Learning You

QUINN

The hum of the curling iron is the only sound breaking the dead silence of my Seattle apartment. It is 3:00 AM. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, watching the tight coils of hair drop onto my shoulders before applying a quick touch of makeup. I am running on barely two hours of sleep, my mind spinning with too much excitement to actually rest. Honestly, it is always like this whenever a major trip is around the corner.

I take a step back to check my outfit, completely satisfied with how it all comes together. I am wearing a black satin halterneck top paired with dark blue wide-leg pants that drape perfectly over a pair of three-and-a-half-inch black heels. I know, I know—this is an island getaway, and any normal person would choose sneakers, a comfy shirt, and some practical flats for a long haul like this. But I am hopelessly addicted to dressing up, and my feet are practically shaped like heels at this point anyway. Even if walking in these is going to torture my feet later on, I am fully prepared to suffer the consequences just to serve this look. I grab my black bag, checking my reflection one last time. It is definitely a bit much for a bus ride, but it makes me feel ready for the trip.

For the past few days, the group chat on my phone has been buzzing non-stop with logistics about our upcoming trip to Orcas Island. I am not exactly a stranger to this tight-knit circle anymore. I am now deeply embedded in their daily chat logs, brought in by my cousin Raven, who loves to hype me up to everyone as their sharp-tongued, undisputed Queen. I am the oldest of the batch, the mature anchor to their chaotic, beautiful energy.

Through the screen, I already feel like I know them all. I know Dwight, Raven’s childhood friend who prefers classic menswear but carries the absolute best dramatic energy, and I know Oliver, the distinctly masculine gay guy who rounds out their core group. We talk constantly online, and I actually hang out and go on a few nights out with Dwight and Oliver whenever they visit the city. They aren’t new faces to me at all. The only person in that entire chat I have never seen or met in person is Darcy. This trip is the absolute first time he and I are going to face each other.

This outing actually comes at the perfect time because my long-term relationship is freshly over. Truth be told, we are already out of love long before the official split, so the breakup is just a formality. There is no drama or heartbreak hanging over me at all. My slate is completely clean, and I am just ready to relax.

The plan for the morning requires a bit of a haul. Darcy and I are the only ones currently living in Seattle. The rest of the crew—Raven, our cousin Dahlia, Dwight, and Oliver—are all currently hanging out back home in Anacortes. Because Darcy and I share the same city, our plan is to meet at the Seattle terminal first to catch the early morning line up north. The journey typically involves traveling from Seattle to Mount Vernon and then transferring to another bus that goes to Anacortes, making the total travel time around three hours and forty-four minutes. It is a long trek before we even reach the San Juan Island ferry, but knowing how chaotic our chat logs get, I know the road won’t feel long at all.

Speaking of Darcy, I know his face only through a handful of heavily low-profile, mysterious Instagram posts I unashamedly stalk. He is a masculine bisexual guy, deeply embedded in the circle, but his digital footprint is nearly non-existent. The photos are blurry, yet even through the pixelated screen, I can tell he possesses a striking, clean-cut aesthetic.

At 4:45 AM, the chilly Washington morning air bites at my skin as I haul my heavy travel bags through the sliding doors of the bus terminal. The station is mostly empty, cast in a bleak, fluorescent glow.

Then, I see him.

Sitting near the loading bay is a guy who immediately commands the empty space around him. He is wearing a crisp, white three-quarter-sleeved button-down, sharp tailored pants, and immaculate shoes. He has a stark, clean look that instantly stands out against the grimy terminal seats. As our eyes lock, his forehead crinkles slightly in brief confusion, trying to match my face to the pictures Raven sends him. Then, a massive, brilliant smile breaks across his face.

He stands up. He is incredibly tall. He walks straight toward me with an easy, confident stride that makes my breath catch in my throat.

“Hi, Quinn,” he says. His voice is a rich, grounding baritone.

“Hello,” I manage to reply, my voice steady despite the sudden, violent racing of my pulse.

We stand there for a fraction of a second, completely suspended in time, both of us smiling like idiots. It is an immediate, consuming whiplash of attraction—love at first sight, pure and terrifying. His cologne hits me next; a deep, masculine, and sophisticated scent that completely fills my lungs. Before I can even process the intensity of the moment, Darcy’s hands are already gently but firmly sliding the heavy straps of my travel bag away from my shoulders. He takes every single piece of my luggage, lifting them effortlessly as if they weigh nothing at all.

