Snowed In by Teodora Kostova Read Free Book Online Page B

Tiptoeing back to the couch, he lied down and stared at the ceiling. He could still hear them talking but it was quieter now, and he couldn't make out what was being said. Brandon did most of the talking in a gentle, soothing voice, and Quinn hoped that when he woke up in the morning he wouldn't have to wrestle Nate into the car.
    Because, god help him, he would if it meant spending the next three days alone with Nate.

Chapter eight
     
    “RULE NUMBER one: do not talk to me,” Nate said, counting the rules out on his fingers. He was cute as hell when he was scowling like that. Quinn wanted to reach across the breakfast bar and pull him in for a kiss. “Rule number two: don’t do anything to annoy me while I’m driving, because I swear – even my legendary patience is wearing thin right now.” Quinn snorted, but tried to cover it by bringing the coffee cup to his lips. Nate gave him the evil eye again and continued to list his rules for the road trip. “When we get to Vegas it’s every man for himself. We have two nights at the hotel there and I really don’t feel like bonding over our gambling losses. I tried to book a separate room last night but the hotel is fully booked, so unfortunately we have to share. Which brings me to rule number three.”
    “I thought the no bonding over gambling losses was rule number three.”
    Nate stared at him, his eyebrows pulling down. “No, that was just giving you the heads up that you probably won't see much of me when we get there.”
    Quinn made an ‘oh’ sound and waved at Nate to go on. Nate’s glare didn't ease as he continued. “Rule number three: don’t talk to me.”
    “Wasn’t that rule number one?”
    “It was. It’s also rule number three.”
    “Is gagging you and tying you up in the trunk still an option?”
    “Dream on.” Nate brought his own cup of coffee to his lips but not before Quinn saw the tiny smile he was trying to hide.
     
    *    *    *    *    *
     
    Quinn managed to follow rule number one and rule number three for about fifteen minutes. They hadn’t even left LA yet when he turned to Nate in the driving seat and said,
    “How are you finding college? Is the art program any good at UCLA?”
    Nate pursed his lips, his jaw muscles jumping before he replied. “It’s fine.”
    Quinn ignored Nate’s obvious reluctance to chat and continued. “I’ve heard they have a pretty practical, hands on approach. Did you do any workshops in an actual animation studio yet?”
    “Yes.” Nate’s hand gripped the steering wheel tighter, his back rigid with tension.
    “And? How did you like it?”
    “It was fine.”
    “Nate!”
    “What? I told you not to talk to me.”
    “This is ridiculous,” Quinn mumbled, turning to look out the side window. “We can’t spend the next three days not talking at all.”
    “We can sure as hell try.”
    “I don't want to.”
    “I didn’t want you to leave, but you did, so I give exactly zero fucks about what you want, Quinn.”
    “I can’t change the past, Nate. I’m here trying to make up for what I did, but you won’t even let me try. Why?” Quinn turned in his seat again, folding his leg underneath him. The seatbelt dug into his shoulder but he didn't care.
    “Because I don't trust you anymore.” Nate said the words in a flat, low voice, barely loud enough to be heard over the radio.
    “We can try changing that, too,” Quinn said softly, barely restraining himself from touching Nate’s hand.
    Nate huffed, shaking his head, but didn’t reply. He relaxed back into his seat and they drove in silence until the first scheduled rest stop.
    “Do you want me to take over?” Quinn asked as they finished their sandwiches and headed back to the car.
    “Fine,” Nate said with a shrug and tossed him the keys.
    Quinn was getting really fucking tired of the word fine.
     
    *    *    *    *    *
     
    The drive to Vegas took them a little more than six hours. It was a gorgeous sunny