Juked
That's not what Quincy is about, and I've been too busy enjoying her to miss anything else.
I knock on the door, and a few seconds later, it flies open. Quincy stands there, flushed like she just ran across the room. She's wearing short black shorts and a red Mutiny T-shirt. Her long hair is down around her shoulders and looks soft, like she just finished blow-drying it and didn't put any hair spray or gel in it yet. There's no makeup on her face.
She's beautiful.
"Sorry," she says as she ushers me in. "I finally got Chance to sleep, and I was afraid if you knocked again he'd wake up."
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