It'd been ages since Paloma cooked a decent meal. Outside of the rare occasions that Ava came over and demanded her home cooking, ramen noodles, poorly-made salads, and ham sandwiches became Paloma's staple meals further back than she cared to admit. But, these days, she managed to surprise both herself and Quinn by putting together above-average quality meals on a just about a nightly basis.

That evening's supper was breaded parmesan chicken on a bed of white rice—a dish Paloma never thought could be conjured up in her kitchen. Nevertheless, the tender meat and alluring scent were lost on the girl. Quinn was far too busy with the likes of her cellphone. Paloma had always been proud of her gift-giving abilities, but that one, she figured, must've taken the cake.

The teenager spent whatever downtime available scrolling countless miles on the screen of her phone, and though it hadn't gotten under Paloma's skin too much in the past (she'd done the same too many times to count), that evening was different.

"I'm invoking older sister power."

Quinn's brows knitted together in curiosity. That wasn't the first time her sister petitioned what always turned out to be an omnipotent strategy. As far as a decade and a half back, even with something as simple as deciding who was going to be picking the entertainment for their traditional Friday night movie, Quinn found herself losing at a fictitious game she never agreed to play to start with. Only thing was, she hadn't the slightest clue as to what she was going to be losing that time.

Paloma promptly filled her in. "No phones at the dinner table," she quipped, snatching the device out of Quinn's desperate clutches before she could plead her case.

Like a manipulative toddler, Quinn sank down in her chair and pouted her lips. "Come on, Plum. Please?"

The woman in question grinned incandescently. "Nice try." Using her fork, she pointed to the untouched food on Quinn's plate that was getting colder by the second. "Eat."

It took no more than a moment for Quinn to grab ahold of her utensils, albeit reluctantly.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Paloma effortlessly tossed her chocolate mane over her shoulders and awoke the girl's smartphone. Mischievous smirk on display, she hoisted up an eyebrow and threw the girl a somewhat suspicious look.

"Password encrypted, huh?"

Quinn shrugged. "Don't want kids at school going through my stuff."

Paloma's smirk didn't wane, but neither did her curiosity. She hummed. "And me neither, I suppose?"

"Preferably, no. I mean, I don't go through your stuff."

Amused, Paloma laughed. "'Cuz you know I'd kick your ass if you did. Besides, I'm not a teenager." She leaned in, her teasing nature fading by the second. "Anything on here I should know about?"

"Aside from ebooks and candy crush?" Quinn cut through her chicken, only meeting her sister's eyes with an unamused expression once the food made it into her mouth. "Not really."

Paloma relinquished her gaze to the phone and didn't bother swallowing her food first when she spoke. "What do you do on this thing all day, anyway?"

Quinn hastened to the phone with a great sense of urgency, but Paloma's reflexes proved to be greater. Admitting defeat, the teenager sighed and reclaimed her seat. "Nothing." When Paloma's eyes snapped back to the screen, Quinn bit her lip. "No phones at the table, remember? Your rule." 

Paloma flashed her a cheeky smile. After what seemed to be an eternity, she adhered to the teenager's wishes by swapping out the phone for her cutlery. "Who are you texting so routinely these days?" When Quinn shook her head, the woman pressed on without hesitation. "You gotten to know anyone at school?"

"Not really."

Paloma's face fell just as she dropped her cutlery with an obnoxious clank. "Why not?"

The redhead shrugged unadornedly. "I just haven't gotten around to it; not that I even can at this point. I'm already a sophomore and I'm surrounded by people I've never seen before. Everyone already has their groups—people to sit with at lunch, hang out with after school..." With no particular sense of purpose, she poked away at the tiny mountain of rice that toppled over one another on her plate. "I came too late. Anyway, who cares?"

"Hey, I do," said Paloma. "It's never too late. You just gotta put yourself out there more. If you show people how amazing you are, everything will fall into place. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their friend." She dipped her head just enough to catch Quinn's gaze. "Trust me on this, kiddo."

Quinn didn't refute that, but it didn't mean she agreed either. Paloma tried to ignore the twinge of pain in her chest at the thought of the girl sitting alone in silence throughout the dreadfully-long duration of each school day, but it manifested itself all the same. She hid her distress the best way she knew how—through a smile.

"Which brings me back to my question: what the hell do you do on that thing all day? Don't think you're weaseling your way out of answering me," she teased. 

"Just...screw around. Social media and stuff."

Raising a single brow, Paloma peered at the girl in a manner that was all but fleeting. "As long as it's not some boy."

Quinn could practically feel the sternness radiating from the women, even through the simper she so readily presented. Starting as far back as when she was Quinn's age, Paloma had a list of old boyfriends that was about as long as a Christmas sermon. Still, she put a double standard on just about everything when it came to her sister. Three years later, that still seemed to be the case.

Once Paloma decided that Quinn was taking too long to shoot down her suspicions, she unknowingly adopted their late father's austere expression—flared nose and all.

"It's not," Quinn promptly asserted.

Lucky for Quinn, that was the truth because, really, it wasn't some boy.

It was a man.

