Restorations

  “Just do it.”

  She huffs, but closes her eyes, and I do the same, leaning forward slowly until my nose brushes hers. My heart is racing, and I’m convinced it’s going to jump out of my mouth and run the hell away from this insane situation, but when Quinn puffs out a frustrated breath and is about to bitch at me again for being a wuss, I mash my lips against her full ones.

  She lets out a surprised yelp because the pressure was far too much and my inexperience is showing. But as I pull back, she presses forward, her soft lips fusing with mine, and her arms lacing around my neck.

  Her lips part only slightly, and I grow bolder using my tongue to explore her mouth. It’s sloppy, but something in that kiss gives me something I’ve never had.

  Hope.

  Somehow kissing Quinn makes me feel as if someday we might be doing this not in a dingy-ass apartment with her having a black eye and my mom fucking some random guy for drugs. That maybe, just maybe we can get through this hell together. Possibly having this without all of that.

  We pull away, our eyes still clouded with lust and confusion, and my hand sweeps over her cheek as I hold it there. “Five years is nothing as long as we stick together.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. I’ll always be here for you, Quinn. For whatever you need. Whenever you need it.”

  She smiles, and her forehead meets mine. “I promise you the same. Whatever and whenever.”

  I tuck her in my arms and give her my phone and one earbud as I tuck the other in my own ear, letting her browse through songs I’ve downloaded using one of the neighbors’ Wi-Fi because fuck paying the bill for internet too. Right, Mom?”

  I close my eyes as Quinn selects a Janis Joplin playlist and settles into my arms.

  As long as I have Quinn, I’ll be okay.

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