Fragile (Cedar Lakes University, #2)

by Meghan Hollie

“I’d walk back in there with my head held high because it means I was the one kissing you.”

“I’d like to come with you because I don’t want you to freak out. I’ll wait like a good boy on your bed, keep my hands to myself, then take you back to your party. We can arrive separately if you want. But one thing I’m not going to do is make you come, and then disappear. It’s not happening, Queenie.”

“March twelfth,” she repeats. I nod, knowing exactly what that date is. “Your birthday.” Her eyes flit from the phone to meet mine, as confusion and vulnerability etch on her face. “Why?” she

“Because…” I begin, needing to clear my throat. “You’re important to me. Always have been.”

“You’re my Queenie. And maybe now I realize I’ve been too blind to see what’s right in front of me.”

“I want to, so much. It's just...complicated.” “Life is complicated,” she replies, a hint of steel in her tone. “But that doesn't mean we should avoid what we want.”

“You know, looking at me like that, Queenie, will only get you exactly what you’re thinking about.” “What am I thinking, Miles?”

and I follow behind her like a lost puppy. Except with her, I’ve never felt lost. Instead, I’ve always felt seen. And I’m pretty sure I’d follow her anywhere.

“Is that my mom’s handwriting?” Quinn shifts nervously and nods, dragging her fingers over the small writing, and my heart thuds. “It is,”

“Where did you get that?” “She gave me some recipes for my fifth birthday.” She pauses for a second, guilt flitting across her features. “I thought you knew, I’m sorry.”

Quinn has a way of making everyone feel capable and important. It's one of the things I love most about her.

“I’m just trying to help you find some joy again, Miles. That’s all.” “Maybe you already have.”

I want to be the one to soak up her rays. Only me. At the very least, I want to be able to touch her in public more.

“I know a lot about you, Queenie. Like how you love to eat fries and dip them into vanilla milkshakes, which, by the way, is illegal. How you always find a song for every occasion, and how you organize your playlists by friendships. Or how you always wear those strawberry panties when it’s game day.”

“I’ll make you a deal, Miles Cooper. If you win tonight, score a touchdown, play your heart out on that field, then I’ll surprise you after the game.” “Surprise me?”

“Go play your game, Cooper. And win. First down.” “All the way.”

Twenty years of knowing Quinn, and it feels like I’m only just seeing her.

“Listen, we just never thought we’d see the day when Miles Cooper, the man who is too good for sparkly tape, would get his own scrapbook.”

“Like I said, it’s no big deal, so stop making it one.” “It is a big deal. I’m not about to share my favorite tape or glitter pens with you,” Hudson protests, holding his prized materials close. “Relax, he’ll pick his own,” I soothe, then turn my head to Miles. “Think of colors that match and might complement each other and we’ll get you started.”

“What’s your favorite color?” “Green,” he replies without missing a beat and holds my eye contact with a phenomenal amount of intensity. “Light green or dark green?” I manage to force out, looking away, unable to maintain eye contact.

I still want to selfishly hold on to Miles for myself a little longer. I’ve spent my whole life sharing him and now he’s mine.

“Look at me again,” he says quietly as our friends busy themselves around us. I glance up, and he studies me, well my eyes, for a long time. “Hm, yeah, more of a light green.”

My eyes. His favorite color be...

“We, uh, keep them personal, since secrets and all kinds of things can be in there,”

Those green eyes glisten against the luminescent lights above us. “I’m ready when you are. I don’t love lying to my best friend, but I can’t deny that I’m a little scared too. Plus, I don’t hate all this sneaking around. It is kind of hot.”

“Eyes, Queenie. On me. Always,”

“Scares you?” “How right this feels.”

“I feel things for you, Quinn, and I don’t know where they’ve come from, because we’ve only ever been friends, but they’re there. Feelings. Big ones and…” He pauses for a second, and I realize I’m not breathing either. “I want to feel them. I think I’ve loved you across lifetimes, Quinn, and I don’t want to stop now.”

“Look at me,” she says, and I try—god, I try—but my vision is swimming, the room tilting like I might fall off the edge of the world. My heart is still racing, a wild, erratic beat that silences out everything else. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Her voice is steady, solid, and I latch onto it, desperate to pull myself out of the spiral.

“You’re not letting anyone down,” she whispers fiercely. “You’re doing your best, and that’s all anyone can ask of you.”

“And even if things don’t go the way you want, that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It just means you’re finding your own path, in your own time.”

“You can, baby,”

“Queenie, I’ve known you our whole lives. I can tell when something’s off. Talk to me.”

Her eyes, still shining with the traces of her laughter, meet mine, and the world seems to still for a moment.

The words are right there, on the tip of my tongue. I can feel them, taste them even, but something stops me. Fear, maybe. The fear that once those words are out, there’s no taking them back. That everything could change. That things between us could change. Hearing Quinn tell me she loved me would make me realize I’m wholly unworthy of her. When was the last time someone told me that?

the thing is, she gives me the strength to make me want to fight to be worthy of her because the t...

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m speechless. Everything? The way she’s looking at me, like I’m the only thing that matters in the world, makes me feel like I could actually be that for her.

“Everything, huh?” I say softly as a small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. I brush a thumb over her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin under my touch. She nods, her smile mirroring mine, and I want to make sure that I can be her everything, always because she’s my First Down: All the way girl.

“Exactly that. I crossed a line we agreed I wouldn’t. Because…you’ve always said no one’s good enough for her and that included me. So, we decided not to say anything for a while, figure things out until we were ready to tell you.”

“Or maybe you want me to leave and that’s the end of our friendship because I fucked everything. But I need you to know, I can’t lose her too. Ideally, neither of you.” Seb’s scowl deepens, and I definitely think he could give his dad a run for his money.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?” I blurt out, my heart racing. Miles leans against the doorframe, causally, like he wasn’t in a hospital bed yesterday, just like he doesn’t have anywhere else he’d rather be.

“Miles, I see the struggle in your eyes every day, the way the weight of the world presses down on you, and I wish I could carry it for you. But I want you to know that you're not alone in this.”

“I'm here, every step of the way, not just to pull you back when you're about to fall, but to walk beside you as you find your footing again. Even when you can’t see it, I see how strong you are. I see the good in you, and I’m not giving up on that, on you, because I know you can do better for yourself.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” I whisper. “And I’m here to remind you of that, every single day.”

“I don’t deserve you, and I know that. I broke your trust, but I’m too selfish to give you up. Just like I know you’re too stubborn to give up on me.” His voice trembles. “You saw the worst of me, and you still loved me.” “Love,” I correct, needing him to hear me. “Huh?” “You said loved, as in past tense.” I take a breath as I prepare to bare my soul to him. “There’s nothing past tense about how I feel about you, Miles. I’ve loved you since I was five years old.”

“Look,” I murmur softly. “See how I see you.” He hesitates for a second before taking it, his fingers brushing mine. Slowly, he begins flipping through the pages. Each sketch, every note, and memory is a piece of him, of us. And with each page he turns, I can hear his breath catch in his throat, the weight of what he’s seeing settling over him.

Slowly, he lifts his shirt, revealing a tattoo covered over with plastic wrap that I’ve never seen before. My eyes land on the design—a queen’s crown inked over his left pec, bold and intricate.