by Monica James
Sitting on the curb, I can no longer hear what the boys are talking about, but after Tristan’s confession, I don’t want to hear what he has to say, and that’s because a small part of me knows he has feelings for me. But he had feelings for Paige, not Mia.
Quinn is looking at me, while listening to something Tristan is saying. The way his eyes rake over me, I know they’re talking about me.
I not only have one incredible man trying to protect me, putting his life in danger for me… I now have two. But I could never live with myself if anything happened to Tristan—again.
“I’ve got an awesome idea,” Quinn says, bumping me with his shoulder as he sits near me after he ends his call to Tristan.
“What’s that?” I ask, looking at him.
“Let’s go find a liquor store, and drink it.”
I laugh because at the moment, there’s nothing else I would rather do.
Chapter 20
Drunken Confessions
Once we’re checked into the hotel, I feel terrible for my insensitive jab, and invite Justin to join us for drinks after he’s finished his work. Quinn hates me right now, as his stress free night of getting drunk and forgetting our troubles has just taken a nosedive.
But I feel horrible, as Justin is helping us out without even realizing how much so.
I decide I need new clothes, seeing as I left the majority of my things in New Orleans. A thrift shop down the road is the perfect place to pick up some cheap clothing. Quinn was in the shower when I left, which was good, because I need some alone time after speaking with Tristan. Why do I have a feeling our conversation was one-sided? Deep down, I have an awful premonition that regardless of mine and Quinn’s warnings, Tristan will come find us.
However, trying to focus on the task at hand, I pick out some cool, cheap items for Quinn and me, and figure that’ll do us for now.
As I exit, I pull my newly purchased jacket lapels over my face, as the cold December breeze has picked up.
Jolly fat Santa decals and fairy lights are displayed in every shop front, preparing shoppers for the mad Christmas rush. I wonder where I’ll be spending Christmas this year. I’m hoping it’s not in a 6x8 cell, or dead.
Shaking those thoughts aside, I ride the elevator up to our floor and find Quinn walking around the bedroom in only a small towel. The towel barely covers anything, and if he shifts the wrong way, I’ll be getting an eyeful.
I quickly turn my back, not really knowing why, as I’ve seen him nude before.
“Hi?” Quinn asks my back, phrasing it as a question, as he’s obviously just as puzzled by my weird behavior as I am.
“Er, hi,” I reply.
“Whatcha doing?” he asks, laughing.
“I don’t know,” I reply, as I suddenly feel shy.
We haven’t spoken about what went down (literally) in the hotel room back in New Orleans, seeing as we had other important matters to deal with, like not falling to our deaths.
Quinn and I have said, in a roundabout way, that we’re dating. But he hasn’t actually said, “Red, I want you to be my girlfriend.” But do people even do that anymore? Have that talk?
After tasting Quinn and feeling him in every pore of my body, I would be a liar if I said I haven’t thought about sex. What would he feel like? And why do I have a feeling once it happens, Quinn will own me; mind, body and soul? I’ve never wanted to do that with anyone—ever. But with Quinn, it’s all I can think about when he’s near me, especially when he’s half nude.
“Why have you gone shy all of a sudden? You certainly weren’t shy back in New Orleans. Or in the truck,” Quinn says seductively into my ear.
He’s leaning into my back, and I hope to God he’s put pants on, as the thought of a pantless Quinn, pressed up against me, has my breathing coming out in loud puffs, totally giving my thoughts away.
Thankfully as Quinn steps into view, I see he has indeed slipped into a pair of track pants, but no shirt. My eyes dip to his navel, which is perfectly covered in a fine dusting of soft, dark hair, which leads into his low slung pants.
Will I ever get used to seeing him without my heart ending up in my throat?
“What’s the matter?” he asks, taking a step toward me.
I raise my eyes to meet his inquisitive emerald orbs.
“I was just thinking,” I respond.
“About?” Quinn prompts.
“About what happened between us back in New Orleans.”
Quinn raises his eyebrow. “You want to be a little more specific?” he smirks, knowing damn well what I’m talking about.
“Never mind,” I say, shrugging it off. “Anyway, I bought you some stuff,” I say, hoping to evade this topic as I rifle through the plastic bags.
Quinn is about to rebuke me, but Justin chooses that moment to enter, and thankfully put an end to this awkward conversation.
***
Happy’s Bar and Grill is anything but happy.
