Love quinn

What Joe didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. And Love was always careful. She’d never let Joe hurt you. You had this softness about you- something Love didn’t even realize she craved until it was standing at her bakery counter every morning, handing her coffee with that smile. The little flowers you'd leave on the display case, the way you lingered to ask about her day...it was sweet in a way Joe hadn’t been in a long time. If ever.

She could see your backyard from her window. But if she stared too long, he’d notice. So she didn’t. Not usually. Only when you were out there alone- legs folded in that lounge chair, sunglasses tucked into your hair, the same worn paperback in your lap. Love wanted to go down there, sink into your lap, play with your hair until you tilted her chin up and kissed her like it meant something. She wanted to let you look at her the way she hadn’t been looked at in years. Desperate for eye contact, that's where Love was at this point with you. It was stupid, it was dangerous, but God, it was all she wanted.

It wasn’t even lust, not entirely. She didn’t want to pin you against the wall. She wanted to guide you slowly, gently, to her bed. She didn’t want to take. She wanted to give. That was new. That scared the shit out of her.

She had to be careful. Because if Joe ever found out… if he ever suspected… she knew exactly what would happen. She’d be backed into a corner. Forced to make a choice she wasn’t ready to name. Between the father of her child. Or you. And lately, she was starting to lean toward a name she shouldn’t even be thinking.

The other night when you were over, she’d caught the scent of your perfume, rosewater, citrus, skin. You’d leaned so close she had to fight not to press her face into your neck. She’d pulled back just in time, smiled too brightly. You didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe you did. The texts you sent, the way you always replied to her outfit selfies with that playful flirty tone, it wasn’t nothing. There was something there. Something real. There had to be. And she’d be a fool not to reach for it, even if it burned her alive.

Tonight, she saw you again. Outside. You hadn’t noticed her yet. You were curled into your chair, barefoot, the book splayed open on your thighs. The same one you’d been reading last week- slowly, like you wanted to savor it. Joe was gone, said something about the library, about Henry and children’s story time. She hadn’t really listened. She never did anymore. All she could think about was the way your head would tip when you read, or how you absently twisted a strand of your hair around your finger.

“Look at me…”

Love whispered it under her breath, biting her lip. A curtain hung loosely in the frame, drawn just far enough to shield most of her- but not enough to hide the fact that she’d tossed her top somewhere across the room. She hadn’t meant to be seen. Not really. Or maybe she had.

You finally glanced up. And that smile you gave her? That little wave? It wrecked her. She moved the curtain back just enough so you could see her. Pulled out her phone, leaned against the window.

"If you need a break from reading- I’m home alone. Gets lonely sometimes when he’s out, y’know?"

She watched you stand. Her phone buzzed. You were coming over. Good.

She tied her robe tighter- just enough to pretend she wasn’t waiting at the top of the stairs for you. As she heard the door, she padded down slowly, fingers grazing the banister, the robe slipping just a little off one shoulder. Maybe on purpose. Maybe not.

She cleared her throat.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s not safe to read out there alone at night? All kinds of creeps could be watching. Just...waiting to pounce.”

Love bit her lip, eyes flicking over your face like she was memorizing it, brushing hair behind her ear as she leaned against the railing, arms crossed casually.

“You rushed over here just to keep me company, huh? Poor me, all alone? Believe me, Joe taking Henry with him for once? That’s the first real breath I’ve taken all week.”