18. Chapter 18

The flight home was uneventful. After the weekend we had, a quiet flight was much needed. Both of us were exhausted from the little sleep we got last night. Quinton and I left my parents" house with no word from either one of them.

Honestly, a small part of me was surprised they didn't even say goodbye to us. My dad barely looked at me and only said a few words to me. We've never had a relationship. Not like my mom used to have with us kids. Dad was always busy climbing the political ladder. He had high expectations for what our family was supposed to be like. Bryce was being groomed by Dad to get into politics like he had. Only that wasn't what Bryce wanted to do. A part of me wonders if that was why he was pushing to enlist so badly.

It shouldn't bother me. It really shouldn't. But it does. I feel emotionally drained and empty every time I come back from a visit. I never know if I'm going to get the parents who ignore me or the parents who want to pick apart my life. Is it so bad to want parents who love me for me? Quinton could tell that my thoughts were consuming me, but this time he let me soak in them which I appreciated.

Oh, and let's throw in a wild night of Truth or Dare where my best friend kissed me.

Quinton Alexander Boyd freaking kissed me.

That was one of the most heated and passionate kisses that I've ever had. It was the type of kiss you dream about. Raw, passionate, and hungry. No, it was fire, heat, and desire. It's like he's been wanting to do that for years. And I felt that damn kiss all the way to my toes. There was so much behind that kiss. When the two of us made it to the house, I went straight to my room. I didn't know what to say, instead I went to hide. But I couldn"t go to bed. So much was left unsaid that there was no way I was falling asleep without seeing him.

And the escalation of what happened in his room was not what I was expecting when I walked into his room.

But there he was, lying in bed in nothing but those damn low rise, gray sweats. I couldn't pull my eyes from him. Seriously, does he own any other color besides gray? His dark, smooth skin was on display, making his black tattoos call me forward. The look in his eyes when he saw me was heated, and the spark ignited something in my stomach. It felt like lava, and I melted right there for him.

What the hell do I even do?

After a night of Truth or Dare, everything changed. But is it enough for me to put my past behind me and move forward?

I'm lost in thought as the Uber driver is pulling up in front of my town house. Our ride from the airport is coming to an end, forcing us back to reality. Climbing out of the back seat, Quinton follows after, asking the driver to wait while he helps me to my door. He hands me my suitcase from the trunk, and the two of us head up the walkway to my front door. Digging my keys out of my purse, I slide them into the lock before turning to face Quinton. His eyes are trying to mask his thoughts, only I can read him better than anyone.

He's worried.

He's worried that last night changed everything. I can't lie and say that it didn't, because it did. We crossed over into new territory. But I'm not going to run, which I know he's worried about.

My arms wrap around his middle, pulling my body flush into his.

"Thank you so much for coming with me, Quinton," I say into his chest. "I wouldn't have gotten through this weekend without you."

"I'm glad I was there for you," he answers.

Slowly, he starts to pull away, but before he can, my hands reach for the nape of his neck. My hands are pulling his mouth down to mine. My lips find his. He's stiff at first, the reaction shocking him. But with one swipe of my tongue against his full lip, his body relaxes.

I'm freaking kissing Quinton.

Of my own will. No dares.

Just doing what feels right. And oh, does it feel right.

I finally release Quinton, and we both take a step back. Heat spreads across my cheeks, and I can only imagine how red my face is. Pulling my lip in between my teeth, my eyes slide up to meet his burning gaze. He's searching my face, both of us find what we're looking for as wide, ear-to-ear smiles stretch across our faces.

"See ya later, B," Quinton says, his long stride leading him to the waiting Uber.

Turning back to the door, I unlock the door, push it open, and step inside, dragging my suitcase behind me. Pressing my back against the closed door, I bring my fingers up to my lips. Lips that are bruised and swollen from Quinton.

"What the actual hell?!" Chloe gasps from the kitchen, startling me.

She's sitting at the kitchen bar, a coffee mug paused halfway to her mouth.

My head swivels in her direction as I grasp my racing heart. I didn't expect my roommates to be awake. There's no sense in hiding. Clearly, Chloe saw the whole thing from the window by the front door. Inhaling a deep breath, I head into the kitchen.

"Macy up?" I ask.

