Georgia Boys

14. in which i am enthralled

We arrive at my family's bakery not too long after leaving the skate park.

It's absolutely pouring outside, and I keep turning on the windshield wipers to clear the rain droplets away. Quincy's been humming nonstop since we left the park and I mentally chastise myself for not yet having told him to shut up. 

Pulling into a slot in front of the bakery, I slide out of the car. I'm nearly drenched, and Quincy shuts the passenger's door and climbs out from his side. I'm covering my hair with my flannel, like that will do me any good and Quincy hasn't even bothered covering his own hair and is instead laughing with glee. 

He runs into the bakery and I speed walk after him, not at all as impressed with the rain as he is. 

Once inside, I lock the door behind me. My parents already flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and given the awful weather and the time, I decide to keep it that way. Regardless, I'm still going to have to officially close shop, meaning I have orders to put together for tomorrow, floors to mop and ingredients to organize. 

There's no point in wearing my flannel again as it's already drenched, so I toss it onto the back of a chair to let it dry, and drag my damp hands across my white tank top. My eyes catch onto Quincy who is settled down onto the counter, watching me shamelessly as he attempts to squeeze the dampness out of his t-shirt. 

"It'll probably take an hour to close shop, and then we can head over to my place." My house isn't too far away from the bakery, however it is a twenty minute drive and certainly not a walkable distance in these conditions. 

"Sounds good," Quincy says. His clothes are all damp which has his t-shirt at least, clinging to his body. I can't be much better off, and this is confirmed when Quincy says, "your tank's kind of transparent."

I look down, and sure enough, the tank isn't completely dry and is transparent anywhere the rain touched. "Shit," I say. Quincy grins. 

His grin suddenly has my gaze flitting away. "Well I'll clean up the kitchen in the meantime." I give him a vague gesture, "you can just sit there or whatever." I can feel his amused gaze on me.

"You don't need help?" I can sense his eyebrows raised without having to look at him. I make the mistake of glancing up at him for half a second, and his irises are massive. He's smiling a bit and he may as well just get rid of that t-shirt, because the rain has it clinging to him like skin would. 

And then it hits me that this was a very bad idea. I clearly didn't think this through. Because I'm suddenly reminded of the dream I had about Quincy, of the focus I had on him in the skate park, of glancing away and holding gazes and heat rising to my face. 

I glance away from him and murmur some sort of incoherent response before heading into the kitchen. He keeps his gaze on me from where he sits on the counter and I blatantly ignore it. I get to washing dishes. The sink is filled with containers and hand mixers and rolling pins. It doesn't take too long to finish the dishes, and soon enough, the dry rack is piled high with dishes. 

"Silas."

Quincy's speaking to me. 

"Yeah?" I grab the mop. 

"Silas."

"Yeah?" I ask again.

"You're acting weird."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about." The mop flies along the tiles and I clean the length of the room before Quincy speaks again. 

Except this time, he's closer to me. I was so hellbent on ignoring him the first time, that I hadn't noticed when he hopped off the counter and made his way over to where I stood, on a dryer portion of the floor that I had mopped earlier.