The Lineup Quotes

“God created blow jobs for one reason: so men can dispense of the moronic sperm.”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“this is almost too good to be true. I found her. My woman. My future.”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“Jason: That conversation was weird, huh?

Jason: For what it’s worth, you truly held your composure.

Jason: I wasn’t frightened at all.

Jason: Okay, throwing down some honesty. I was a little frightened.

Jason: Just a little, nothing like pissing my pants or anything like that.

Jason: Did you know you have a pulsing vein in your forehead when you’re angry?

Jason: I counted its pulse rate and I think you might have high blood pressure.

Jason: I’m not a nurse, I don’t know about blood pressure, but CVS has one of those arm-pressure-checker things. Want me to take you? #WorriedAboutYourHealth

Jason: #PulsingVein

Jason: #SerpentTongue

Jason: ^^ Oh shit that was for Knox.

Jason: I wasn’t saying you have a serpent tongue. I’m sure your tongue is normal. Not one ounce of evil in it.

Jason: Okay, I was talking about your tongue.

Jason: I feel like since you’re not texting back I might be digging myself an even bigger hole than before. Am I right?

Jason: I’m going to take your silence as a yes, which in that case, you don’t have a serpent tongue. Love that pulsing vein, and not once was I frightened. There. *Wipes forehead* Glad we cleared that up. Have a good night. #GodBless

Jason: P.S. Don’t know why I said God bless, just go with it. #PrayerHands

Jason: P.S.S. I’m wearing my flannel jam-jams. I like when they ride up in my crack. #FeelsNice”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“Jason, it’s a pleasure.” Instead of being in awe or “fangirling” over one of the best catchers in the country, my dad acts normal and doesn’t even mention the fact that Jason is a major league baseball player. “Going up north with my daughter?”

“Yes, sir.” Jason sticks his hands in his back pockets and all I can focus on is the way his pecs press against the soft fabric of his shirt. “A-plus driver here in case you were wondering. No tickets, I enjoy a comfortable position of ten and two on the steering wheel, and I already established the rule in the car that it’s my playlist we’re listening to so there’s no fighting over music. Also, since it’s my off season, I took a siesta earlier today so I was fresh and alive for the drive tonight. I packed snacks, the tank is full, and there is water in reusable water bottles in the center console for each of us. Oh, and gum, in case I need something to chew if this one falls asleep.” He thumbs toward me. “I know how to use my fists if a bear comes near us, but I’m also not an idiot and know if it’s brown, hit the ground, if it’s black, fight that bastard back.” Oh my God, why is he so adorable? “I plan on teaching your daughter how to cook a proper meal this weekend, something she can make for you and your wife when you’re in town.”

“Now this I like.” My dad chuckles. Chuckles. At Jason. I think I’m in an alternate universe.

“I saw this great place that serves apparently the best pancakes in Illinois, so Sunday morning, I’d like to go there. I’d also like to hike, and when it comes to the sleeping arrangements, I was informed there are two bedrooms, and I plan on using one of them alone. No worries there.”

Oh, I’m worried . . . that he plans on using the other one.

“Well, looks like you’ve covered everything. This is a solid gentleman, Dottie.”

I know. I really know.

“Are you good? Am I allowed to leave now?”

“I don’t know.” My dad scratches the side of his jaw. “Just from how charismatic this man is and his plans, I’m thinking I should take your place instead.”

“I’m up for a bro weekend,” Jason says, his banter and decorum so easy. No wonder he’s loved so much. “Then I wouldn’t have to see the deep eye-roll your daughter gives me on a constant basis.”

My dad leans in and says, “She gets that from me, but I will say this, I can’t possibly see myself eye-rolling with you. Do you have extra clothes packed for me?”

“Do you mind sharing underwear with another man? Because I’m game.”

My dad’s head falls back as he laughs. “I’ve never rubbed another man’s underwear on my junk, but never say never.”

“Ohhh-kay, you two are done.” I reach up and press a kiss to my dad’s cheek. “We are leaving.” I take Jason by the arm and direct him back to the car. From over his shoulder, he mouths to my dad to call him, which my dad replies with a thumbs up.

Ridiculous. Hilarious.

When we’re saddled up in the car, I let out a long breath and shift my head to the side so I can look at him. Sincerely I say, “Sorry about that.”

With the biggest smile on his face, his hand lands on my thigh. He gives it a good squeeze and says, “Don’t apologize, that was fucking awesome.”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“Ten years later . . .

“Dude, you look like shit,” Carson says, clapping me on the shoulder.

“This is my best sweater, and it’s supposed to make me look devastatingly handsome.”

