OVERKILL ★ CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
(Snail In My Ear.)

"QUINN?"

She looks up from her phone. "Yeah?"

Nate glances at her before placing his eyes back on the road. "Do you think saying something vaguely problematic on the internet will get me famous?"

"Huh?" She forgets her phone, trading a good morning text from Jamie for wondering if Nate is vaguely problematic—? "Why? What belief do you hold that you'll actually wanna fucking do that?"

"No," he says. "Not like that." He pulls into the Nelson Road parking lot. He looks like he's paying extra attention to the slotting his car into his usual spot to downplay the words coming out of his mouth. "But . . . being famous comes with a lot of benefits, doesn't it?"

She ponders on this. She's friends with all the Greyhounds, and Keeley, and Rebecca, and Ted; their notoriety is a good base to start off this conversation. They get a lot of attention; someone like Jamie feeds off of it. But he still has to cover his face whenever he goes out. Ted and Rebecca have horrid articles written about them weekly, and people are constantly digging into their business. Keeley makes one wrong move and the media is there to criticize her for it. Those facts do little to make Quinn see the positives of being famous.

She voices those thoughts to Nate as they get out of the car. "I feel like it sounds cool in theory." Celebrities get a bunch of free shit—like the Nespresso machines that just shipped in for the team to promote. It's a little odd because she knows it's for promotion, but it's ironic that celebrities can actually afford shit like that, but they get sent it for free.

"Why are you thinking of it, anyway?" she asks after thanking him for holding the doors to the stadium open for her.

"It's stupid," admits Nate.

Quinn wants to tell him that it isn't stupid. He seems clearly bothered by something, and he's never once vocalized his distaste for being average (and by average, she means not being famous), so something might be up.

She doesn't get a chance to tell him that, though, because she's sweeped up by Sam the second she enters. He swiping her hand, smiling at Nate in a matter of seconds.

"May I steal her?" he asks Nate out of courtesy.

"Uh—sure?"

She smiles at Nate. "I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

He nods, but there's no smile on her face. She frowns. She'll get to the bottom of this.

But right now, she's trailing after Sam as he leads her to the boot room. She wonders what his complication is. Predicaments lately have seemed never-ending.

Upon entrance, she plugs her nose. It doesn't matter how many times a conversation has transpired in here, or how many times she's peaked her head in to find Will. The smell will always be insanely putrid. Will deserves some sort of raise for entering every day, and actually touching the horrifying boots. The poor guy probably needs some sort of chemical cleanse for a bath.

"Jesus," she mutters. She breathes in through her mouth, but the air still feels insanely thick. "So, what's up?"

Sam looks unfazed by the smell. Instead, a smile graces his face that could light every single smelly boot on fire. Quinn wishes that were the case.

"I met someone."

A smile breaks out on Quinn's face. Her hands press to her cheeks in delighted shock, smell forgotten. "Really? Sam, that's great!" She's not sure why he'd tell her this in the boot room, though. But she's happy nonetheless. "What's their name? What are they like? Is this a secret relationship type thing?"

Sam laughs, shaking his head. "No, that's the thing. I don't know. I met her on Bantr."

"Woah." Quinn's expression looks impressed. "Keeley's gonna be real happy."

Sam nods. The girl has been pressing all the boys about actually utilizing the app for weeks. "But it feels a little silly, you know? Because I don't know her name, what she looks like. But . . . but I haven't stopped talking to her. And I know, I it all started last night. But I really connected with her, Quinn. She understands all of the poetry references, and is funny, and . . . do I sound stupid?"

"No, Sam. You don't sound stupid at all. I'm happy for you! And I don't think you need to be ashamed of anything, if that's what you're worried about?"

"It's not that. I just feel very unsure. It's been less than two days and I feel like I'm obsessed with this girl. But does she feel the same? Will she? How do I act to make her like me?"

Quinn looks at him like he's crazy. "Seriously? Sam if you've been talking to her nonstop, then clearly she's just as interested with you as you see her! And if you've been acting like yourself this entire time, then continue to be yourself."

