13. Chapter 13

Navigating the Tesla into the city is an absolute blast. Dad's car is fast. Like really freaking fast; I feel like I'm flying. After I heard him brag about his new car to Asher's dad and him failing to acknowledge me last night, I decided to be a little spiteful this morning. The key card was just sitting on the counter, calling out to me. I grabbed them, and then left a note on the counter.

Gosh, it's the most fun I've had so far, aside from waking up in Quinton's arms. Wait, why did I say that was fun? That wasn't fun, it was weird, or was it? My feelings about the situation are all screwed up. Maybe that's the problem, I haven't had a good screw lately.

Yeah.

Yeah, that's what it is.

As many times as I've stayed in his room, we have never, ever fallen asleep together. But waking up in his arms, it felt…it felt good. It felt surprisingly right. And to be honest, that scares the shit out of me.

Quinton Boyd is my best friend, my emotional support date, my partner in crime. He's my best friend. That's it. End of discussion.

Whipping through the hustle and bustle of Chi-Town, I finally reach our destination. This morning, I woke up deciding that today's heart-to-heart would need lots of good food. And comfort food is always a good idea. Grant Park Bistro is one of my favorites when I come home, which isn't often, but I always make sure that I can grab brunch when I can. I pull into the valet parking lane at the hotel next door. Exiting the car, I tip the valet when he slips us our valet ticket. Quinton and I make our way to the restaurant, taking in the craziness of Chicago on a Saturday morning. It's busy, full of groups heading to brunch and tourists exploring the city. I'm grateful I thought to book us a reservation last night. While I'm busy checking out the city, I notice that Q is glancing around too. It's his first time in the city, and I'm glad I get to be his tour guide.

He pulls open the heavy door to the restaurant for me.

"Are we underdressed?" he asks, as we step inside.

"Athleisure is in, Q," I say with a smile, my eyes cascading up and down his body, stopping to admire the way his gray joggers accent his body.

He's working with a very good asset, which I felt stabbing me in my stomach this morning. My mouth goes dry, but I can't help myself from staring. It's just right there. Men in gray sweats should be outlawed in public.

"Wilder, if you don't stop staring at my dick, we are going to have a very embarrassing repeat of this morning," he whispers.

Immediately, my eyes snap up to his, as heat spreads up my neck, and a pink blush settles on my cheeks.

"Good morning, welcome to Grant Park Bistro,"" the hostess greets us. "Just the two of you?"

"Yes, please," Quinton answers, placing his arm over my shoulders.

Clearly, he doesn't want to have a repeat of last night when I bitched out our waitress. Oops. This might be one of those "sorry, not sorry" moments.

"Oh, we have a reservation," I announce a little too loudly. I'm flustered. My nerves are shot. On top of that, I'm having weird feelings for my best friend, and I'm about to spill my deepest secrets that no one outside of Chicago knows. "It's under Wilder."

The hostess takes a minute scrolling through her iPad.

"Yes, there it is. Mr. and Mrs. Wilder, please follow me."

My stomach flutters at the hostess's slip-up, but neither Q nor I correct her. She leads us to a booth near the window, setting down our menus, and letting us know our waiter will be right with us.

Silence falls over the table as we peruse the menu. When it comes to eating out, I'm so predictable. I find something that I love, and I don't usually stray from it. Which means I'll be getting the Land Benedict—Eggs Benedict served with ham—a side of breakfast potatoes and a cup of fruit. Oh, and of course, a mimosa. Who can pass up a mimosa? Especially at brunch. Closing my menu, I place it at the edge of the table, the universal sign that I'm ready to order. While I wait for Q, I look around the space.

There's a couple at the table next to us, and you can definitely get that early dating vibe from them. Both are a little jumpy and a little awkward. While I can't see her face, I can see his, and his eyes say that he's nervous as hell, but he's smitten with her. There's a warm glow in his eyes. It's sweet, and I can't help but smile to myself as I watch them. It reminds me of a memory I've long since forgotten.

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Bryce and Brinley. Happy birthday to you," everyone sang around our table.

Bryce and I looked at each other before bending over to blow out two birthday candles on our piece of cheesecake.

Today is the day that Bryce and I finally turn sixteen. We can officially get our licenses. Hello, freedom! We've been waiting for this day, well, since we learned the significance of turning sixteen. Not only is today my sixteenth birthday, but Asher has a whole night planned for just the two of us to celebrate. I can't help but think that tonight is going to be the night, you know, the big one. We've done just about everything else, and all signs are leaning toward sex.

