Me, You, & The Party Rock Crew

“I wonder if you look both ways when you cross my mind” – See You Again, Tyler the Creator featuring Kali Uchis, 2017. 

The next morning rolled in like the clouds over the area. The December gloom, as they called it. It almost felt like home, if the air didn’t smell so sharply of sea salt. 

Izzie was up early, packed, and ready to go, double and triple-checking that she had everything before locking up and arming her condo. There was a strange finality to it, even if she was only leaving for a few weeks. 

A taxi pulled up outside, the driver giving her a polite nod as he helped her haul her bags into the trunk. He grinned when he spotted Stelly blinking sleepily from her backpack. 

“To LAX?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” she smiled. 

The car ride was quiet, just the low hum of the radio filling the silence. Izzie leaned her head against the window, watching the palm trees, cars, and pastel houses blur into a water color of California life. 

Soon she would trade all of this for cracked sidewalks, red brick houses, and oak trees stripped bare by winter, and endless gray rainclouds. 

Home. 

The world rolled around in her head. For so long Santa Monica had been home, or at least, it had been something close. Chicago, on the other hand, tugged at something deeper, something older inside her. The people. The history. The pieces of herself she had left behind. 

Before she knew it, the driver was pulling up to the airport terminal. 

He helped her with her luggage, and she handed him a folded bill. “Here you go. Happy holidays, sir. Thank you.” 

The taxi driver smiled warmly, pocketing the 20-dollar tip. “Happy holidays, miss.” 

Izzie hoisted Stelly’s bubble backpack onto her shoulders, the little cat giving a soft mrrp from inside, and made her way inside. 

Check-in was mercifully fast, and TSA, while still TSA, moved along at a decent clip. She found herself barefoot on the cold floor of the security scan, arms lifted, backpack and shoes moving through the conveyor belt. 

This time tomorrow, everything’s going to be different again, she thought. 

There was a tangle of nerves deep in her chest, the same kind she always got before seeing the Party Rock Crew after long stretches apart. Excitement, sure. Nostalgia, definitely. There was also a pinch of something unspoken, something she hadn’t fully sorted through yet. 

Still, she smiled to herself as she slipped her shoes back on and retrieved Stelly’s space backpack-carrier. 

It was time to go home. 

However, being a stereotypical Taurus that she was, Izzie’s stomach growled, and the smells of breakfast shops opening throughout the terminal made it impossible to ignore. She’d find her gate first, then definitely reward herself with some food. 

She meandered through the airport, not in any real hurry with two hours to kill, sticking to the sides to avoid the harried business travelers and bleary-eyed families. It was comforting, somehow, to watch the airport slowly come alive with people from all corners of life. 

Finally arriving at her gate, she let out a tiny sigh of relief. 

It was perfect: a McDonald’s and a Starbucks right next to it. 

Her path was decided. 

She beelined her way to the McDonald’s line first, grabbing two Egg McMuffins, then wandered into Starbucks to order her usual: a Venti matcha with three pumps vanilla, two pumps brown sugar–a trick an old coworker taught her years ago that she never stopped using. 

She was half-distracted, fumbling for her phone when she heard it: 

“I’ve got an order for Quinn?” the barista called out. 

Izzie froze. 

No way. No fucking way. 

It had to be a coincidence. It had to be. 

But as the man in front of her grabbed his coffee, she saw him–really saw him–and her stomach dropped. 

It was him. 

Quinn’s eyes lit up like the Fourth of July.

“Izzie!” 

Izzie froze—McDonald’s bag in one hand, Starbucks cup in the other. Her heart skipped, stuttered, and then started sprinting like it was trying to escape her body. 

It was him. 

It was really him. 

Quinn smiled so wide, so bright, she half-expected the sun to come out from under him. Before she could react, however, he closed th distance in two easy steps. 

“Izzie!” he said again, like they weren’t standing in the middle of a terminal, like they hadn’t lost 2 and a half years between them. 

For half a second, she just stood there. Frozen. In awe. 

Then–because what else was she supposed to do–she smiled. Wide, reflexive, helpless. 

“Quinn,” she managed, her voice three octaves higher than usual. 

He laughed, an easy, warm, familiar sound that wrapped around her like a blanket that she didn’t ask for, but secretly needed. 