He nods, a smile gracing his lips at her words. "Do you think I should tell her I play professional football?"

"No," she replies immediately.

Sam's eyes widen at her conviction.

"Sorry. That's a biased opinion. I think the anonymity is cute, and you can scope her out better if she doesn't know who you are. But, you can do whatever you want!"

He nods. "I guess you're right . . ."

She smiles brightly. "I always am."

"Please don't tell anyone about her yet. I might tell the boys soon, if it goes steady. And I'm a little afraid they'll make fun of how the first girl I like since coming to is on that app."

"Whatever you have with her is your story to tell, not mine," shrugs Quinn. "And you know the boys will piss at you regardless. But they'll be supportive. I know they will."

"I hope."

"I'm not gonna lie, this talk is special. And I'm happy you're confiding in me . . . but did we really have to do it in the boot room? You could've come by my office for this one." She loves Sam, but she doesn't know why he needed to be confined in the boot room to discuss this.

"All serious conversations must take place here, Quinn! Besides, that's not the only thing I'm here to ask you about."

"Oh. What's the other thing, then?"

Sam's smile is suggestive. "What's going on with you and Jamie?"

"Oh God." Quinn wants to die. If the boot stench doesn't knock her out, then this will. "Nothing. We're friends."

He raises an eyebrow. "'Friends'? Where'd you get that necklace, then?"

She glances down at her chest confusingly, the emerald dangling from the gold chain. There are no physical traces of Jamie Bought This For Me! on it. "How do you—?"

"I sat next to him on the bus after we played Watford. And he was looking at that exact necklace. Funny coincidence, no?"

"Ugh. I hate you, you know that right?"

"I love you, too. So, when did he give it?"

"On Christmas," she admits.

"No way!" gasps Sam. "Like, here? did you guys see each other after."

". . . He came over for dinner."

"So you both are the type of friends that spend Christmas together? And disappear from Nelson Road at the same time?"

"You're making this sound like it's a secret relationship, or something," she says. "It's not. We're friends."

"Even if you wish differently."

"Stop."

"You're not denying it."

Quinn stares at him.

"Oh my God!" he yells, hands coming to his mouth in shock. "I was right. I was right. Oh my God. Truthfully that was me just testing the waters to see if you'd admit it, but I was right! I'm right, I—"

The door bursts open.

The two yelp. Quinn grabs onto Sam's arm and pulls him in front of her (he's a footballer and has a better chance of protecting her).

Ted and Dani stand at the door, eyes wide.

Ted breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that Quinn and Sam are okay. "We've never heard Sam yell like that before."

"We thought you might have passed away," says Dani with a concerned frown. "Is everything alright, Coach Quinn?"

"Everything is fine." She throws Sam a warning glance, but he's gone back to smiling.

"Everything's perfect. I'm sorry for my voice."

Ted looks at Quinn for confirmation.

"We're in the boot room," she assures, "and Sam is smiling. We're okay."

"Just making sure . . ."

"We're good! Love you!" She blows the two men a kiss.

Ted grins, and Dani makes a motion to show that he's caught it and placed it in his pocket.

"He just stole the kiss for himself," she says.

"I will happily share with you, Coach," grins Dani. He reaches into his pocket. "Would you like some?"

"Would I?" exclaims Ted. "Give me some of that."

The two have a playful argument as they exit the room. Dani pretends to cut the "kiss" in half, and Ted says he cut it unevenly. Quinn smiles at the banter before they close the door and she's back alone with Sam. She turns to him.

"You can't tell anyone, Sam. Only Rebecca and Keeley know."

"I'm honored to be one of the girls."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," shoots Quinn. "Can we get out of here now? The smell is especially strong today."

Sam laughs. "Let's go."

She follows him back to the locker room so that she can say good morning to the rest of the boys. They've been a little downcast over their match on Boxing Day where they played . . . well. They definitely played. Even Quinn can note how especially disappointing their performance was. It's taken a big toll on Isaac, who feel's personally offended by it because he's their captain. She'll have to talk to Ted about it; if there's anything he can do to help Isaac.

