ALLISON.

Quinn strode ahead of me, her steps brisk and confident—almost excited. I quickened my pace to match hers.

"Where are we going exactly?" I asked, trailing behind her like a nervous pup. She seemed oddly enthusiastic about this whole thing.

"You’ll see," Quinn replied over her shoulder, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. That was never a good sign. Knowing Quinn, a smirk meant mischief, or worse, drama which was exactly her favorite thing.

As we rounded the corner, I froze at the sight in front of me. Quinn led me into the living room, where an unwelcome ambush awaited. Wesley lounged casually on the armrest of a...