Quinn

by Doyle, Dawn

  I shook my head, parted the straps, and put on my helmet. The ride to school wouldn’t be long enough to clear my head, and it was better that it didn’t. I had a fight coming up, and the more aggression I could save, the better.

  ***

  The door banged behind me as I entered the building, the side entrance near the dean’s office virtually free from other students except for the few walking by that hung around between the classes they had on the same day.

  I kept my focus dead ahead, not giving eye contact to anyone there.

  “Quinn, hey,” a voice came from behind me, but I didn’t turn. “You at the circle this week?”

  I slowed to a stop, then spun around to see one of the green-capped guy’s buddies from the beach. “Why are you talking to me about this?” I asked, keeping my voice low so nobody could hear our conversation, hoping he got the damn hint to shut the fuck up.

  “A few of us are getting there early, grabbing a few beers before the show? Wanna join?”

  I rushed him, getting in his face, almost nose to nose. I had to stoop a little to meet his. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I ground out between gritted teeth, my temper flaring so damn high I could’ve kicked his ass right then. His face drained of color, and his brows shot up so high, they virtually disappeared under his floppy blond hair. I stabbed my finger into his chest, knocking him back. “The show? Do you think this is a fucking game, dumb-ass? That we beat on each other for shits and giggles?”

  He shook his head so fast it was comical, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed repeatedly. “N-no, Quinn. I was just saying—”

  “Don’t bother showing up,” I snarled. “You’re not welcome, and neither are your friends.”

  “Jeez, Quinn,” he complained. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I don’t give a fuck how you meant it.” I got in his face one last time. “You’re out. The only time you’re ever getting in again is if you’re a participant.” When he backed up, I turned and continued on my way, only pausing to blow a kiss at Mrs. Montgomery, who was standing in the doorway of the student office, her usual scowl for me in place. “Hey, gorgeous,” I said, laughing to myself when her already powdered cheeks turned darker pink with frustrated anger.

  She loved me really, just like Dean Beaufort. Like a pulsating cyst that they wanted to get rid of, but had to bear for a little while longer. And I liked them just as much.

  I tried not to fall asleep while Mr. Cunningham went about his class, his monotone teaching voice boring me to fucking death. The reason I didn’t catch up on some much-needed sleep was the fact that he was very much aware of David’s antics. I smiled, understanding why he was reticent rather than calling me out. I batted my lashes at him a couple of times, the same smart-ass expression I reserved for people like him and his shitty excuse for a son.

  “Fucker can’t even look at us,” Josh whispered, leaning toward me. “Do you think he’ll try anything?”

  I stretched my legs out and folded my arms over my chest, sliding down until my ass was barely on my seat. “With what he now knows, would you?”

  Josh snorted a laugh behind his fist, coughing to disguise it. “Not a fucking chance, man. I’d be shitting out half my body weight if it were me.”

  “Then, I think it’s safe to say this point has been well and truly made.”

  “Fuckin’ ay.” Josh held out his fist for me to bump, and I did, right when the prof saw us.

  Nothing had happened after David’s car was found all burned to a fucking crisp, not that they had any evidence, but I did. I held all the damn cards, and if anything came crawling back in this direction, shit would hit the fan like a tornado at a pig farm.

  “Assignments are due in at the end of the week, so if you could, please make sure to have them to me by the end of the day, Friday,” Mr. Cunningham said once we began clearing out of the room. Once Josh and I passed by, he took a step toward us. “Uh, Quinn. Could I have a moment? You too, Josh.”

  “Sure thing,” I replied with a salute, and propped myself against his desk, waiting for him to close the door for privacy.

  “What’s up?” Josh asked with a shrug. “Is there something you want to get off your chest?”

  I smirked and glanced at Josh, then to the prof.

  He took a long, deep breath, blowing out of his nose a moment later. “Yes, there is,” he finally replied. “My son, David, is back at his college now. Only…” he checked through the long rectangular window in the door, then got back to us. “People are saying things about him—things that he’s supposedly done. Would you know anything about this?”