“Let’s sit down,” he murmurs, gesturing toward the waiting shed.

We walk over and take our seats. I look at him, trying to ground myself. “Have you been here long? You’re way too early. I literally told you in the group chat that you didn’t have to leave your place until like 4:30.”

Darcy sets the bags down and leans back, his expression relaxed and entirely content. “It’s fine. Honestly, I prefer being the one who waits. Gives me some time to just think and clear my head.” He turns his face toward me, his dark eyes entirely focused. “Have you eaten yet? Do you want some noodles? I think that stall over there is open.”

“Oh, I actually ate before leaving the house,” I reply, my cheeks warm under his gaze. “What about you? Did you eat?”

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks,” he says, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He is surprisingly talkative, his posture open and completely inviting. “I’m just glad I got out of the house without my dad grilling me this morning. Usually, whenever I go on a trip, he puts me through this whole interrogation like I’m still a kid.”

I listen to him speak, a profound, unprompted wave of comfort washing over me. Hearing him talk about his family with so much casual fondness makes my heart ache in the best way possible. There is a deep goodness to him that is instantly visible.

I lean in slightly, the sharp wit of my writer’s brain taking over before my filter can stop it. “You’re actually really tall in person. You know, you, Raven, Dwight, and Oliver... you guys look so incredibly manly, but you’re all into guys too.” I look him dead in the eye, my voice dropping to a softer tone. “And wow, you are insanely handsome in person.”

Darcy freezes for a split second. The absolute confidence in his eyes wavers, replaced by a sudden, intense flash of vulnerability. He looks at me, his gaze locked onto my lips before he quickly shifts his eyes away, his cheeks flushing under the terminal lights. A small, flustered smile breaks on his face. I let out a soft laugh, shifting my own gaze toward the empty bus bays to give him a moment to breathe. The tension between us is so thick it is practically a living thing.

“I’m just going to withdraw some cash at the ATM over there real quick,” I say, breaking the silence as I stand up.

Darcy immediately moves to stand up with me. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, it’s fine, really!” I say, waving my hand. “I can handle it, it’ll just take a second.”

He hesitates, then nods, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Alright, cool. I’ll just stay here and keep an eye on our bags then.” He looks around the empty bay, a smirk playing on his lips. “Anyway, the bus won’t leave us. Mainly because it already did.”

My eyes go wide. A sudden panic hits my chest. “Wait, are you serious?! Oh my god, I am so sorry! So the first bus leaves while you are already waiting here?”

Darcy just laughs, the sound rich and completely reassuring. He shrugs, entirely unbothered by my lateness. “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s really no big deal. There’s another bus coming at 5:30 AM anyway.”

A massive wave of guilt hits my conscience. He gets here at 4:00 AM, and I roll in at 4:45 AM, causing us to miss the initial transfer. Yet, as he stands there, hands casually in his pockets, his smile is so incredibly warm that the guilt instantly melts into pure infatuation. I walk away to the ATM, my mind spinning. I have a massive, terrifying crush on this guy, I admit to myself. But I need to set it aside. We are here as friends. I am the older Queen of the group. Keep it together, Quinn!

When I return, his brilliant smile is already waiting for me across the terminal. We fall back into our seats and the conversation restarts effortlessly. All the initial awkwardness evaporates into loud, echoing laughter. We are so intensely comfortable with each other that within ten minutes, I am already casually swatting his arm every time he drops one of his sharp, perfectly timed jokes.

Finally, a massive commuter bus rolls into the loading bay. I jump up instantly, desperate to redeem myself after missing the first one. “Hey, I think that’s us right there!” I yell, waving him over. “Come on, let’s go!”

Darcy looks at the bus, this huge look of hesitation washing over his face. But since I am already marching toward the doors, he does not say a word. He just grins, picks up my heavy-ass travel bags without a single complaint, and follows me right up the steps.

We step into the narrow aisle of the bus, and a literal nightmare comedy scene greets us. The bus conductor is right in the middle of changing his clothes—completely bare-chested and half-dressed.

“Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath, my entire face turning bright red as I do a sharp U-turn and bolt right back down the stairs.

The second our feet hit the concrete outside, Darcy just loses it. He bursts into this loud, uncontainable fit of laughter, bending completely over and shaking his head as he drops the bags back onto the pavement.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! I swear I think that’s our bus!” I hide my face in my hands, completely mortified. “My bad, I am totally screwing up today!”