If I'm going to tell this story, I'd prefer to tell them both at the same time.

Chloe nods her head before yelling Macy's name. Macy comes tromping down the stairs, sleep lines still marking her face.

Sliding into the kitchen, she asks. "Where's the fire?"

"In Brynn's pants," Chloe quips.

Macy's eyes widen. "Shit, girl. Do we need to get you to urgent care? I'm sure it's a treatable one."

Chloe throws her head back with a huge cackle. "Not that kind of crotch fire."

Turning her back to me, her hands slap against her thighs as her laugh continues. "Our Brynn was just seen kissing a very attractive, very sweet CTU running back on the front porch."

I internally smack my palm against my forehead. These bitches aren't going to make this easy.

"What?" Macy screams. "You two this whole time?"

Before answering her, I reach up to grab a mug from the cupboard beside my head. Pouring a hot cup of freshly brewed coffee, I savor the delicious aroma. Grabbing the Bailey's next to the coffee maker, I pour a heavy shot or two into my mug. I'm going to need coffee with a kick to get through this conversation.

Hopping up on the counter, I turn and sit. It's time the girls learn my story, the whole story. Starting with losing my brother and boyfriend.

A soft knock sounds from my bedroom door. Sitting up, I feel a strand of drool slide down my cheek. Gross. Using the sleeve of my hoodie, I wipe off the drool. The last thing I remember was curling up under my blankets to watch a sailing reality show. A nap wasn't on my agenda for the day, but, apparently, my body had other plans.

Telling the girls brought out a lot of emotions. Tears were shed by all of us. Both of them were justifiably hurt that I kept something of this magnitude from them, but it's not a story I open with. And as time went on, it felt like it was too late to share. Eventually, they understood my reasoning, especially when I shared the crazy turn of events from my weekend with Quinton.

"Where do you two go from here?" Chloe asks as concern laces her expression.

"That's the thing, Chlo, I have no idea." Releasing a sigh, my head falls backward to rest against my headboard. "We never discussed what happened. And while things were happening, we left it as we were doing whatever felt right. There's no way we are just a hook-up. That'll ruin everything, but I don't date."

"Yeah, there's no way just a hook-up will end well," Macy added.

"What's your heart saying?" Chloe asks.

Out of the three of us, Chloe is the emotionally deep one. She's always trying to figure us out. You'd think that'd be me, the future psychologist, but I never think about intuition. She feels all the feels. She's always asking us the hard questions, really digging into our emotions to see how situations make us feel. While I'm the one who wants to be a counselor, I don't ever dig deeper. It's not because I'm self-absorbed, I hate when my friends are hurting. My instinct is to shut down and process, while Chloe's is to not let emotions fester like an open wound, but to work on healing.

"My heart is saying it'll only end up hurt in the end, with more pain I don't have the strength to endure. My head is telling me to really think it through…" I pause, letting the words settle around us while I gather more thoughts. "And then my body is telling me to screw everything and get his hands back on me."

The girls both give a small chuckle, but it's Macy who responds first. "That good, huh?"

"Yeah, Mace, that fucking good."

Silence falls over the room, no one having more to add. Both girls know I need more time to process everything.

"I didn't realize I fell asleep," I say, reaching over and checking the time on my phone. "Shit, I slept for like four hours."

"Yeah." Chloe laughs. "You needed it." We both look up at each other. She's concerned for me. And I appreciate it because, deep down, I'm concerned too. "I just wanted to let you know that family dinner is going to be about ten of us."

My eyes snap to my hairline.

"Okay. Who all is coming?"

Every Sunday night, the girls and I host a family dinner. It's open to any of our friends, we just ask that you give us a heads-up on whether or not you're coming, so we can have plenty prepared.

"Don't stress about it. Macy and I have it handled. I just wanted to give you a head's up because it might be a little…awkward," she says hesitantly.

"Chloe…" I whine.

Her body language shifts, and she lets out a deep sigh.

"Us three, JP, Grant, Tyler, Quinton, Crew, Cody, and Hudson."

The last thing I want is for anything to be awkward. Our family dinners are a tradition, and I don't want to be the cause of any problems. Causing drama is not my vibe. Us girls started having planned weekly dinners when we moved into our town house last year.