  Supposedly? He saw the fucking pictures for fuck’s sake.

  Josh and I looked at each other, then shrugged, our faces blank of all knowledge. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, drawing my brows together in a mask of confusion. “Maybe if you told me what this is…”

  He shook his head quickly. “I don’t think that’s appropriate.” He walked behind his desk—I didn’t move from where I was leaning against it—and opened his drawer, pulling something out. “These were discovered a few days after his car was found.” He held up a small, charred leather item, the dark-blue had turned black where the cow skin had melted. The other item was a burned up fob with filthy keys attached to it, and a phone with its screen smashed to bits. I had to hold in a laugh. “Do you know what these are?”

  “Should I?”

  “His keys, phone, and what remains of his wallet.”

  “Huh, would you look at that?” Josh studied the items, sending a quick puzzled look to me. “That looks like the newest smartphone, too. The camera on those things captures everything.” His mask slipped back on, and his eyes flicked to Mr. Cunningham.

  “Yeah,” I drew out, making sure my eyes were on him and staying there, so he understood what a fucking piece of shit he’d spewed from his balls. “Full HD. Shows every pore in your skin, I heard.” My lip curled up into a half-smile. “Every. Single. Detail.” Right then, my mind traveled to Kinsley with her camera, taking pictures of grass, trees, and possibly some of the students here. I wondered what she saw through the lens, if it was so different from what we saw around us.

  “So, yeah, we don’t know anything,” Josh said, lightly digging me in my ribs.

  I tipped my head toward the professor. “But please, Mr. Cunningham, do pass on our best wishes to him, would you?” I unfolded my arms, my leather jacket falling back into place, and pushed off of the desk. “We have another class starting soon, so while this has been delightful—” I coughed up a repressed chuckle as I spoke “—we can only say that we honestly don’t give a shit.”

  “But, thank you for bringing your concerns to us.” Josh eyed the phone in the prof’s hand. “Shouldn’t the police have those? I mean, they are evidence after all," he added, following me out. “Interesting,” he said when we were clear of the prof’s ears. “I don’t recall any of his shit being found anywhere near the site his car was discovered. Plus, that phone has everything on it, so why does he have it?”

  “I didn’t need it anymore,” I replied. “I got what I was after, then dumped it.” It was better that Josh didn’t know all of the details of what I’d done, because if anything did come back to me, he wouldn’t be a part of it. David Cunningham got what was coming to him, and I’d seen the evidence to prove it.

  “So, you smashed up the only thing to prove what he did?” he whisper-shouted.

  I shook my head. “No fucking way.” I chuckled under my breath. “Daddy knows exactly what his boy’s been up to. It’s up to him to do something about it now before somebody else does.”

  That somebody being me.

  Now I had a little time before English class after lunch, the time when I was going to face Kinsley after the debacle at the beach. I was fucking starving, and she was the main course.

  Kinsley

  “Why won’t you tell me?” Miley whined. She’d bugged me non-stop since Friday night. “
It was definitely something, Kinsley, we all saw the two of you.”

  I rubbed my forehead, stress building behind my eyes from the constant questioning due to Quinn’s butting in. Not to mention the absurd conversation that followed.

  “Yeah, it looked pre-tty heated,” Phoebe said, her micro-bladed brows arching at the same time she looked down her nose at me, her lips pouting for extra effect. “I’d go as far as to say it was a lover’s quarrel.”

  “It wasn’t,” I stated, so fucking sick of it already. We weren’t dating, never were, never would be, but it was like the entire campus knew details about some relationship I wasn’t part of.

  “So, you were pissed at him for…?” Rachel asked, her voice trailing off and an expectant look in her brown eyes.

  I shook my head. “Sticking his nose where it wasn’t wanted,” I offered, hoping that would satisfy them.

  “And where was that?” Miley cut in before Rachel could say anything more.

  I guess I was wrong.

  “Okay, fine. Colby asked if I wanted to go to a party with him, I was about to say no, but Quinn,” I bit out, “decided to answer for me. Instead of yelling in front of everybody, we took it away from the party where I could tell him how much of an ass he is.”