Upon entrance, her and Sam find a few of the boys (Colin, Jan Maas, Richard, Thierry, and Jamie) all huddled by the corner. Jan Maas is leading the conversation, talking in hushed whispers and with grand hand gestures.

That's not surprising.

What is a little odd, though, is how Colin immediately sushes Jan Maas upon making eye contact with her.

She raises an eyebrow. This feels awfully familiar.

She remembers the last time she decided to stay upon curiosity and cluelessness. It ended with "helping" Jan Maas finding his car, and a terribly awkward rejection.

Quinn swallows her curiosity. She can't be dealing with this right now. She'll say stay to greet everyone another time.

She gives them a quick wave, and they all nod back awkwardly. They're so weird.

She throws Jamie a question glance, because he's the only one who doesn't look nervous at her entrance. He doesn't look neutral through . . . he kind of looks a little pissed. And that isn't a look she's seen on him recently.

Sam, sensing the tension as well, looks at her confusingly. She shrugs.

"I'm not staying for this," she mutters. "Bye, Sam. I'll see you later?"

He nods. "See you."

★

Quinn's on her way back to her office, taking a large bite of her chicken caesar wrap. She likes to take a little walk during her lunch break, because she may love her office, but it has one window that faces away from the sun and it can get a little depressing. Especially if her eyes are glued to her computer and she looks up briefly to think, I thought I was in a jail cell.

She's half-immersed in her sandwich, that she doesn't hear the stampede of players filing out of the press room. It isn't until she's about to knock into Beard does she stop to take in her surroundings.

"Sorry," she says, in somewhat shock. But she's thankful that she ran into Beard, because it'd be ten times more embarrassing if it were someone else.

The other boys walk by, greeting her. When Isaac comes by, he grumbles. And it's not his typical Isaac Grumble, but much more aggressive. She's about to ask Beard how Richmond's captain is doing, when her godfather gasps.

He snaps three times, and Ted is at his side.

Quinn's brows furrow. Sandwich forgotten, she says, "What's going on—"

"Take her to the office."

Ted's hands plants onto her shoulders from behind. He leans over and whispers, "I'm not sure what's going on, Quinnie. But three snaps mean emergency."

"Huh?"

Ted's guiding her back to the coaches' office. She tries and fails to not look confused because, what the fuck? One minute she was enjoying her chicken caesar sandwich, and now she's feeling likes she's taking part in an alien abduction. 

They enter the office and lock the door.

Ted sits her down.

"Okay we got her. Now what do we do?"

"Magnifying glass."

Ted shuffles through a drawer on his desk until he pulls out a fucking magnifying glass with a built-in light. They must be joking. He tosses it to Beard, who lights it up and zones in on Quinn's necklace. She entertains the inspection for two seconds while she reels in shock, before swatting away Beard's hand. "Okay, that's enough."

"Christa loves you," Beard mutters, "but not this much."

"Excuse me?"

"Christa would never buy you this necklace."

Well shit.

Even Ted looks confused.

"Neither would Harvey," Beard continues.

She gulps.

"Quinn, where'd you get this?"

Wincing, she attempts one more try to get out of this mess, "Permission to lie?"

"No."

"You sure? I can lie really well right now."

"Truth, now."

"Um . . . well. Jamie got it for me."

The magnifying glass falls out of Beard's hands in shock. Ted leans onto the desk for support. She can't believe this is happening.

"You're going out with Jamie."

What the fuck? "Why is everyone assuming that? No! We're not dating. We're friends. Do you want me to spell it out?"

"Oh no, no, no, Quinnie bug," Ted shakes his head. "Friends don't buy another friend an expensive necklace."

"It's a Christmas gift! And he's rich!" Like, yes, she bets it was fucking expensive (if Beard's reaction is anything to go by) but is it really that much from Jamie's pocket in the grand scheme of things? He's a professional, in-demand striker. His car is hundreds of thousands, and his home is probably millions. And she's so grateful for the gift, but to Jamie it was likely an every-day spend.

