The ice felt good against her skin and even better against her sweater. Sighing a bit, she grabbed the beer by the neck and took a short swig, watching as he examined the box. It was small, maybe the size of his fist, neatly wrapped with a small bow at the top. She had it for a few weeks, debating if she should actually giving it to him before breaking down and doing it anyway. Her smile danced on her lips as she looked at him, “You open presents like someone who wants to save the paper.”
Quinn shrugs off her comment, proceeding to tear off the paper carefully. When it’s off, he only stares for a moment. Then he looks at her, his soft purse stretching into a wide grin. “Are you serious?”
