wrists to calm down, and when he was done, he found Weston adding a chair to his stream setup. The wooden dining room chair looked silly next to Weston's lavender gaming chair. Weston plopped himself down in his chair and motioned an invitation to Quinn.

The two of them smashed into the small space together, and Quinn put on the headset Weston handed to him, and Weston pointed out the mic he had already set up for Quinn. Quinn's view from this angle was lights and cameras and monitors. To Weston's credit, his cable management was impeccable. Quinn could never.

"Are you ready?"

"Maybe?"

"You know how to have fun during stream. Just be yourself."

Despite the fact that Quinn didn't like himself very much at the moment, the advice calmed him down.

"And we are back," Weston said, eyes zooming in on the chat immediately. His game of Mario was paused with Mario midjump, just hanging in the air. It was exactly how Quinn felt. "Does anyone have any guesses for who our esteemed guest is today?"

Weston did some Vanna White hands in front of Quinn's chest to show him off, and Quinn couldn't help his blush. One of Weston's hands rested against Quinn's chest idly as he read through the chat. Quinn decided it was an invitation and covered it with one of his own hands. Immediately, Weston reciprocated the touch. Quinn was sure his face looked dopey, but he had shivers down his chest just from that touch.

He was lonely.

The chat exploded, and it didn't take long for them to put together the fact that Quinn hadn't been in chat that day, and their in-person flirting was just as natural as it was online.

"Quinten, please say hi to chat," Weston said, confirming his identity.

"Hey, everyone. Sorry I missed most of today. Had to drive up to visit this one." He tugged on Weston's hand, and good god, the blush on his cheeks was glorious. He hadn't made Lee blush since sophomore year.

They were hamming it up for the stream and Quinn knew it, but it was hard not to when everyone was eating it up with a spoon.

"You have so many questions," Weston said, shaking his head as question after question came in asking about their relationship. Are you boyfriends? Ha! I knew they were together! My OTP3 "Instead of answering any of them, I figured we could play some Fixer Upper, since it's Q's favorite game, as we all know."

Weston had to take his hand back to play the game, and he grabbed controllers for both of them. Weston was seamless as he chatted and pulled a new game up at the same time. Quinn wasn't sure how to string two words together on camera.

"Is he as beautiful in person?" Quinn read, seeing the question was for him. "You wouldn't even believe it." He peeked over at Weston, who bit his lip and looked down at his keyboard.

This was fun. Being with Weston in person was exactly like their phone calls and their months of stream interactions.

Quinn's life was fucked, but this was one little gleaming sliver of happiness and he was going to bask in it.

They streamed for an hour and a half, and when Weston's regular end time hit, they signed off. Being on the other side of the stream that he spent such a huge chunk of time in was wild. The friends he made in chat were so excited to see him with Weston, and Weston made an easy example of how to interact with chat, play the game they were playing, and be entertaining all at once.

"First stream down," Weston said, setting his headset down and exporting the stream to YouTube so people could watch on demand. "How do you feel?"

"It was fun. Not sure if it was because streaming is fun, or if it was because we got to stream together, though."

"I had fun with you too. I know it's wild to go visit an internet friend spur-of-the-moment, but I'm glad you came. It's been ages since I had anyone in my apartment. It's not the best place to host."

"It's awesome."

"You said you own your house, right?"

"Co-own a duplex with my best friend. And before that, I was sleeping in said friend's guest room after his roommate ditched him to move in with her boyfriend. And before that I lived in my husband's house. Ex-husband."

"It wasn't your house, too?"

"He bought it right before we got married. It was never in my name. If you have strong house opinions, buying one without consulting your fiancé right before you get married is a great way to ensure you don't have to compromise."

"Oh, shit. And you still went through with the wedding? Sounds like it's a good thing you left him."

"He left me. I'm glad I'm not with him anymore, but it still hurts. Rejection, not feeling wanted. The standard." Quinn got up from the chair he was sitting in and stretched. His brain had been going on overdrive since that morning. It wasn't even that late, but he was getting tired.

"Our value doesn't come from our romantic relationships," Weston said. He slid past Quinn and went to the fridge and held out a Sprite. Quinn accepted. "I was thinking of making this cheesy sausage pasta for dinner? Do you eat meat? Or have allergies?"

"Yes meat, no allergies."

Weston got busy, and the kitchen was honest-to-god too small for Quinn to help. He stood by the small entrance and watched as Weston moved efficiently through the room.

"What about you?"

"Regarding?"

