Inevitably Yours
Chapter 87

QUINN

“As long as you guys learn your music on time, I have no reason to complain or schedule extra practices. So please, let’s do that,” I instructed my section.

“What the blue one said,” Dylan added. I rolled my eyes.

Everyone ambled away with their instruments, ready for their breaks. Carl came over to Dylan and me. “Why do you guys have like two freshmen?” he complained.

“Because our instruments are heavy,” Dylan pointed out.

“I scare them away. Blue hair, large sax. It just happens,” I joked. We all planted ourselves in the grass, and I finally unhooked my sax from its harness after three hours of marching practice.

“My freshmen are all stupid, and I swear they don’t know left from right,” he complained, falling back into the grass.

“I just want you to remember you had private lessons leading into your first season,” I said. Carl just raised a middle finger at me, and we all laughed. My phone dinged, and I opened it to a picture of M and Nic looking sweaty and tired. They had been training together a lot in the past couple of months.

I held up my phone and snapped a picture of me, Carl, and Dylan, sending it back with a still at practice message.

“So, school starts next week, and we all have to vote on the first senior dinner spot,” Dylan said.

“I think someone threw out the hotdog stand,” Carl said. “Wish we could go out to the Wild Diner. That place is great, but travel into Wild Paws is restricted.”

“Since when?” I had no interest in going to Wild Paws other than seeing Christy. I’d been taking every possible shift at work to stay busy all summer that I hadn’t made much time for her.

“Like the end of last year,” Dylan said. “Right around the time he basically banned us from going to college.”

“I heard he won’t even meet with the principal and counselors about it,” Carl said. I laid back in the grass. So, I wasn’t the only one suffering right now.

–

“Happy Birthday, Bluetiful,” Michael’s sweet voice sounded through the phone.

“Morning,” I mumbled. The football game had gone late last night; if anyone else were calling, I would have ignored it.

“Go check the porch,” he said. I bolted upright. Was this about to be the best birthday of my whole life? I hastily pulled a hoodie on over my tank top and ran downstairs. Not how I imagined seeing M again, but oh well. My dad was having coffee in the kitchen. I threw the door open, hoping to see him.

On the porch sat a gorgeous vase of flowers. Disappointment tugged at me, but I still loved the flowers. I grabbed them up. “They’re beautiful, thank you,” I told Michael.

“They don’t compare to you, but I couldn’t not send you something,” he said.

I headed up to my room, flowers in hand. “I don’t know; last year is hard to top,” I laughed.

“Oh, if you don’t think I don’t have more planned today, you are very mistaken, ma’am,” he chuckled. Goddess, I loved his laugh. I set the flowers on my desk and fell back into bed.

“I mean, that singlet was pretty hard to beat,” I teased.

“Is that a challenge?” he said with a low growl.

I giggled. “Maybe. Are you up to it?”

“Oh, baby, I’m always up for a challenge,” he said.

–

Carl and I sat at the kitchen table, comparing homework. We both took all the more challenging classes in the fall semester, so our spring semester was light, and we could focus on AP testing and graduation. I had three tests for the end of the year, while he had two.

My mom came in with pizzas in her hand. “Hungry?” she asked us.

“Starving,” Carl smiled.

“Well, get over here and make some plates,” my mom told us. Carl and I both got our plates while my mom called my brother down. We all sat around the table and started eating.

“So, Mrs. Samuels, are you guys coming on Friday night?” Carl asked.

“No, stop!” I immediately linked him while shooting him a look.

“What is Friday?” my mom asked, looking between us.

“Senior Night for band?” Carl said, confused.

“I didn’t tell them!” I linked him.

“Senior Night?” my mom questioned. “I didn’t know it was Senior Night.”

“It’s not a big deal,” I said quickly. My mom had her work schedule weeks in advance. When I found out the day, I checked, and she was already supposed to work. Instead of making her feel bad about it, I just didn’t tell my parents.

“No, it is!” my mom said, getting up from the table. She walked over to the fridge and frowned at the calendar. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Q? I could have switched with someone.”

“Because you still would have ended up at work,” Sapphire said rhetorically.

“It’s not a big deal, Mom. They just recognize us for surviving to our fourth year of torment,” I told her.

“Why wouldn’t you tell your parents?” Carl linked me.

“Doesn’t matter now!” I replied.

“I’ll talk to your dad. We should be there. Maybe I can use a vacation day or some sick time. We wouldn’t miss something so important,” she said.

“Uh, okay,” I said, returning to my dinner. I didn’t want to tell her that after three years, I held them to no amount of expectation for showing up. Kent decided to join band the previous year, and they managed to attend all his concerts. I knew my parents loved me, but I had long since accepted a need for independence and self-reliance.

“The game starts at seven, and then the Senior Night program is during halftime,” Carl went on. I just played with pepperoni on my pizza.

“Should we wear something special?” my mom asked.

“Just school colors,” Carl said. “We get special pins for you guys this week.”

“I’m glad someone said something,” my mom said pointedly.

–

“Next, we have Miss Quinn Samuels and her parents, Amelia and James,” the announcer called. “One of our most involved music students. Miss Samuels is a four-year member of our award-winning marching band, a four-year member of the concert band, and a woodwind soloist in our jazz band, all while maintaining her spot among the top ten percent of her class. Miss Samuels is the co-section leader for the second year of the booming bass section, responsible for much of that dancing you all enjoy so much from our talented band!”

The announcer made me sound much more impressive than I was, but I guess that was their job. Last week, the director gave us a checklist to mark off everything we participated in until now. My parents walked on either side of me as we approached the director. He shook my dad’s hand, we posed for a photo, then I led us to my spot as they called the next person. Carl winked next to us.

“See Q, it all worked out,” he linked.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how much too little too late applies here,” I shot back.

“Your mom made it happen. Can’t you take the small win?” he tried.

“I guess. They just aren’t the ones I want here tonight,” I told him.

The next senior was called, his mate coming along with his parents. I watched them sadly, wishing I had mine. I wanted to see Michael again so I would know; he had to be my mate. Anything less would be cruel.

“Give it time, Q,” Carl said. “Real life isn’t like your books.”

“Yea, well, how am I supposed to replace a mate when we can’t escape here?” I posed to him. That made him silent.

I knew real life wasn’t like a book; no one needed to tell me that. If my life was a book, it would be a sad, pitiful one. I couldn’t even read books anymore because it all made me sad thinking about M. Michael was my fairy tale ending, my fated mate, but as the days went on, I worried we really wouldn’t even be together.

“Patience,” Sapphire reminded me. “He promised.”

“Yea,” I sighed. “I know.”

–

M“What are you up to?” I asked her.

“You heard him. Send him something dirty,” she demanded.

“Saph!”

“How is this any different than your bedroom?” she posed. “Come on. He’ll die.”

“Then I shouldn’t kill the man I hope is my mate,” I countered. She just growled.

I pulled out my phone. Of course, I had a message from him.

M“How does his brain even work?” I laughed.

“In beautiful, beautiful ways that I hope we will one day get to experience,” she replied dreamily. I looked around the calm, secluded river bank. “Do it. Do it,” Saph encouraged.

I turned so the water would be the background and snapped a selfie that showed just enough cleavage.