“It’s olive green,” Carson says with a question in his raised eyebrow.

“Leave me alone.” I rest my head on the counter. “It’s been ten years since my heart was broken and it still aches.”

“Ten years?” Carson laughs. “It’s been ten fucking days.”

Ten days later (That’s right, sorry about that) . . .

“Iknow, but ten days has felt like ten years. And I thought wearing my green sweater to Friendsgiving would be a nice pick-me-up but you just peed all over that idea.”

“Does anyone like this sweater besides you?”

“I get a lot of once-overs whenever I wear it. I think it’s how the color brings out my delicate green eyes.”

“Or it’s the cross-stitched mountain range on the front.”

I glance at my sweater and then rub my fingers over the cross-stitch. “I used to pretend it was brail and it would read, ‘You’re handsome, always have been, always will be.’”

“I don’t understand how we’re friends.” Carson shakes his head.

“Running pole-to-pole suicides at Brentwood together formed an unbreakable bond.”

“God, you’re right.” ”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“I think we all know what happens when you take your eyes off the broiler; it eats your meal alive and then laughs at you when you’re crying into your burnt and unrecognizable dish.”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“Dottie: I miss being across the hall from you.

Jason: Words I never thought you’d say.

Dottie: I know, I surprised myself, but despite your annoying tendencies and non-stop chattering, I miss it.

Jason: You’re making my heart soar like a fucking falcon. A goddamn FALCON, Dottie.

Dottie: Falcon. That’s pretty serious. Do you know what would have been more serious? An albatross.

Jason: Pfft, no way. They might have a ten-foot wingspan, but they’re seabirds, so they shit in the ocean. Where’s the fun in that?

Dottie: As opposed to . . .

Jason: Shitting on people’s heads, of course. If I was a bird, that would be my main purpose in life, shitting on unsuspecting people’s heads. Think about it, being targeted by a bird bowel movement is detrimental as a human being. You’re just going about your normal business when all of a sudden, WHACK, white goop drips from your forehead down your cheek. What is that, you think? You carefully touch it, your fingers immediately wet with semi-warm liquid. And when you realize it’s an anal secretion from a flying vertebrate, all hell breaks loose. The horror! The disgust! The SHAME OF BEING SHIT ON. There’s no coming back from that. #DayRuined And as the maniacal bird, there you are, floating around in the peaceful skies, watching idiot humans running around in circles, trying to get rid of the poo-poo. With one flip of the feather—or the bird, hey-o—you’re off to the bird feeder, filling up so you can drop turd once again. A vicious cycle of humans feeding birds only to get shit on unsuspectedly, I AM HERE FOR THAT!

Dottie: I was wrong. I don’t have to be across the hall to be annoyed by you.”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“Are you two dating now?”

“Yup,” I say with finality. “We’re a couple, so I’m sorry to inform you but your title of cutest couple is about to be stolen.”

“You think we’re cuter than Milly and Carson?” Emory asks.

“Of course. No competition. Milly is gorgeous but Carson is bringing down the team. I surpass them without even having a girlfriend, hell, if I were coupled up with my nightstand, I’d be a better couple.”

“I’ll be sure to spread the news on to Carson.” Knox laughs to himself.

“Not the best idea, you know how sensitive he is.”

“I think you’re referring to yourself,” Knox points out.

I chuckle. “True, I’m very sensitive and if he finds out and comes after my ass, I won’t recover easily, which means I’ll be over here at your place, begging you to nurse me back to health so my lady friend doesn’t have to see me in such a weak state.”

Knox scratches the side of his jaw and says, “Have I ever told you how much I really don’t like you?”

“Almost every day.” I wink at him.”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“Never eat your feelings, that’s what my chef says. Whoever doesn’t eat their feelings isn’t dealing with mishaps and pain correctly.”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“You have got to be—”

Her sentence is cut short when the elevator makes an abrupt stop, jostling both of us into the walls of the small carrier.

“Huh, would you look at that?” I glance around the small room, wondering what’s wrong.

“No, no, no,” Dottie says over and over again, as she rushes to the panel and presses the emergency button.

When nothing happens, she presses all the other buttons.

“That’s intelligent,” I say, arms crossed and observing her from behind. “Confuse the damn thing so it has no idea what to do.”

She doesn’t answer, but instead pulls her phone out from her purse and starts holding it up in the air, searching for a signal.

“It’s cute that you think raising the phone higher will grant you service. We’re in a metal box surrounded by concrete, sweetheart. I never get reception in here.”

“Damn it,” she mutters, stuffing her phone back in her purse.

“Looks like you’re stuck here with me until someone figures out the elevator broke, so it’s best you get comfortable.” I sit on the floor and then pat my lap. “You can sit right here.”