“You gonna leave me hanging?” he teased, holding his arms wide open. 

Oh. Right. A hug. He was a hugger. 

She shuffled forward, juggling her cup and bag awkwardly as he pulled her into a hug, firm, warm, and annoyingly perfect. 

He still smelled the same. Some unfair combination of vanilla and fresh tropical fruit–and summer. 

When he let go, he leaned back, studying her. 

“You look..” A pause. A real pause. 

“Good! Really good.” 

And dammit, if she didn’t feel her face flush like a muddle schooler with a crush. 

She cleared her throat, grasping for some semblance of chill. 

“You too. I didn’t think you’d be the first familiar face I ran into this morning.” 

“Right? Same,” he chuckled, hoisting his carry-on over one shoulder. 

“You heading back home too?” 

“Yeah. Chicago.” 

He smiled, like it was the answer he was hoping for. 

“Me too. Well, my mom’s first home,” he laughed. “Looks like we’re officially travel buddies.” 

Izzie took a big sip of her matcha to hide her expression. Somewhere, deep in her bag, her phone buzzed again, inciting an annoyed “mrrow” from Stelly. 

Probably Hala. Or worse. Simon. 

She didn’t check it. Not yet, at least. 

“Aww, is that Stelly?!” Quinn’s eyes lit up with recognition.

“Oh–yeah,” Izzie turned slightly, revealing Stelly in all her sleepy glory. The little cat blinked up at him with drowsy hazel eyes…then promptly went back to sleep.

“I remember when she was just a kitten, I could hold her in the palm of my hand.” 

“Crazy how time flies, right?” Izzie replied, turning back to face him. There was a soft fondness in his expression as he nodded. 

“So, what brings you back home?” 

“Hala’s getting married, finally,” she laughed. 

“Wow! That’s amazing. Congrats to Hala and…Martin, right?” 

“Yup,” she nodded, mildly surprised he remembered. That was the thing about Quinn–if he really cared, he remembered everything. 

“What about you?” she asked. “What’s bringing you to the Chi?” 

“My mom’s 60th birthday bash. She wants the whole family to be there, so you know, I’m dragging my feet to get there,” he chuckled. “Abby and Mel should already be in town. I had you know…teacher stuff to wrap up.” 

“Right, right. How’s history teacher life treating you?” 

“Oh, you know–can’t ever get tired of telling the same old stories over and over again.” 

Izzie groaned and shook her head—typical Quinn. 

She missed the familiarity of it all: the laughter, the dramatic eye rolls at his history puns, but most of all, him. She missed him. 

“I’m glad to see you haven’t changed,” Izzie said, teasing, but with an air of sincerity. 

“Yeah? Right back at you. Let me guess–two Egg McMuffins and an obvious matcha?” 

“Shut up,” she snorted. 

“It’s all right there,” he grinned. “You’re a creature of habit.” 

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face lingered. 

“So,” he continued, “how’s principal life treating you?” 

“Eventful as always,” she shrugged. “Never a dull moment.” 

“In a good way, right?” 

“Of course,” she said with a soft smile. “In the best way. But still…nothing will ever compare to two summers ago.” 

Her voice held a certain lilt–something between wistfulness and mischief. 

Quinn’s gaze lowered for a moment. “Yeah…that was a good time. I miss it too sometimes.” 

“Now look at all of us,” Izzie nudged him lightly. “Thriving in our own weird ways.” 

He laughed, but the sound was a little quieter this time. .For a second, he didn’t say anything–just looked at her, really looked at her. The way her smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The way her eyes still crinkled when she was genuinely happy. 

God, he had missed that smile. 

And maybe–just maybe–his heart fluttered more than it should’ve. 

He dropped his gaze again, thumb fidgeting with the black stainless steel ring on his hand. A nervous habit. Izzie’s eyes flickered to it, recognizing it instantly. The fidget ring. Her ring. 

Well, not hers. Rosalyn’s. 

Her smile dimmed just a fraction, a flash of memory passing behind her eyes. She remembered when he used to twist that ring out of pure habit during their late-night conversations before he had gone back to Rosalyn. Before everything had ended. 

“You still have it, huh?” Izzie asked, her voice low, almost lost beneath the noise of the terminal. 