College is crazy, and schedules are even crazier. Between classes, jobs, and extracurriculars, it felt like we never saw each other, even though we lived together. Sure, we saw each other at home, but it was always passing by as someone was going somewhere or collapsing on the couch exhausted.

One Sunday night, the three of us were all home, we were actually able to sit and have a meal together. It was the best time, sitting, eating, and catching up. Real conversations happened outside of our group chat. Standing in the kitchen, the three of us were cleaning up the dinner mess when Macy suggested we make family dinners a weekly thing.

And thus, family dinners were born.

No one makes plans on Sunday nights. We enjoy a home cooked meal with no phones while we eat, and everyone chips in to help cook and clean.

Over time, our dinners were joined by some friends, and it grew. Now we keep dinners on the calendar for any of our friends who are craving "family" time or a home cooked meal. Chloe is the one to thank for the incredible food. While all of us can cook, Chloe is the one who grew up with a chef. Her dad is one of the top chefs in Dallas, and Chloe spent her time at home in the kitchen playing sous chef.

Lifting my arms up and over my head, my muscles groan at the movement, a blush heating my face. Immediately, I'm transported back into the spare bedroom at my parents', my arms above my head tangled in my shirt, Quinton's mouth devouring me.

Macy rips off my covers, slapping my ass as she stands up. "Go shower, you dirty ho."

Laughter fills the room as I stick my tongue out at her like a child.

"Damn, girls, it smells hella good in here," Jeremiah shouts from the front door.

He makes his way into the kitchen with a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers in his hand. JP always brings us a fresh bouquet of flowers when he comes for Sunday dinner. It's a sweet gesture that shows how much he appreciates the meal. Placing the bouquet on the bar, he comes over to where the three of us are finishing cooking dinner. He wraps each of us in his arms, leaving soft kisses on our temples.

"Thanks again for doing this."

Jeremiah didn't have the best home life growing up. We've gathered some information over the years and pieced some things together. He's one of five kids, and his dad left them when he was ten, forcing his mom to work three jobs to keep them fed and clothed, and a roof over their heads. Family dinners never happened, and homemade meals were few and far between. Having our weekly family dinners means the world to him, and we'll continue doing it to see him happy—all of us happy.

Family doesn't have to come from blood.

Family can come from a strong bond and a loving relationship.

We are each other's family.

"Yeah, girls, it smells so good. I'm starving," Grant adds, striding into the kitchen.

Glancing around him, my eyes scanning to find the one guy I've been nervously waiting for. My eyes land on his dark, muscular frame as he walks through the doorway. He's hesitant about what to do. Before this weekend, he would've been right behind JP leaning down and showing his appreciation with affection. Our eyes lock, both of us trying to read the other. After what feels like forever, a grin tugs at the corners of my lips. He returns the smile with a wink, turning to look at the front door that's opening behind him.

It's already changing.

Dinner is served family-style around our patio table, since it's the only table big enough to fit us all. Our town house has a long, fenced-in yard with a concrete patio right off the kitchen. We put a large table and extra, comfy chairs out there. The furniture isn't anything elaborate, but it works. I've been sitting on pins and needles since we all sat down. JP, Chloe, Hudson, and Tyler sit on one side, Macy and Grant sit at the ends of the table, and I'm sandwiched between Cody and Quinton, with Crew on the other side of Q. Freaking awkward.

Macy and Chloe cooked three pans of lasagna, enough breadsticks to feed an army, and a large garden salad. The boys were right. The food smells amazing, only my appetite is gone. Lasagna is one of my favorites, too.

Everyone digs in, shoveling forkfuls in their mouths. The boys carry the conversation, talking about this week's game, girls on campus, and the upcoming baseball season.

I'm so proud of them.

"Thanks, B," Grant says. Confusion must be reflected on my face, causing Grant to continue. "You didn't mean to say that out loud, did you?"

"Oh yeah, totally," I joke, winking at Grant. "But seriously, you guys are playing amazing."

"We comin' for that Natty," JP adds.

"And we'll be in the front row cheering," Macy says, moving her arms in a little cheer.

Cody slides his arm across the back of my chair, his thumb brushing my exposed shoulder. My body stiffens at his touch. It's not that Cody is touching me, that's not uncommon, our relationship is very touchy-feely. But that was before Chicago. Everything has changed in just three short days, and I don't know where anything stands.