“I’d rather lick the elevator floor.”

“There’s a disgusting visual. Suit yourself.”

I get comfortable and start rifling through my bag of food. Thank God I grabbed dinner before this, because I’m starving, and if I was stuck in this elevator with no food, I’d be a raging bastard, bashing his head against the metal door from pure hunger.

Low blood sugar does crazy things to me.

I bring the term hangry to a new level.

There’s only—

“Why are you smiling like that?”

I look up at her. “Smiling like what? I’m just being normal.”

“No, you’re smiling like you’re having a conversation inside your head and you think you’re funny.”

How would she know that?

“Well, I am funny.” I pop open my to-go box filled to the brim with a Philly cheesesteak sandwich and tons of fries. Staring at it, I say, “Oh yes, come to papa.”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“Should I be scared?”

“I think you should get ready for quite an inquiry, but they’re necessary questions that must be answered if I want to ask you out on a second date.”

“What if I don’t want to go on a second date?”

“Hmm.” He taps his chin with his fork, ready to dig in the minute the plate arrives at our table. “That’s a good point. All right. If the question arose, would you go on a second date with me?”

“Well, now I feel pressured to say yes just so I can hear the inquiry.”

“You’re going to have to deal with the pressure, sweet cheeks.”

“Fine. Hypothetically, if you were to ask me out on a second date, I would hypothetically, possibly say yes.”

“Great.” He bops his own nose with his fork and then sets it down on the table. “Here goes.” He looks serious; both his hands rest palm down on the table and his shoulders stiffen. Looking me dead in the eyes, he asks, “Bobbies and Rebels are in the World Series, what shirt do you wear?”

“Bobbies obviously.”

He blinks. Sits back. “What?”

“Bobbies for life.”

“But I’m on the Rebels.”

“Yes, but are we dating, are we married? Are we just fooling around? There’s going to have to be a huge commitment on my part in order to put a Rebels shirt on. Sorry.”

“We’re dating.”

“Eh.” I wave my hand.

“Fine. We’re living together.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” I twist a strand of hair in my finger.

“Christ, we’re married.”

“Ugh.” I wince. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think it will ever happen.”

“Not even if we’re married, for fuck’s sake?” he asks, dumbfounded. It’s endearing, especially since he’s pushing his hand through his hair in distress, tousling it.

“Do we have kids?” I ask.

“Six.”

“Six?” Now it’s time for my eyes to pop out of their sockets. “Do you really think I want to birth six children?”

“Hell, no.” He shakes his head. “We adopted six kids from all around the world. We’re going to have the most diverse and loving family you’ll ever see.”

Adopting six kids, now that’s incredibly sweet. Or mad? No, it’s sweet. In fact, it’s extremely rare to meet a man who not only knows he wants to adopt kids, but is willing to look outside of the US, knowing how much he could offer that child. Good God, this man is a unicorn.

“We have the means for it, after all,” he says, continuing. “You’re taking over the city of Chicago, and I’ll be raining home runs on every opposing team. We would be the power couple, the new king and queen of the city. Excuse me, Oprah and Steadman, a new, hip couple is in town. People would wear our faces on their shirts like the royals in England. We’re the next Kate and William, the next Meghan and Harry. People will scream our name and then faint, only for us to give them mouth-to-mouth because even though we’re super famous, we are also humanitarians.”

“Wow.” I sit back in my chair. “That’s quite the picture you paint.” I know what my mom will say about him already. Don’t lose him, Dorothy. He’s gold. Gorgeous and selfless.

“So . . . with all that said, our six children at your side, would you wear a Rebels shirt?”

I take some time to think about it, mulling over the idea of switching to black and red as my team colors. Could I do it?

With the way Jason is smiling at me, hope in his eyes, how could I ever deny him that joy—and I say that as if we’ve been married for ten years.

“I would wear halfsies. Half Bobbies, half Rebels, and that’s the best I can do.”

He lifts his finger to the sky. “I’ll take it.”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“Now that you’re here, please don’t leave.” Tears fall down her cheek. “Please don’t leave, Jason.” Eyes bloodshot, absolute sorrow”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“It’s hard being in this apartment right now with all these athletes. I mean, just look at the way they all grip their beer bottles. By the neck, like they’re choking the bitch for some nectar.”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“Then you talk it through. It’s when she stops wanting to talk that you’ll need to worry.” She pauses, takes a sip of her cocktail. “Trust me.”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup

“I fucking heard you. You touched her collarbone, and you’re acting like you had access to her nipples? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
― Meghan Quinn, The Lineup