Even the mere thought of Mickey enticed a fervent blush on the apples of Quinn's cheeks. Like all of his other features, his hair was absolutely to die for. Though short, it was as rich in color as the milk chocolate smashed against marshmallows and sandwiched between two graham crackers. As if that wasn't enough, it was fuller than freshly bloomed flowers in the springtime. Mickey's smile was nothing if not infectious and his olive skin accentuated his honey eyes just perfectly.

Late at night, when he'd frolic through her dreams, she'd sleep soundly with a permanent smile painted on her pink lips; though it didn't happen as often as she'd hoped considering, like in her dreams, during the day, her mind was forced to fill in the blank spaces Mickey's absence left behind.

After all, she'd never actually met him in person.

Just a couple weeks after creating a profile on LoveCompass.com, 'where connections last an eternity', Quinn got a notification from an older—but incredibly handsome—gentleman.

Initially, she'd made the profile out of a joke that only she was a part of, but it only took a few days of talking to Mickey for her to learn that the website's slogan was true down to the very last word.

In what felt like no time at all, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and suddenly, there they were—a little over a year out and still very close. Nevertheless, Quinn didn't dare reveal her true age, which suited her just fine because, apparently, even in the eyes of a thirty-year-old, she appeared at least eighteen.

"Good." Quinn's eyes snapped to Paloma's once the woman's gaze demanded it. "I don't want to have to kick some horny, teenaged boy's ass."

Quinn rode the wave of Paloma's ephemeral laughter, aiming to throw her off her scent. Then she asked, "What about you and that guy you mentioned before? You've been going out a lot lately, right? How's that going?"

Paloma fought a grin. "You're really good at deflecting, you know that?"

"Learned from the best," the teenager fired back.

After taking a generous gulp of her wine, Paloma's simper resurfaced. "I'm glad you brought him up, actually. Things between us are good—really good. Plus, he's incredibly easy on the eyes which always helps." Her gravity returned in an instant. "Ever since the day we met, he's been genuinely kind, caring, trustworthy and just...amazing, really."

"Good. I didn't wanna have to kick some horny, grown man's ass."

Paloma rolled her eyes at the girl's attempt to mock her. "Anyway, it's gotten a lot more serious between us and, I mean, only an idiot wouldn't seal the deal." She chuckled. "So, now that he's officially my boyfriend, I was really hoping you'd wanna meet him. What do you think?"

Quinn put down her utensils, tossed her cloth napkin onto her plate, and smiled. "I think, if you deem him introduction-worthy, it sounds like you finally picked someone worth your time." Her giggle came out in a short burst. "That's great, Paloma. Seriously."

Paloma's eyes lit up like a single lit candle in the depths of a gravely dark cave. Quinn collected Paloma's empty plate, stacking it onto her own, then made her way to the kitchen sink shortly after. Her sister wasn't far behind.

"So, you're legit cool with this?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Paloma's eyes washed over the girl empathetically. "I just know it's been a ton of change lately, for you, especially, and—"

Quinn abruptly waved her off. "No, it's fine. If you're good, so am I."

Paloma cocked her head to the side and teetered. "When did you get so mature?"

"Oh, trust me, I've always been mature. It's just that you were too immature to see it, so..." Quinn winced as she broke the news. "It's all about perspective."

Paloma nodded and laughed. "Gotcha." A moment later, she asked, "Would tonight be okay? For meeting him, I mean. That wasn't the initial plan but he asked me to go out a little while ago but I declined because I really didn't wanna leave you here all alone again since I've been dickishly doing that a lot lately. Sorry, by the way," she rambled. "But since you're cool with all this then, would you be up for making this happen tonight? And you can totally say no. I won't be mad."

Quinn nodded. "Sure."

That earned her an altruistic squeeze on the shoulder. "You're amazing," professed Paloma. "You know that?"

After about twenty minutes of minor cleaning in attempts to make the apartment look a bit more like a maid came through as opposed to a tornado, a knock sounded from the front door. Had she blinked, Quinn would've missed it, but she decided that before then, she'd never seen such a giddy expression on her sister's face.

Paloma raced to the front door, meanwhile, Quinn stayed back in the kitchen to put the remaining dishes away in their respective cabinets. She chuckled softly to herself as she listened to excitable greetings being exchanged. The second Paloma summoned her, Quinn made her debut.

"Quinn, this is Michael. Michael, this is my little sister, Quinn."

Though introductions had ensued, neither Quinn nor Michael dared to mutter a word. Quinn felt pretty adamant that, for him, the reason was the same; for when he directed his honey eyes and infectious smile to her, she couldn't break herself out of the trance even if she wanted to.

She decided that his lips looked even softer in person. The pictures on his profile didn't do him justice. She figured, even if they hadn't met under those circumstances, his towering height still would've left her in absolute awe. And, to top it all off, Quinn thought she just might die because he somehow managed to be both slender and built in all the right places.

"Alex?" he just about whispered.

It was Paloma who had to propel the conversation forward. "What?" She chuckled softly. "No. Michael, this is Quinn. She's my little sister, remember? The one who just came to live with me. She's who I've been telling you about."

"Oh, right." The man shook his head ferociously. "Yeah, sorry. Hi...Quinn."

Hello, Mickey, Quinn thought to herself. "Hi, Michael," she said, instead.

Though the trio was all confused, Quinn had a bit more knowledge about the situation than her oblivious sister, and, for that, she was thankful.