Beard comes back from his shock, gasping. "Hang on. When did he give you a Christmas gift?"

Well shit, again. Quinn gapes, not knowing what to say.

His gasp deepens. "No. You did not spend Christmas with him."

"I didn't!" says Quinn. "But . . . he might have spent Christmas with me."

"Christa and Harvey, too?"

A murmur, "Yeah."

Beard stumbles back in a faint. Ted catches him.

"I can't believe my ears," her godfather says. "There's a snail living in my ear. It's imitating voices."

"You're so dramatic!"

"This has been going on from behind my back. I feel sick."

"Ted," she pleads, turning to him, "back me up please."

Ted sighs, a light smile on his lips. "I won't even lie, I predicted this from a mile away. Beard has just been in denial because you're his baby."

"I need to sit down." And Ted helps him to his seat.

"Can I go now?"

"No," they both say.

"We just have a few questions, Quinnie." Ted has his hands hanging from his waist like a true dad. He would be a wonderful girl dad, Quinn thinks, both him and Beard. She would be a wonderful daughter because she plays the part well (extremely embarrassed and uncomfortable when being interrogated about a boy in her life). 

"Explain what's going on with Jamie."

"We're just friends," she says. "Promise." And she's right, despite what everyone else may think. It's all one sided, as much as she wishes differently.

"Like . . . good friends?

"I guess," she mutters. "He's not bad."

"We know he's not, Quinnie," says Ted. "He's grown a heck of a lot, hasn't he, Coach?" When Beard looks reluctant to respond, Ted adds, "I'm trying to be the middleman here if you can't tell." 

"I can tell, thanks." She huffs a sigh. On one hand, she can understand why they're shocked. But it's also her life, and she doesn't need to inform them of everything that goes on. "I'm sorry," she ends up saying, "if it seemed like I was keeping a secret from you." Because I technically was. "But we are friends and he's nice and Christa and Harvey like him! He's good."

"I never said he wasn't," grumbles Beard.

"Well it feels very implied."

"So you two are friends?" asks Ted.

How many times do I need to say that? "Yes. And I didn't know I had to ask permission. Considering I'm an adult. And I can make my own decisions."

"We're just getting the facts straight."

"Ask her the question," says Beard.

"I don't like how insync you two are! You both are telepathic!"

"That's what twenty-seven years of friendship does to you," shrugs Ted. "You'll understand one day."

"Ask her the question."

"Right. Quinn, do you like Jamie?"

"Honestly? Yes."

"Oh, Lord Jesus, I'm seeing stars."

"You guys wanted honesty!"

"Yes, Quinnie, and thank you for being honest with us. But let me be honest and say Beard is gonna need a fortnight to process this information. I think you've broken him."

The two turn to look at Beard. His eyes are open, but he isn't moving. He looks like a corpse. Quinn snaps a finger in front of him. He doesn't blink.

She rolls her eyes at his dramatics.

"He just needs some oil, I'll patch him right up."

★

It's safe to say that Quinn has had an eventful day. After confessing her feelings towards Jamie to Sam, Ted, Beard all in one morning, she didn't think the day could get any more momentous. Beard's probably still broken. It couldn't get any more weird.

And then Keeley called her up to Rebecca's office.

She wasn't expecting anything major at all. She figured they'd have some tea, gossip, poke fun at each other, and then leave. But when she had gotten there, she was a bit surprised to see Nate there, and Keeley saying they've got a lot of work to do.

Ten minutes later, Quinn's found herself role playing a pissed off and snotty bystander in the simulation that's supposed to help Nate get a seat at the Taste of Athens. Apparently, that's what's been bothering him all day. Rebecca and Keeley think that the simulation will work just fine.

Nate called her a bonehead bimbo, and she was briefly shocked until she realized that he probably didn't mean it. Still, it had unsettled her. Nate had grumbled those words so fast, and now she briefly wonders how often he thinks of these kinds of insults.