"How did Chicago go?" Cody asks, scooping another bite of lasagna on his fork.

"Is that where you guys were?" Crew asks, joining our conversation. "I've only been once, for a field trip in middle school. Did you guys have fun?"

My gaze finds Quinton's, both of us staring at each other. My cheeks flame while a smirk tugs on Q's lips, both of us remembering last night. Grant is staring at me and Q. He gives a small shake of his head, but not before a small smile graces his face.

Grant knows. I mean, of course, he knows, he's Q's best friend.

"Umm…" I draw out. Looking past Quinton, I turn my attention to Crew. "I mean, it wasn't exactly a trip that was supposed to be fun. I had to go home for a charity gala honoring my brother and high school boyfriend who died five years ago."

As those words slip past my lips, the table goes eerily quiet.

Oh yeah, not everyone knows about the dead boyfriend.

Jeremiah's eyes widen, his mouth dropping open.

Something actually stunned JP into silence.

But then I watch his eyes snap to Q's too.

They all know something happened between us.

"Oh shit, Brynn," Jeremiah says as Quinton finds my thigh with his hand and squeezes in a show of support that I didn"t know I needed.

"Shit," Crew says, running his hand over his beard-covered jawline. "I had no clue, or I never would've said anything."

Grabbing my glass, I take a drink of sweet tea as I try to find my voice.

"Don't apologize. It's not something I talk about. Hell, no one at this table knew about Asher until this weekend. He was my high school boyfriend who was in the same car crash that killed my brother."

Eyes searching the table, I notice that my comment killed the mood.

"It's a good thing Q was there for, umm…moral support," JP adds.

Grand and Macy snort out a laugh. Leave it to Jeremiah to break the awkward silence, which I'm thankful for.

"Pass the salad," Chloe shouts, interrupting JP. But it wasn't fast enough. Cody's head whips to me.

"What'd he say?" Cody says at the same time JP says, "What? I didn't know you two kissing was a secret?"

Heat fills my cheeks for the hundredth time tonight.

When did I become such a girl?

Never have I blushed over kissing or even screwing a guy. With my eyebrows shooting to my hairline, I turn to Quinton.

Bumping his shoulder, I say, "I see someone couldn't keep his mouth shut."

He reaches his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in for a side hug, leaning down and kissing my forehead.

"I couldn't help it."

Smiling, I just shake my head and let myself embrace Quinton's touch.

"Oh shiiiit," Crew drags out. "You two an item?"

"What's with you and all the questions?" I ask Crew.

There's a grin on my face that lets him knowI'm not mad at his questions. Sliding out from under Quinton's hold, I pick up my fork and continue eating. But not before realizing that Cody hasn't said anything else. Slowly, I turn my body and find his eyes.

"What the hell happened in Chicago?" Cody asks, a chuckle leaving his mouth.

His gaze bounces back and forth between Quinton and me.

"Fucking Truth or Dare," Quinton responds, and I let out a laugh.

And for the next twenty minutes, I fill the table in on everything. From how Bryce and Asher were in an accident to the high school tribute, the bullshit gala, and Truth or Dare—leaving out what happened at the house. To say the table was silent is an understatement. No one moved the entire time I talked and cried. Yeah, seeing me cry was a shock to everyone at the table. I'm Brinley Wilder, the girl who never shows emotion. The girl who lives fast and parties harder.

But these people at this table are my family, and they deserved to know the truth. The whole truth. The good, the bad, and the very ugly.

Maybe they'll understand me a little better.

Mondays are my weird day of the week. All of my classes are in the afternoon, which is the opposite of almost every one of my friends and roommates. Instead of going to campus early and stopping at the Student Union for lunch, I head down to the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal, because, you know, cereal fixes everything. This giant bowl of Frosted Flakes is going to solve all my problems. In the words of Tony the Tiger, "You're GRRReat," or something like that.

It's kind of nice to go through the day without having to be on. I don't have to look for my friends and make small talk. I can put my headphones in and wander around campus, just going from class to class, living in my own little world. It might sound like I'm being fake with my friends, but I'm not. There are just some days where I want to be left alone with my thoughts and be up in my feels.