Quinn glanced at his hand. “Yeah…Rosa let me keep it after we broke up again. Not like a keepsake or anything–just, you know, I can’t stop fidgeting.” He chuckled, but there was something tired underneath it. 

“Hey, you’re not alone in that,” Izzie said, holding up her right hand and wiggling her right ring finger. 

Quinn leaned in slightly, grinning. “No way!” 

“The one and only,” she smirked. “Remember when Jo gave it to me?” 

“Yeah, I do,” he chuckled. “Wow. That’s practically an ancient relic now.” 

“Oh, please, as if yours isn’t?” 

“Touche.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. Then, noticing the growing line behind them, he jerked his chin toward a cluster of open tables by their gate. 

“Come on, before we cause a traffic jam.” 

“Good call,” Izzie laughed, falling into step beside him. 

If they weren’t in an airport, Izzie could’ve sworn she was back on UCLA’s campus–backpack slung over one shoulder, books and laptop weighing her down instead of a sleepy cat. Her luggage wasn’t a suitcase anymore, it was her heart. 

Just like that, she was 26 again. Wandering campus in the early autumn evening. Thee he was–Mr. Congeniality himself. Both of them first-year grad students, walking out of class together, joking about the weekend, wondering if it was too soon to start another cup of coffee. 

It felt like old times again. 

“So…you and Rosa,” Izzie asked carefully, “what happened?” 

Quinn looked down at his drink, then back at her. “We wanted different things. I think a part of me will always love her, but not in the way that makes a relationship work. It’s shifted into something more…tangible, but not sustainable.” 

“Like a friendship?” 

“Eventually, yeah.” He shrugged. “Even when we got back together, I don’t think I’d fully healed from the way it ended the first time. I thought I could move past it, but–I couldn’t.” 

Izzie’s throat went dry. She took a sip of her matcha, letting the quiet settle between them as she gently placed her backpack on the table. Stelly peeked at Quinn, blinked lazily, then went back to sleep. 

Quinn finally looked up. “Do you think it was the wrong choice? 

She tilted her head. “What do you think?” 

He paused, then gave a small, honest smile. “I feel good. Like I’m finally breathing again.” 

“Then who cares what I think?” she said with a shrug.

Her words landed softly, but they carried weight. 

Quinn’s gaze fell. When he and Rosalyn got back together, it was messy. He knew it hurt Izzie–even if she never outright said it. Deep down, he’d always suspected he’d made the wrong call. He just hadn’t been brave enough to admit it. 

Jose had once told him he pulled a Simon. 

As much as Quinn detested the guy who broke Izzie’s heart. He wasn’t wrong. 

“I care,” he said, almost quietly. 

Izzie exhaled. She knew he cared–he always had. That was the one thing she’d loved about Quinn: he was warm, open, and emotionally honest in a way Simon never was. However, with the way everything had gone down between them…it had cut too close to home. 

“I know you do,” she sighed. “As long as you’re happy, that’s what matters, you know?” 

There was a pause before Quinn asked, “Are you happy?” 

Izzie let out a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood, “As happy as one can be. My best friend’s getting married, so that’s a win. I have to see Simon again, which, not exactly thrilling, but once I get through that, I’ll be golden.” 

Quinn cracked a grin. “Need a plus one?” 

Of course he’d offer. Hala would absolutely die if Izzie brought him, but the last thing she wanted was to turn her best friend’s wedding into a drama-filled spectacle. 

“Are you free December 23rd?” 

He perked up. “Yeah, wait–are you offering–?” 

“Hala’s throwing a wedding after party. Way more chill. Most of my high school friends will be there, if you want to come to that instead. Less pressure.” 

“I–yeah, I’d love to.” 

Just like that, there was a moment between them, a glimmer of hope that they could rekindle that little flame that had once flickered a few autumns ago. 

“Flight 184 to Chicago will begin boarding in a few minutes.” 

The loudspeaker crackled, and all three of them–Quinn, Izzie, and even sleepy Stelly–flinched at the sudden announcement. 

They looked at each other and laughed. 

Soon enough, they were shuffling toward the gate with the rest of the crowd. They didn’t have seats together, but knowing Quinn was on the same flight gave Izzie a surprising sense of ease. 

It was as if to say that no matter what waited for her back in Chicago, she wouldn’t be facing it entirely alone.