But it's Nate. She shouldn't worry. He's still Nate, and drives her to work, and watches rom coms with her. There's nothing to worry about. The only thing she should dwell on is whether or not he gets the window table at the restaurant.

He left early to prepare himself for the confrontation with the restaurant's hostess, so she's left without a ride home. Which is fine, mass transit exists for a reason. And she thinks she might hang out at Ted's flat, anyway. As long as he doesn't mention Jamie and lets her eat his leftovers.

She's on her way to Ted's office to pester him when she catches a glimpse for the stadium's fitness center—the one reserved specifically for the team. Jamie's in there, on a stationary bicycle, scrolling through his phone. She thinks, Why the fuck not? She's entering before she can stop herself because she hasn't properly talked to him all day. She misses him.

He looks up when he hears the door open, and smiles at her entrance. "Hey."

"Hi. Am I interrupting?"

He tosses his phone into the bike's cup holder. "Nope. What're you still doing here? Nate's left ages ago."

"He's got things to do today."

"Hm. Need a ride?"

"I don't know. I was about to ask Ted if I could go home with him."

Jamie gives her a pointed look. "Would you rather go home with Rodeo Captain America, or spend time with me?"

"Jokes on you. I'm just imagining a cowboy Chris Evans, which is hot."

"You know, some people say I look like Chris Evans? There's a thread on Twitter about it."

"Did you find it by searching up your name?"

"Fuck off," Jamie laughs. He gets off the bike and wipes his forehead. "Lemme get dressed."

"Alright. Are you sure you're okay with driving me?"

"You always ask that. You know, since we're best friends—"

"Keep your voice down," Quinn interrupts jokingly. "You don't know who could be listening."

Jamie raises an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?"

"Oh, no. I don't like that look."

"It's my favorite look on me." He says, walking towards the set of double doors of the fitness room.

"Every look on you is your favorite."

"It's yours, too. I know it." He pushes out the doors loudly. He sticks his head out. "Oi!" he shouts, "Who's here right now?"

"Jamie—what are you doing?" She shouldn't have joked. No, this is terrible.

Sam peaks his head out from one of the rooms. Then Colin. Then Isaac. Like The Three Stooges, but considerably more hot and just as stupid.

Ted's face peeks out of his office. "Jamie!"

"Did you all know Quinn's my best friend?"

Sam and Ted say, "Yes."

Colin's eyebrows raise. Isaac's eyebrows furrow together. They look at each other.

"We should've known," Isaac says dejectedly. "She's replaced us."

"No, I haven't. Jamie just feels stupid and threatened." She smacks his chest, and his own hand quickly snaps up to hold onto her hand. Her heart rate spikes. The ring on his pinky shines under the fluorescent light.

"She doesn't wanna admit it, but I'm her favorite—"

He's right. She doesn't want to admit it. Especially in front of the remaining Greyhounds in the stadium. She doesn't know where Jamie's sudden burst of energy came from, but it isn't proving to be beneficial.

"—And I think you should just go ahead and tell everyone that."

Fucking Christ.

Her and Jamie haven't been very outward about their friendship. Their privacy hadn't even been discussed, it was more of an unspoken agreement. Everyone knows they're friends, but it looked balanced since she spent a good amount of time with everyone else. It isn't dire information for everyone else to know that they spend much more time together than normal.

That fact makes it all the more confusing as to why Jamie is suddenly very eager to talk about their friendship so eagerly.

"Lovely," she says, "Can we go now?" She takes her hand from his hold so they don't look any more incriminating. She regrets it, immediately, though. Because, unknowingly, she's become extremely familiar with the feel his hand. It's comforting for her, which doesn't help the crush she's harboring at all.

He nods. "Yeah, let's go." He's stalking back towards to the locker room, leaving Quinn to meet the eyes of everyone else there.

Ted raises his eyebrows suggestively. Sam is smirking. Colin and Isaac still look confused.

"I don't wanna hear it!" she says.

★

A/N: i wonder why.. jamie's acting that way...