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The Setup by Meghan Quinn

The Setup by Meghan Quinn

Author:Meghan Quinn [Quinn, Meghan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-09T18:30:00+00:00


“So, what’s going on with you and Lincoln?”

“Wow.” I check my phone for the time. “I’m shocked it took you this long to ask,” I say, reaching for my water while Scarlett next to me does the same.

I dragged Scarlett along with me to dinner with my mom for two reasons. One, her parents live in Idaho so they couldn’t make it to the game and two, I was hoping that my mom wouldn’t ask about Lincoln with Scarlett present.

Man, did I underestimate her.

“I waited until we ordered our food, thought that would be respectful enough. By the way, cute place. Why haven’t we been here before?” my mom asks, looking around the Italian restaurant Lincoln brings me to for calzones.

“Lincoln introduced it to us,” Scarlett says unapologetically as she sips her water.

I think we can all agree bringing along the best friend was a bad idea.

“Oh, is that right?” My mom taps her finger on the table. “Do you care to explain what’s happening? Last time I talked to you on the phone about Lincoln, you said you haven’t seen him around campus. Then I hear from Laura, while doing her hair, that you guys are partners in a class. That came as quite the shock, but I let the slip-up on your end—forgetting to tell me—slide, because I figured you’d eventually talk to me. But then I see you guys humping in the stands—”

“We were not humping, Mom. Jesus. He was just congratulating me.”

“Your legs were wrapped around his waist.”

Scarlett picks up a piece of fresh bread from the table and says, “That’s damning evidence.”

“Will you shut up?” I say, “Unless you want me to start talking about Hutton.”

“Hutton and I are way too complicated to unravel over a cozy dinner. That will take weeks,” Scarlett answers, literally giving zero fucks.

Seriously, bringing her was a terrible idea.

“Well . . .” my mom pushes, causing me to lean back in the dark red leather booth, feeling defeated. And to think I’d felt such a high an hour ago.

“Whatever I say you’re not going to believe.”

“Try me,” she says, folding her hands together as if she’s in a boardroom, questioning one of her employees.

“Fine, we’re just friends.”

My mom laughs out loud and shakes her head. “Oh, Indie.”

“See, I told you, you weren’t going to believe me.”

“That was not a just friends hug. Just friends hug from the side. They don’t leap into each other’s arms and press pelvises together.”

There was no pelvis pressing, at least no intentional pelvis pressing. Believe me, I’ve thought about it.

Chiming in, Scarlett says, “For what it’s worth, Mrs. Mayhem, whenever I ask her what’s going on with Lincoln, the response from both of them is always that they’re friends. I just think they’re close friends.”

Okay, maybe bringing Scarlett wasn’t that bad of an idea.

“I think they’re bordering the line of intimacy though. They totally want to bone, the air screams it whenever they’re around each other,” Scarlett adds.

Scratch that, it was a bad idea.

“We are not intimate.



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