"Boys. Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?" Quinn would feel like shit if Weston had a partner. He knew Weston was pan from previous streams, but since Weston got a lot of engagement from silly flirting, it made sense to not disclose romantic partners in his real life. Even though all they had done was flirt, now that Quinn was in Weston's apartment alone with him, he wanted to make sure he wasn't ruining someone's life the way Lee ruined his.

"Please think more highly of me than that. I would never spend months flirting with someone, invite them to my place, and cook them dinner if I had a partner."

"Okay. Good to be clear on that. I'm also single, since I hadn't mentioned that specifically."

Weston shot him a smile over his shoulder. Heat spiked through Quinn, just like when they flirted in chat. Quinn usually liked male attention. It gave him a confidence boost, made him feel special. But for years, any interaction with a man who wasn't Lee was a temporary compliment. He liked that someone thought he was hot enough to buy a drink for, but it didn't make him curious about the person flirting. There was no connection there and it was more a 2D interaction.

Flirting with Weston was like a 3D experience, in full stereo. It felt like when he'd met Lee and his stomach had been in knots for months, nerves creeping in every time he'd walked toward history class. Or when Lee would make him the saddest dorm room meals for their budget date nights. When his hand would find Quinn's knee under the blanket as they watched a movie.

Looking at Weston was a constant shiver down his spine.

It was only the second time he'd felt this way. Like he had to get closer to Weston.

"Did you go to school?" Quinn asked. He had a thousand questions, so he had to start somewhere.

"I have some online credits. My health got out of whack when I was a kid and into my late teens. I was out of school enough for it to fuck with my GPA, and I never got the bug for learning, I guess. Plus, as soon as something stressful happens, my immune system goes haywire, and I can't afford to have that happen every midterm and finals for four years. You?"

"Boring old graphic design bachelor of arts."

"That's not boring. That's cool. You're going to have no problem finding a new job."

Quinn didn't know about that. He knew too many companies whose graphic design departments were just an intern on Canva or someone feeding prompts into AI.

"Show me some of your work."

"It's so embarrassing," Quinn said. He pulled his phone out anyway and found his Instagram. He hadn't been on social media much lately, even as a lurker. Scrolling past the cool stuff other artists had made recently, knowing that he'd done just about nothing, made his heart ache. It was easier to keep the app closed.

"You can scroll."

His breath caught in his throat as he handed over his phone, and Weston started scrolling down his profile.

"Holy shit, this is so cool," he said, zooming in on something with his thumbs and pulling the phone close to his face to see better. "You're talented."

"I haven't done any of that stuff for a while. Just been trying to survive."

"We all have survival seasons. You can't be prolifically creative every second ever."

"I guess you're right." How had he bypassed grace for himself completely?

Weston asked about Quinn's family, and he explained about his younger siblings, and Jonathan, and how Hunter was basically his brother too.

"I have an older sister."

"Is she cool?"

"Unfortunately not." Weston laughed. "Even though we didn't grow up in a particular religion, she fell in with a group in high school that was pretty Christian. That's how she met her husband, who is super intense about it. They have two kids."

"I bet the kids are cute."

"I don't get to see them often."

"Oh shit, seriously?"

"Christy refuses to vaccinate them, and her kids are going to get the measles one day. Her household is always sick. I've been sick enough in my life. I don't need any more illness, so I see them sparingly. She doesn't give a shit. Plus, she and her husband are kind of homophobic. They won't come out and say it, but it's not a secret." Weston shrugged and turned away from Quinn to pour some pasta into boiling water.

Quinn couldn't help himself. He stepped closer, putting his hand on Weston's shoulder.

"You deserve better than that," Quinn whispered. He was grateful for his own siblings. Yes, maybe he punched Jonathan more recently than he was proud of, but his siblings had good heads on their shoulders. He wasn't worried about who any of them were as people.

"I've never had a boyfriend," Weston blurted.

"Oh."

"I know it makes me a loser. With health stuff, I don't know, it's a lot to ask of people."

"You're not a loser. I'm the one who got divorced. I blew up my friendship with my best friend out of jealousy and abandonment feelings when I punched my brother. It isn't a competition, but still, you're not winning the loser race."

Weston laughed. "People just assume that by the time you're my age, you've had a few relationships under your belt, but I haven't. And I don't like lying about it."

"You shouldn't have to."

When did their conversation get so heavy?

Weston finished making their food, and they ate on the futon, since his dining table was only made for one person. The TV was on a fancy tripod stand, and Weston turned it away from his bed and toward the futon. It was a great use of the small space. The bed and futon were facing each other on the exterior wall, and the TV could rotate to be viewed from either spot.

"What do you want to watch?"

"Well, I did miss most of your stream today, so..."