Darcy’s laughter isn’t mocking at all. It is actually incredibly sweet, just full of genuine amusement and warmth. “Hey, it’s totally fine, Quinn,” he gases out between giggles, literally wiping a tear from his eye. Ten minutes later, the actual conductor gives the signal that the right bus is finally ready for boarding. We share one last laughing glance before heading up the steps for real. Darcy handles the bags with his usual quiet, effortless grace, tossing them into the overhead racks before looking down at me.

“Where do you wanna sit?” he asks softly. “Window or aisle?”

My heart does a violent flip. It is such a simple, casual question, but the sheer sincerity in his voice just kills me. He isn’t doing it out of some forced politeness; he genuinely cares about what I prefer.

“I’ll take the window seat,” I say, sliding into the row. Then, I look up at his towering frame. “What about you? Are you sure you won’t get motion sick back here? Do you need the window seat instead?”

Darcy slides into the row right next to me, his broad shoulder pressing warmly against mine in the cramped space. He turns his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a gaze so incredibly heavy it feels like gravity itself.

“Honestly, I could watch you sleep for two hours straight,” Darcy whispers, his voice smooth, completely serious, and dripping with charm, “and I still wouldn’t get sick.”

My jaw literally drops, my face burning as a breathless laugh escapes my lips. I snap my face toward the cold glass of the window, completely obliterated by how effortless his charm is. I count to three in my head, desperately trying to gather the shattered pieces of my confidence. I am the undisputed Queen of our group chat, for God’s sake. I do not just sit here and take a hit without striking back.

I slowly turn my head back toward him, a playful, challenging smirk fighting its way onto my lips. “Fine then, I’m going to sleep,” I challenge, leaning in just an inch closer to dare him. “Don’t you dare blink. If you actually pull it off, I’ll give you a reward.”

Darcy’s eyebrows shoot up, his dark eyes instantly flashing with amusement at my sudden boldness. “Oh yeah? What kind of reward?” he asks, his baritone voice dropping into a low, curious rumble.

“I’ll find you a guy,” I fire back smoothly, waving my hand as if presenting a grand prize. “A boyfriend, or whatever. I’ll set you up with someone really good.”

Darcy lets out a soft, melodic laugh, the sound vibrating through the small space between our seats. He doesn’t look away. Instead, his gaze intensifies, his eyes locking onto mine with a look that makes my stomach do a complete backflip. “No way,” he murmurs, his voice entirely steady. “I want something else.”

My forehead crinkles in brief confusion, my writer’s brain momentarily short-circuiting at his refusal. “Seriously? You? Turning down hot, masculine guys?”

As the words leave my mouth, a strange, unprompted wave of self-awareness hits me. I honestly cannot understand myself right now. Even as I casually joke about setting him up with someone else, there is a weird, stubborn part of me that is secretly thrilled. Deep down, I realize I just want to keep teasing him. I want to keep pushing his buttons because, honestly, I want to hear him say that he doesn’t want a guy. I want him to reject the idea entirely.

Darcy leans back slightly against the headrest, his expression softening as he considers his words. “I’m not exactly crazy about guys like that...” he explains softly, his tone completely honest. “I mean, I’m bisexual, but you know... that’s definitely not something I’d ask for if I get to choose my reward.”

A quiet “wow” echoes in my mind, though I keep my outward expression perfectly guarded and cool so I don’t look overly affected. I cross my arms, tilting my head to look at him. “So, what’s the reward then?”

The bus engine roars to life, vibrating beneath our feet as the vehicle finally rolls out of the Seattle terminal bay. The dim fluorescent lights of the station fade away, replaced by the early morning shadows of the highway.

Darcy shifts in his seat, turning his entire body to face me. He looks at me, his expression incredibly calm and relaxed, his voice completely natural. “Nothing. There is really no reward. I just want to watch you sleep.”

My chest tightens at his words. It feels completely weird to hear him say that, but despite the oddness, a part of me finds it incredibly cute. I try to analyze my own reaction, wondering why a simple, unbothered statement like that can affect me this much when I am clearly just joking around. A soft laugh escapes my lips, breaking the brief spell between us.

“Don’t worry,” I say, looking at the blurring city lights outside. “I know we are not actually going to sleep anyway. We are just going to talk the whole time.”

Darcy smiles, leaning back comfortably against his seat as he nods. “Yeah,” he agrees softly, his eyes reflecting the early morning shadows. “We definitely are.”