The Fiction Between Us (Honeywood, #2)

by Julie Olivia

We stay there a moment, letting ourselves settle. And even though my heart is racing, I feel at peace. At home.

This man is going to kill me.

Quinn: I won’t be your backup plan. Me: You could never be a backup plan.

“It’s weirder to be here with you, alone.” “You look cute when you talk through your teeth.” “I’m going to kill you.”

“I feel like I’m dropping the ball.” “You’re not.” Quinn blinks down at me, swallowing. “You’re not,” I repeat.

“Go be a bicycle,” I say. “In fact, ride the bicycle. Ride it real good.”

Landon: Don’t threaten me with a good time. Me: Down, boy. Landon: I wish you hadn’t sent that.

“Did you really enjoy reading over my shoulder?” I ask. “Lived for it,”

Quinn: So, we’ll have dinner at seven and a fight at eight? Me: Try seven thirty. Quinn: I’ll pencil it in.

“Go,” he says. “I’m not Old Yeller.” “And I’m not shooting you.”

“I’d redo it all if I could,” he finally says. “In a heartbeat.”

“Do you want me to like you?” He gives a small shrug as he tips his head to the side. “Wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

I pause. I raise my hand in a small wave. She blinks back at me before waving too. She points to my shorts and slowly mouths the words, Pizza butt? I laugh and nod back to her.

“With milkshakes,” she says. It’s not a question; it’s a demand. “Of course with milkshakes,” I say. “Who am I, Satan?” “I’m no longer sure.”

“What the hell are you doing?” she finally asks. “Something I should have done a long time ago.” Then, I cup her jaw in my hands, bend down, and kiss the ever-loving hell out of her.

“You panicked?” “Yeah,” he says with a slow nod. “You make me panic. How are you surprised? I’m a mess for you.”

“I would do anything for you, if you’d let me.”

“I would wait forever for you,”

“You are …” “Amazing?” she asks. “Wonderful?” “Intoxicating.”

She’s more than intoxicating. She’s fire licking across my nerves, a venom in my heart, a glass shard stuck in the depths of me that I’ll never be able to dig out.

“These are the books I used to read,” I say. “I didn’t know you had them too.” “I didn’t,” he says, taking steps toward me. “I bought them after.”

“You are my undoing, Quinn Sauer.” “And you are full of shit, Landon Arden.”

“You dog.” I pump my eyebrows at her. “Woof.”

It’s my favorite part of this restaurant. “This is my favorite space here,” Landon says, echoing my thoughts.

“Could,” I say. I reach out to intertwine my fingers with Quinn’s. “But you shouldn’t.”

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Landon asks. “How dumb you are,” I say.

“You might not be nice all the time, but I love that about you. You don’t know how it feels to be acknowledged by you. It’s a privilege for those who earn it.”

I’m not wanted here anymore.” “I want you.”

“You’re still here,” she breathes. I take her cheeks in my hands and nod. “Told you I’d wait for you,” I say.

I don’t want to be with someone, only for them to wake up one morning and realize what I really am.”

“There’s always a chance things don’t work out in life,” I say. “But you just have to place your bets on the ones that you enjoy and hope for the best.” “I’d bet on you,” she says.

“Quinn, did you just say something sweet to me?” I ask. “Momentary lapse of judgment. I take it back.” “No, no, it’s out there now.”

“Distracted?” he jokes. “Maybe. You?” “By you?” he asks. “Always.”

“You are the best annoyance,” I say. He chuckles, low and husky and warm. “And you are my favorite misery.”

“When you say things, they feel honest. You don’t sugarcoat anything. You make me feel real. I like that.”

He’s ready to go, peering at me with that dimpled smile, throwing a thumb toward his backside and mouthing, Pizza butt.

“Quinn,” I say, “you will always be my queen. And don’t ever think you’re anything less.”

“Tell me you like me,” I say. And without hesitation, she says, “I like you.”