QUINN
The next couple of weeks were much less eventful. Christy was sad that I was now busier on the weekends with the wrestling team, but she seemed to be spending more and more time with Aubree, which was good for both of us. Jaxx texted me regularly, but it was pretty generic. I sat in bed on Tuesday night, scribbling in my notebook, hoping to hear from Michael soon. My phone rang from my nightstand.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Quinn, it’s Aubree,” he said.
“I know. I have caller ID,” I told him. “What’s up?”
“Oh, uh, I need your help,” he said.
“Okay? With what?” I sat up, closing my notebook.
“Her birthday is coming up, and we both know what will happen. I want to plan something special,” Aubree explained.
“Special as in how?” I asked.
“I want to make her feel like a princess,