As much as I love being the wild, carefree girl, I've got inner demons I'm constantly in a fight with. There's a voice in my head that's always telling me that I'm not enough. As Brooke Davis told Peyton Sawyer in One Tree Hill, "your‘I love yous' send people to the grave." And I'm wondering if that's the same about me. Will me accepting my feelings and falling for Quinton only result in him being hurt or, even worse, dead?

I mean, how sick and twisted are these thoughts? But that's what's on repeat in my head. I'm scared. I'm scared to love. I'm scared to feel. I'm scared to get close to anyone.

Even though Quinton and I are in a state of limbo, last night I went to bed happy and carefree. Only to be brought back into my head this morning. But for a few hours, I got to be relaxed.

Finally, the weight of my past is off my shoulders. My friends know about my darkest secret and, before they left, each one of the guys hugged me, reminding me that they were there for me. It felt freeing. This morning I woke up with a slew of text messages. Quinton and Cody were checking on me. JP sent a text apologizing for ambushing the table with Quinton's moral support. Which made me laugh out loud.

When I left Chicago for Texas, I thought I'd be Brinley Wilder against the world. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I'd find my family. We might be dysfunctional, but we are dysfunctional in the best way. Each of us carries our own baggage, but we have each other to share the load.

The alarm on my phone blares in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts and reminding me it's time to head to class.

Parking is a bitch when I pull in. The only problem with having afternoon classes is that the parking lot is always full. Driving up and down the rows of cars, I spot one pulling out.

It is my lucky day.

Once the car is gone, I whip into the spot before anyone has a chance to steal it from me. There's no rule that the spot is yours until you're parked in it. Turn signals don't stake a claim. It's a dog-eat-dog world in the campus parking lot.

Climbing out of the car, I pop my headphones in and turn on my In My Feels playlist. Hopefully, the headphones let everyone know that I'm not in the mood to talk. Walking across the brick pavement, my Monday begins.

It's a beautiful fall day in Central Texas. Exiting Rogers Hall, I walk over to a bench in the quad to sit while I wait for my next class. I slide my phone out of my backpack, opening Instagram. Scrolling through my feed, a thought pops into my head. Closing out of the app, I swipe over to my camera app, positioning it toward the quad, I take a creative photo of the trees with a few leaves gathered around the trunk. Snapping the pictures, I do a quick edit because duh, everything needs to be edited before posting. Quickly thumbing out a caption, I post the picture. The caption reads I'm fall-ing for you, and all I can hope is that the one person I want to see the photo sees it.

My last class of the day is a quick one. We have an exam this week, so the professor gave us a brief review of what we can expect to be tested on. Making my way out of the hall, I'm stopped by someone yelling my name.

"Brynn?" a girl asks, out of breath. Huffing and puffing, she starts talking. "Sorry, I raced to catch up to you. Clearly, I need to add more cardio to my workouts. A bunch of us are studying tomorrow night and didn't know if you wanted to join us."

This girl talking to me looks familiar, but I can't put a name to her face.

I really need to do a better job at getting people's names.

She's average height with killer curves. Her blonde hair is a natural balayage and her makeup is on point. She's dressed in a pink and white floral dress with brown booties. A puzzled look must be written on my face because, before I have a chance to answer, she speaks up again.

"Oh my gosh, you have no idea who I am. I must look like a total stalker. Which I'm totally not," she rushes out, and I interrupt her before she can continue.

"I'm sorry, I recognize your face, but I can't remember your name."

A smile breaks across her face.

"I'm Savannah Holycross. We've partied together. I"m a Delta Zeta."

"Hey, nice to put a name to a face," I say, returning her warm smile. The football team parties with the DZs all the time. I should've known her name, but again, I live in my own world. "Where y'all studying?"

"We've got a room in the library," she starts, handing me her cell phone. "Here, put your number in. I'll text you all the deets."

Grabbing her phone, I put my number in, sending myself a text so I have hers too.

"Sounds good. I should be able to make anything work. Thanks."

She walks away, and I pull my phone out to save her information. It's seven thirty and I'm exhausted. There's an NFL game tonight, so instead of heading home, I head to The Eagles' Nest for dinner and the game.

Wings, beer, and football. Sounds like the perfect way to end this day.