Weston bumped his shoulder into Quinn. "Ha ha. We can watch someone else stream, though." He found a streamer who Quinn had never watched before. She was playing Fixer Upper: Island, which Quinn liked watching someone else play way more than playing it himself.

"I like how creative Corinne is," Weston explained, pointing out how she used the space she was given differently than other players, and how it gave her developments such a nice flow.

Weston had a general handle on art and design concepts, and Quinn loved having this be a touchpoint between the two of them.

When they finished dinner, Weston took their plates back to the kitchen, and Quinn trailed after him.

"Want a drink? I'm into cocktails right now," Weston said.

"I'm taking a break from alcohol at the moment," Quinn said, hoping he wouldn't ruin the mood with his issues.

"Can I make you a mocktail?"

"I didn't know people actually did that. Yeah, that sounds great."

The drink Weston brought him was bright red and bubbly.

"Cranberry juice and lime LaCroix," he explained.

"Delicious. Thanks for being cool about the not drinking. I'm just trying to get a handle on my shit without numbing it."

"I get it. It's good to take a break when you need it."

Weston put on a semi-intellectual art film and grabbed a blanket from his bed because the temperature was starting to drop. The futon was small, and they had been flirting the whole time Quinn had been there. It felt natural to wrap an arm around Weston and pull him close, their bodies easing together as Quinn desperately tried to follow the movie.

Weston's fluffy black hair tickled the underside of Quinn's chin. He was going to have to sneak into the bathroom and read the synopsis of this movie to have any hope of having a conversation about it after, and when Weston got up to make them another round of mocktails, that's exactly what he did.

Quinn didn't need to worry about having a conversation about the movie, though. The fizz of energy between them rose until it bubbled over. Weston had ended up under Quinn's arm again back on the futon. Quinn was admiring the high arch of his eyebrows, and when Weston turned toward him, their lips met.

Quinn needed this more than he could admit. Soft, intimate physical touch. He'd been craving this feeling for months, and as their lips slid together, Quinn felt one notch better than he had moments before.

It was progress.

"I don't want a boyfriend," Weston said, his lips close to Quinn's, like he hadn't wanted to stop kissing to begin with.

"I'm the last person on earth who should be starting a relationship right now," Quinn said in agreement. Weston deserved someone better to be his first boyfriend. Not someone as messy as Quinn.

"Okay, so just friends?" Weston asked. He kept his eyes on Quinn as he slid onto Quinn's lap, straddling him. Fuck.

"Just friends." Quinn pressed a firm hand to Weston's lower back to keep him close as Weston claimed his lips again.

Weston may not have had a boyfriend before, but he'd clearly been kissing someone. They were just friends, but Weston kissed him with some weight to it. Like it meant something.

Or maybe this was just how boys kissed these days. It had been years since Quinn had kissed anyone new.

Weston's kisses were soft and teasing, and Quinn felt them all the way down to his dick. Erections had been sad lately. Not just because he had to deal with them himself, but also because jerking off felt lackluster. Even though his new depression meds made it easier for him to climax, he was still mostly dealing with a physical urge. It was always more fun to have an orgasm with someone else.

He slid his hands up Weston's hips and under his shirt, stroking the warm skin of his back.

Nothing radical was happening. They were just making out and getting to know each other. Quinn didn't come all the way up here for sex. He came to see if the chemistry he had with Weston was real. And it was. Real and potent.

There was no urgency. Weston had his hands in the back of Quinn's hair, and he tugged to tip Quinn's head back a little farther. Quinn groaned. His eyes fluttered shut, and the moments he waited before Weston pressed their lips together again stretched out too far.

They kept their clothes on. Weston wasn't making any moves to remove any layers, so Quinn followed his lead.

Quinn lost his sense of time. Without the pressure of finishing, making out could go on as long as they wanted. And as familiar as he was getting with Weston's lips, he wanted to get even more familiar.

Finally, Weston pulled away, sitting back a bit and straightening the t-shirt Quinn had pushed up in his exploration. He looked well-kissed, and even though they hadn't ended up in bed together, it was a better outcome than Quinn had any other night in the last eight months.

Weston got him set up on the futon, like they had discussed when they made these plans. And yes, he would have liked to sleep next to Weston, but he was getting the take-it-slow message. No need to jump into anything.

The futon mattress was thin and too short for him, so he slept diagonally.

Weston had a night-light in his bathroom shaped like a lighthouse, and the studio was small enough so that the faint glow of it spread into the main living space. He had a bat stuffed animal that he bundled into his arms as he pulled his own covers over his shoulders.

"'Night, GoodQ," he said from his little cocoon.

"Good night, MidWeston."