“Damn, B, you are indeep ship.”
“You mean shit?”
“No, I meanship—as inrelation-ship.”
I fake gag. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that word.”
“You do know that the word relationship can mean a lotof different things, right? Like it doesn’thaveto be two people in love and only being with each other.”
“I live in the heart of Minneapolis in the 21st century, Quinn, I know that.”
“But do you really?”
“Now you’re just being condescending.”
“I’m serious. I think you’ve gotten so hyper-fixated on the idea of not wanting to be in a “relationship” because you feel like it’ll prevent you from doing the things you want to do.”
“Because that’s typically how it goes.”
“Yeah, but from what you’ve told me, Kass seems different. I mean, what about that day you, he, and Fia spent together at his house? You made it sound like the most blissful and freeing day.”
It really was.
“If you just talk to him, you could have that every day. Or at least differentversionsof that. I get he has a kid and all that, but he seems to be enjoying his lifedespitehaving a kid to care for.”
“Why are you harping on me? I told you I was giving things a shot with him.”
“Then why aren’t you going to the kid's birthday party?”
“It’s too early. Daisy's parents and his friends are going to be there. That sounds terrifying.”
“Since when the hell are you scared of people?”
“I’m not. It’s just…”
Why am I afraid? Quinn's right, I’ve never been afraid of meeting new people or using my stellar social skills to navigate through uncomfortable situations. So why am I suddenly paralyzed with fear?
“I actually don’t know why I’m scared.”
“Don’t you…?”
His question floats between us as we stare at each other. Quinn lifts his eyebrows ever so slightly, and it hits me.
It’s because I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel about Kass. Am I afraid to mess things up? Do I like him so much that the thought of his friends and family not liking me is making me anxious?
Shit.
Chapter Thirty-Five
KASS
We were lucky enough that the weather decided to cooperate and give us a sunny day for Clover’s Survivor-themed party. I had backup plans to do some things inside, but it limited what we could do. I’m reminded of that as I look out at the sea of kids racing through the homemade obstacle course I set up in the backyard.
Clover is beaming as she waits her turn, standing there with her team in their purple bandanas. Clover’s favorite color has always been yellow, so I was surprised when she requested her team color be purple. I can't kick the feeling that it may have had to do with a certain purple-haired person we’re both quite fond of.
If phones could tell you to chill the fuck out, mine would be rolling its eyes at me. I haven’t stopped checking my phone since she left this morning. She let me know when she made it home safe, but it’s been radio silence since. I’m trying my best to be present for Clover, but in moments like this, when she’s otherwise occupied, I can’t help but check.
Still no message. A part of me has been secretly hoping that she’ll show up. The other part of me, the part that’s rooted in reality, knows better. I guess that’s why my jaw nearly hits the floor when I see her walking around the corner of the house.