Just thinking of sex makes my cheeks flush. I quickly glance around the table, hoping that no one is paying attention to what I'm thinking about. Only my eyes snag on a pair of piercing blue eyes that are getting darker and darker by the second. Asher is watching me with intensity, and nervousness, but it's like he can sense my inner thoughts. The thoughts of the two of us finally losing our virginity, together. My cheeks flare, and I have to look away. Only I look the wrong way, catching my twin brother watching us.

Busted.

Bryce wraps his arm across my shoulders, leaning over to me to whisper in my ear. "I swear, Brynnie, you two need to chill out. It's written all over both of your faces. And I don't want to see that shit. You"re my sister, and he's my best friend. I've barely gotten used to the two of you playing tonsil hockey, I don't need to think of anything else going on between you two."

I lean in to add to the conversation. "How about you worry about you, and I'll worry about me, brother? The whole school hears about your sexcapades, which means I hear about them," I shiver. "Not to mention the girls who come up to me wanting me to pass on what they want to do to you. Makes me want to swallow bleach."

Bryce and I hold eye contact before we are interrupted by our parents.

"Kids, your dad and I have to stay in the city tonight for business. The Nelsons are going to drive you back home."

It's all I can do not to look at Asher. Instead, I bring my lip in between my teeth, biting back a smile.

Tonight is going to be the night.

"Brynn? Yo, Wilder?" I hear Quinton, breaking me out of the flashback.

Shaking my head, I look up at him, realizing our waiter is standing at our table.

"Shit, sorry," I mutter. "What did you ask?"

Our waiter looks me up and down before smiling at me and repeating his question of asking what I'd like to drink.

"I'll take a mimosa and a black coffee please."

He walks away and I realize that Q had already ordered, which means I was in quite a fog. While we wait for the waiter to return, silence falls over our table.

"Q, what goes in hard and dry then comes out wet and soft?" I ask the super inappropriate joke.

He just stares at me, blinking. It's almost like he's in shock that I would tell such a naughty joke.

"Gum, duh! What'd you think it was?"

Looking at me, he just shakes his head laughing. I just smile back at him.

Our waiter returns and sets down our drinks and takes our orders—the usual for me and steak cooked medium, eggs over easy, breakfast potatoes, and a side of fruit for Q.

"Where'd you go just a few minutes ago?" he asks, eyes full of concern, but his expression isn't one of annoyance.

A smile slowly stretches across my face. I imagine it looks like the Joker, a little crazy, a little unhinged.

"I was looking around and spotted the couple next to us," I say, gesturing my head toward the couple I'm talking about. "Watching them, I can tell they're on a date and it's new."

He squints his eyes looking at me with a questioning look.

"How do you know they aren't just friends? You blew up at our waitress last night for assuming we were just friends, which we are. Why are you assuming they're together?"

"Well, first of all, it's better to assume two people are together than that they aren't, that's just common sense. Second, look at his body language. He's nervous as fuck, but when he looks at her, his eyes flare with desire."

I watch Quinton watch them. He's seeing what I see.

Turning back to me, he folds his hands, placing his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands.

"Okay, say you're right, that doesn't explain why you just disappeared."

Inhaling a deep breath, I pick up my coffee, blowing on it before taking a sip. I take another drink, savoring that first taste of caffeine. It's my favorite thing in the morning. Placing the mug back on the saucer, I look at Q.

"Watching him all nervous made me think of my sixteenth birthday. Our parents and Asher's parents surprised us with an early dinner here in the city. Ash had plans for us to be together when I turned sixteen," I say, giving Q a look that he should understand what kind of together I was referring to. "Anyway, watching the nerves roll off that guy made me think of how nervous I was that whole dinner because I was finally sixteen."

He nods his head in understanding, but he doesn"t keep eye contact. He's frustrated, and I can't say I blame him. I just want to get through breakfast, and then I'll spill my story. Taking another gulp of my coffee, I decide to change the subject.

"How's it feel not having football this weekend?"

Changing the subject was a good call. I watch his shoulders ease and he relaxes in his chair, bringing his coffee up to his lips for a drink. Only I can't take my eyes off his lips. The way his thick, full lips contrast against the white mug. Nervously, I bring my lip in between my teeth and nibble.

What is wrong with me? Who is the doe-eyed girl?