Where We Belong (A Touch of Fate #1)(45)

I don't comment on the rain check because, at this point, I'm not really sure how I want to respond.

"What's wrong? You look like someone kicked your puppy." Quinn's voice pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn my tear-streaked face to hers.

"He canceled."

"What?" She rips my phone out of my hand and reads the text. "Harley, he got called in to work."

"I know," I nod.

"Then why are you crying? He has a good reason to cancel."

I shove the heels of my hands into my eyes and groan. "I know! I think I'm getting ready to start my period or something."

"Period," she says, putting her car in reverse and backing out of my driveway. "Girl, with all the tears you've shed, it's more like an exclamation point!"

I shove her shoulder, thankful that she can always make me laugh. "Where are we going?"

She glances in my direction, her eyes full of mischief. "I'm not going to let you sit at home tonight and dwell on what happened. What kind of friend would it make me if I let you do that? I'm taking you to get a mani-pedi, and then we're going to go shopping, buy smokin' hot outfits, and hit up the town!"

My phone vibrates in my hand again and I look down.

Tyson: I'm sorry, Harley.

What's he sorry for, canceling on me or rejecting me?

Me: Me too.

Miley Cyrus' Wrecking Ball filters through the speakers—how fitting, I think to myself—and my eyes close as her sultry voice fills the air.

"I love you, Quinn." I don't open my eyes to look at her, but I know that she’s looking at me. I can feel the weight of her stare.

"Of course you do. What's not to love?" Yup, that's Quinn. A laugh rips from my throat and I can practically hear her smile.



"NOPE," I SHAKE MY head vehemently, "I can't."

Her eyes narrow and she slides the shot glass in front of me. "You can and you will."

I take the shot because there really is no point in arguing with Quinn. When she has her mind made up, there is no way she's going to change it.

We enjoyed our day at the nail salon and had a blast shopping. It's been a long time since I've felt my age and today I felt young and carefree. Quinn looks smokin' hot in a denim shirtdress that she paired with leopard-print heels. Me, I'm not so confident with my wardrobe, but I did manage to find an awesome pair of white lace shorts that I paired with a gauzy, pale pink top and nude heels. All in all, I was pretty damn pleased with how we looked when we walked out the door two hours ago.

Our intention was to hit up a few local bars, have fun, and enjoy the rare chance of getting to hang out. We walked into the first bar and never even made it to a table before Quinn and I made the joint decision that it just wasn't going to cut it. I put a call in to Levi and he hooked us up with a table in the VIP section at Blue.

Don't get me wrong. Quinn and I have no problem hanging out at our old stomping grounds. But tonight we preferred to be ogled by thirty-something businessmen and not twenty-something boys, who couldn't deliver an orgasm if it was handed to them on a silver platter.

"Alright. Check out the guy at three o'clock." I chuckle at her attempt to be stealthy. Leaning back in my seat, I cock my head to the left. Well, hello there! Mr. Three O'clock is tall, dark, and handsome, and has a set of broad shoulders that would put any linebacker to shame.

"Nope." Picking up my empty glass, I wave it at the bartender, Ryan, signaling for another drink. He tilts his chin in acknowledgment and I turn to Quinn, who is staring at me like I've grown a third head.

"What?" I ask.

"What do you mean, nope? He—" she says, waving her hand dramatically at Mr. Three O'clock, "—is not a 'nope' kind of guy."

"Quinn, I told you, I'm not going to go hit on some guy because Tyson rejected me last night."

"Why not?" she whines. "He could be the one."

"Trust me, he is not the one," I scoff as Ryan puts my drink on the table.

"How do you know? You won't even go talk to him. Is this because you haven't been on a date in four years? Because if that's the reason, then I promise you, it's like riding a bike!"

"I've been on dates," I pout.

"Um...Harley, that was called f*cking, not dating." She lifts her glass of dark liquor and takes a sip.

"Jesus, Quinn, why do you have to be so crude? Did you see the guy next to Mr. Three O'clock?" I ask, diverting the conversation away from my lack of dating skills.

"Mmmm." A low rumble rolls from Quinn's throat and she uncrosses her legs and stands, adjusting the hem of her dress.

"What are you doing?" I whisper hiss.

"I'm going to talk to the Adonis." She winks and then spins on her five-inch heels and walks away. I don't know how in the hell she walks in those things. My heels are three inches at best, and usually I just wear kitten heels. If I put those spikes on that she wears, I'd bite the dust.

Quinn is smooth and graceful as she glides across the floor, drawing the attention of every man in the room. Her blond hair is cut in a long stack, starting at the base of her hairline and tapering down past her chin. The inside layer of her hair is black and pops under the platinum blonde top layer. It's sassy and sexy, just like Quinn. Her body is slammin' and her legs go on for miles. I'm completely jealous. No really, I am! My once perky breasts now hang, thanks to Max's constant appetite as a baby, and the stretch marks on my stomach are distorted in an unattractive way. Sure, I can hide all of that with a good push-up bra and a pair of Spanx, but eventually those have to come off!