Stacie and I walked out to the car port arm in arm. We giggled at a few of the passerby-ers but mostly rattled on about all the latest news. I felt content. Would I ever forget meeting Quinn on the plane? Hopefully never, but today was a new day and he wasn’t a part of it. It was just Stacie and I and the beautiful city of Paris.
I plunked my suitcase in the grungy, packed trunk of her Green Machine car. As I slammed down the hood, Quinn’s presence startled me.
“Sorry for startling you again.”
“Oh no. I’m fine.” I lied as I scrambled to slow my frantic heart.
Stacie walked up behind me for curiousity or support.
Quinn offered his hand. “Hello, my name is Quinn Fowler.”
She quickly shook his, being wary of him. “Stacie.”