  The girls laughed, but Phoebe’s didn’t reach her eyes. “And he just let you talk to him like that? With no repercussions?” her voice was quizzical but also probing. I didn’t like it at all. It was not only unnerving but also gave me the impression that she was accusing Quinn of something. Her filled pout stretched into a smile, and she flicked her long dark hair over her shoulder. “Anyway, I have to go. I’m meeting a friend in a few. Ciao, girls.”

  I watched her leave, swaying her hips under her baby pink skirt, her steps not too big in the tight, knee-length fabric. Her cream-colored sweater accentuated her small waist, the three-quarter sleeves showing off her gold bracelets.

  “I have to go, too,” Rachel said around a small amount of food. “I don’t have any more classes today, and I’d rather not stick around this place any longer than necessary.” She stood and straightened out her flowing baby-blue peasant blouse, and smoothed her hands down the front of her jean-style leggings. “See you girls tomorrow night.”

  “What’s happening tomorrow?” I asked when Rachel had left.

  Miley shuffled closer to me on the bench. “Movies. We’re going to see the new romantic comedy at the Astoria. Will you come? I told the girls I’d ask you, but I didn’t want you to be put on the spot by asking you in front of them.”

  “Oh, thanks,” I said, taken aback. Even though I wasn’t particularly fond of Phoebe, and Rachel was growing on me, I liked Miley, which surprised me a lot. “Sure. I haven’t been to the movies in forever.”

  She clapped her hands. “Yay! This is going to be so much fun. It’s called Fool’s-Gold Rush In, and it’s about a group of people who go searching for gold, but two of them get lost on the trail. It starts at nine.” She looked around, scanning the area, then came even closer to me. “So, what happened between you and Quinn?”

  I dropped my head into my hands and let out a loud groan. “Not this again. Why is it so important?”

  “Well, because of who he is for starters,” Miley clapped back with a little more snip than I’d expected from her. I lifted up to see her brows drawn together and her eyes wide in shock.

  “I don’t give a fuck who he is.” I shook my head. “At all. He’s just a guy who stepped in when he shouldn’t have. We’re not together.”

  Miley reared back, her jaw falling open. “Seriously? He’s the obligatory bad boy.” Her dreamy expression turned away from me. “Leather jacket, tattoos, motorcycle, gets into trouble…” She sighed, looked off into the distance for a little longer, then seemed to snap out of it. “Every school has to have one—Quinn’s ours.”

  Did she just talk about him like he was an accessory?

  “Because he fits the stereotype?” I asked with a shrug. She had to be joking. “There were plenty of bad boys at my old campus, and none of them looked or acted like Quinn.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “How so?”

  I drew in a long breath. “Well, none of them wore facial injuries like a fashion statement. They drove expensive cars, wore designer clothes, didn’t have a hair out of place, and didn’t own a single leather jacket between them. They were polite, courteous, and were never late to a goddam thing.” It was clear, then, just how much I’d noticed about Quinn.

  Miley huffed. “Sounds boring if you ask me.”

  “No,” I drew out, my tone low. “Never judge a single person by what they look like. Never underestimate just how sick and twisted an upstanding citizen can be.” I stood from the bench, grabbed my empty lunch bag, and turned to leave. I stopped to add my last point. “Some bad boys wear blazers and slacks, Miley, and they have people eating out of the palm of their fucking hand.”

  “Kins—”

  “I gotta get to class,” I cut in. “If I don’t see you sooner, I’ll see you tomorrow for the movie.”

  I made my way toward English class, the narrow, off-white hallways so much shorter than Crosshall. That was a good thing. In there, it took forever to get from one place to the next. The size of the buildings made it difficult to get to classes on time, even if they were scheduled close together. There was never a time when I wasn’t there at the last second for my Art class right after English in the lecture hall. They were on opposite sides of campus, too far to take a relaxing stroll.

