Your voice even gets different. I think of it as your fuck me now voice.”
I snickered. “Nice. Accurate, though, I guess. But I’m not copping to the hair twirling.”
She ignored that. “But with Tuck, it’s like he doesn’t exist. Like he’s just empty space. You look right through him.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t treat him any differently than I do Nate.”
“Now who’s being silly?” Quinn hugged her knees to her chest. “You are so nice to Nate. You try not to make him feel uncomfortable, even when you don’t care if the rest of us are. I’ve noticed that you even tame down your sex talk when Nate’s in the room.”
She wasn’t wrong. There was something about Nate Wellman that gentled my need to shock. Maybe it was that no matter how appalling he found my behavior, he never judged me or treated me differently. He offered me the same nonchalant tolerance that he did Gia, and because of that, I found that I almost wanted to be more like the girl he seemed to see in me.
“Still.” I turned back to face my laptop screen, trying to focus on the paper I had to write. “Why in the hell would I have anything against Eli Tucker?”
“You did say you met him before,” Quinn pointed out. “The first day, when Nate told us he was his roommate. You said you’d met him a long time ago.”
“Did I?” I leaned forward, pretending to re-read the paragraph I’d just typed. “It was just in passing—meeting him, I mean. I saw him play football once. It’s not like I knew him or anything.”
“Hmmm.” Quinn wasn’t going to give this up. “The way you treat him says different. You remind me of the way girls used to act around boys in second grade.” She paused. “When they liked those boys, that is.”
“Oh, please.” I stared at the computer, even though I wasn’t really seeing the words. “I told you that I don’t even know him. I promise that I’m not nursing some secret crush on him. It’s just . . .” I shrugged. “He’s Nate’s friend. I don’t need to get cozy with him. I have plenty of guys who I’d rather spend my time with.”
“Yeah, I’m well aware of that.” Quinn’s voice was wry. I heard her quiet sigh before she spoke again, her words tentative this time. “Zelda, it’s not . . . I mean, I know it isn’t this. I know you’re not that way. But the fact that Tuck’s in a wheelchair—that’s not why you treat him differently, is it?”
I swiveled to gape at her now, disbelief making my mouth drop open. “Of course not. I never even—no.” I shook my head. “Do you really think I’m that kind of person?”
“No, I don’t.” She had the good grace to look miserable and embarrassed. “I guess I’m just looking for any possible reason you two don’t mesh. Or why you totally ignore each other.”
“Quinn, doll.” I sat down next to her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “You’re a sweetie, and I know you mean well. You want to see the best in everyone. That’s awesome. But sometimes, people just don’t . . .” I searched for the right word. “Click. Some of us just don’t click. I’ll be honest, when I first met you and Gia, I didn’t think I’d like Gia. But it turns out we have a lot in common, and now we’re friends. I like Nate, too. So let’s be glad that out of the three people you’ve introduced me to, I get along with two of them . . . and just let the Tuck thing go.”
“I don’t expect you to be best friends with all my friends.” She crossed her arms. “I just think you two have a weird vibe.” She shrugged. “But if you tell me it’s nothing, I’ll have to believe you, I guess.”
“Yep, you do.” I stood up, patting her on the head, even though I knew she hated when I did that. “Now I’ve got to concentrate on writing this paper. However, I don’t think I told you that earlier today, I picked up a package from Grammy.” Bending over, I pulled a brown cardboard box from beneath my bed. “And I might be willing to share.”
Quinn’s eyes lit up. “Don’t tell me Grammy sent chocolate chip cookies.”
“She totally did.” I lifted the lid and offered her the box. “Help yourself.”
“Oh, my God,” Quinn moaned, biting