The Epidemic by Suzanne Young Page A

conference. Myra was in the backseat with me, more than a little drunk, and changing her clothes without a care that the rest of us were in the car.
    Deacon tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel, completely out of time with the smooth jazz he insisted on, as he avoided looking in the rearview mirror. Once Myra pulled her T-shirt back over her head and swiped out her hair from her collar, she leaned back in the seat and turned toward me.
    “Much better,” she said. “I hate those push-up things.”
    “I don’t hate them,” Aaron called out, not even turning to look back at us. I kicked playfully at his seat, and he laughed. Myra flicked my leg with her finger.
    “What’s up with you?” she asked me. “That boy was all about you tonight, Quinlan. What was his name?”
    “Gleason,” I told her with a pointed look.
    “Yeah, that one.” She smiled as if saying it might be good for Deacon to hear all about it. He’d brought dates around me since the breakup, something I pretended not to care about.
    “Not my type,” I told her. And he wasn’t. He was just another dude at a party who thought teaching me how to play pool would end with him teaching me a few other tricksinvolving balls. “He wasn’t horrible,” I said. “But he wasn’t for me.”
    “None of them are ever your type,” she said under her breath. “Well, almost none of them.” She nodded toward Deacon.
    Although he didn’t catch her comment, Deacon lifted his eyes to the rearview mirror. “I hope you’re not giving Quinn advice on how to use her closer party skills to manipulate unsuspecting young men, demolishing all the lies I’ve told myself about true love and soul mates.”
    I hold Deacon’s amused gaze for only a second before looking out the window into the dark night. “I never use my skills for evil,” I told him. “Not even when you call me at three in the morning begging me to tell you good night so you can sleep.”
    “Ohhh . . . ,” Aaron sang, and pointed at Deacon.
    “Demolished,” Deacon muttered.
    “You’ll get over it,” I told him, fighting back my own smile. Myra did a dramatic double take between the two of us and then made a sound like mm-hm and crossed her arms over her chest.
    “Calling at three a.m.? Good thing you two are broken up,” she said sarcastically, and exchanged a look with Aaron, who had turned around in the seat to grin at her like an idiot. “What happened to Reed Castle?” she asked. “The closer from Tillamook. I saw you two talking the other day. He’s hot. Pretty sure he was his school’s quarterback once upon a time.”
    “Tight end,” I corrected.
    “I bet.”
    “Hello,” Deacon said with a wince as he pulled into theparking lot in back of Aaron’s apartment complex, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Self-censor, please. I actually know Reed—we used to hang out before he moved. So I’d rather not listen to the two of you rate his body parts.”
    I turned to Myra. “I’d give it an A,” I told her.
    “No,” she responded seriously. “Easily an A plus. Maybe A plus plus?”
    Deacon snorted a laugh, shaking his head.
    In reality, I’d met Reed only a handful of times, and none of them had involved seeing naked body parts.
    Deacon parked my Honda near the back of the brick building and yanked up the emergency brake. When he got out, he opened the back door for me, standing over me as he pretended to pick casually at his fingernails.
    “So Reed, huh?” he asked, not looking at me.
    “Maybe,” I said as I reached back into the car to grab my bag from the floor. Part of me wanted to hurt him. At least a little bit.
    “I’m just trying to be friends,” Deacon said offhandedly. “Thought that was the plan.”
    Now I was the one who was hurt. I pushed past him, hooking my backpack strap over my shoulder as I headed toward Aaron’s apartment. “You should go home, Deacon,” I called, turning to walk backward so I could see him. “It’s nearly