  Here, though, my classes were close together in distance, but not so much in time. I had far too much of that to keep my obsessive thoughts at bay. It’d even gotten so bad that I’d stopped taking as many photo’s away from college, choosing instead to wallow in my room and search social media for any trace of what had happened.

  I’d found not a single thing. Not a hint, not a whisper, nada. Like Owen had never happened, or me. I’d been removed from everything Crosshall as though I’d never existed in a place I’d lived all my life. Until now.

  I walked into the room, keeping my head down, and ignored the whispers around me. God, it was much like after… But their words weren’t the same, I had to remember that. These people were curious, wondering what was going on between their hero and me. How he got that title, I didn’t know, because he was anything but. He was just a huge pain in my ass.

  “Hey, Kinsley,” Josh greeted me when I sat.

  I didn’t look in his direction. “Hey, Josh.” I took out my notebook and pens, pausing when a searing heat scorched my side.

  “Hi there.” Quinn’s voice rumbled, causing me to wince.

  There was no reason for me to react like that other than to stop me from clapping back with an immature response to nothing.

  Jesus, get a hold of yourself, Kinsley.

  I was angry for no reason, I knew that. Quinn hadn’t done anything but greet me, and I was ready to take his head off. I needed a relaxing getaway for, maybe, a month, or to see a therapist because I was close to losing my shit for absolutely nothing except his mere presence.

  “Something wrong?” he asked, still leaning toward me.

  “Nope.” I added a pop to the ‘p’ like the wonderful adult I was. Yeah, I had to tell myself that; I was acting like a petulant child.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “The sky,” I blurted out. Dear God, I was five years old all over again.

  “Actually,” he fired back, “the sky’s nothing but a vast emptiness, so it can’t be up if it doesn’t technically exist.”

  I turned to glare at him. “Oh, bite me.”

  “Children, please,” Josh said, leaning forward to watch the match between us. “Behave yourselves, or there’s no ice-cream after school.”

  “He started it,” I said before I could stop myself. I closed my eyes, embarrassment heating me from my feet up, the fire blazing higher and higher until it settled where everyone could get a good look. Right in my face.

  A deep
laugh came from beside me. Quinn’s head had dropped back as he howled with laughter. I stared at him long enough to notice his mouth open wide, showing me a side view of his teeth. White, straight—from what I could see—and Oh. My. God. He had fangs. Actual pointy fangs that turned a nice smile into sexy as hell.

  He straightened and faced me, humor still shining in his eyes, and I froze. Yeah, he had the perfect smile, perfect lips, perfect eyes, and I hated him.

  Why do I hate him again?

  I lost my train of thought. My fixation on Quinn’s apparent happiness so intense it would rival a stalker.

  His smile slowly faded, the light dimming from his expression, his jaw hardening to the face I’d come to get used to. “Damn, you’re so fucking stuck up,” he snapped. “Little Miss. Crosshall too good for Broken Hollow?”

  My insides dropped, a cold chasm replacing the warmth I’d felt a few moments ago. “What did you say?” I whispered. I hadn’t told him where I was from, only Colby, and I doubted that he would’ve said anything to Quinn after the beach.

  He leaned toward me, his cold eyes boring into mine. “You heard me,” he sneered but low enough that only I would hear him. “Crosshall Brow College. That’s where you were before here, right?”

  “Who the hell told you?” I whispered.

  Quinn snorted, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Nobody.” A satisfied expression spread across his face as he sat back against his chair, making himself comfortable. “Other than you.”

  “What? No, I didn’t,” I argued, because I hadn’t uttered a single word to him about it, and I wasn’t about to.

  “Sure you did.” He faced the front of the class where Mr. Stanson was talking away like we weren’t there. “You just didn’t know it.”

  My heart galloped in my chest, fire burned in my stomach, and adrenaline poured fuel on the flames licking against my skin. If I didn’t get out of there soon, I was going to explode, and it wouldn’t be fun for anybody, least of all me. Who was I kidding, there’d be popcorn and sodas handed out while Quinn sat back and admired his handiwork.