Looking at my untouched burger, I internally apologize to all the starving kids in the world, because there is no way I can eat my meal. I feel like I’m about to be sick. Justin is at the bar, waiting in line to get another pitcher of beer, and I wish Quinn would quit it with the death stares.
“Would you please stop looking at him like he’s The Antichrist?” I sigh, pushing at my fries.
Quinn’s eyes are narrowed, and he’s rubbing his stubbled jaw, deep in thought.
“I don’t trust him, Red. There is something off about him. I just can’t put my finger on it,” he replies, still eyeing Justin.
I blow out a frustrated breath. “Quinn, please. Just till we get to Canada.”
“Yeah, well, Canada is over 1000 miles away. And he’s about zero miles away from me strangling him,” he replies, tossing back his beer.
I don’t know what it is about Justin that Quinn despises so much. Apart from the occasional longing stare, or lingering touch, Justin is harmless.
***
After one too many pitchers of beer, I decide the next girl who accidentally on purpose touches Quinn will lose a finger.
There’s something about Quinn, and it’s not just his phenomenal looks. His ego alone is enough to fill a room, but it’s his presence and his confident, cocky demeanor which seems to attract insecure people, hoping to bask in his confidence.
I can’t help but watch him as he casually stands at the bar, surrounded by bleached blonde barflies. Justin is talking to me about something, and I know I’m being extremely rude peering over his shoulder watching Quinn, but I’m hoping his drunken brain won’t notice.
But he does.
“You really like him, huh?” he asks.
My eyes snap to his sheepishly, totally busted. “Sorry,” I say with a small smile.
Justin shakes his head. “It’s nice to see you smile.”
I am anything but smiling at the moment, but I guess he’s referring to the times when Quinn and I don’t want to throttle one another.
“It’s nice to smile,” I reply, sipping my beer.
“You were at school, but not really there, if you know what I mean,” Justin comments, fiddling with a coaster.
“I know exactly what you mean,” I reply, as I had more important stuff to deal with other than Algebra, like delivering drugs, and being a parent to my dad.
“Don’t judge me, but I had the biggest crush on you,” Justin randomly says, his eyes lowered by his confession.
I blush, taken aback. “Really?” I ask, incredulous.
“Yeah, you were such a badass. I think every guy had a crush on you,” he confirms, nodding.
What now? I don’t think so. I was the brunt of everyone’s jokes, and I accepted that.
“Trust me, Mia,” Justin says when he sees my reaction. And here I thought I was invisible in school.
He reaches across the table, surprising me by taking my hand. I don’t have time to pull it back. “This is kind of pathetic, but no one has even come close to blowing my socks off lik
e you did when we kissed.”
Suddenly, I feel extremely uncomfortable and want my hand back. I pull back subtly, but he won’t let go.
“What are you running from, Mia?” he inexplicably asks, drawing my hand toward him.
Again, I attempt to pull back, but his grip is strong.
“What makes you think I’m running from anything?” I ask, my breath coming out in small pants, confused by his question.
“We’re all running from something,” he replies, dropping his eyes, focusing on a patch of spilled beer in the center of the table.
“What are you running from?” I ask, suddenly feeling a chill pass over my body.
“I’m not running away from everything, Mia. You could say I am running towards it.”
“Towards what?” I question, suddenly seeing a side to Justin I never knew existed.
“Revenge,” he simply replies, meeting my eyes.
I’ve seen that look before. It’s one I see every day in the mirror. Justin has obviously lost someone he loved, and is seeking retribution.
I was too wrapped up in my bullshit to remember much about Justin, other than the fact he was deemed a freak, just like me. His family life was rough, but whose wasn’t? Unless you were the fucking Brady Bunch, then every family had their problems.
The two times we kissed were neither earth shattering, nor sock blowing. The first time was under the bleachers, near the gymnasium, and I felt vulnerable and tired after my dad was on one of his three day benders. And the second time was at some party where we were two misfits, wanting to belong.
After the non-eventful kiss, I saw Justin now and then in the hallways at school, but like I said, at that stage my dad was so far gone, I was more at home than at school, trying to fix his problems. I failed senior year, eventually dropping out.
It was safe to say Justin was the furthest thing from my mind. But it’s funny how you can make an impact on someone’s life, without even realizing it.
“We all good here?” Quinn asks, slamming the pitcher of beer so hard on the table it spills over the sides.
I pull back my hand, and thankfully this time, Justin lets go.
“Red?” Quinn questions, sitting near me when I don’t reply.
“Yup, all good,” I mumble, reaching for my glass and downing my beer.
Justin smirks, seeming to enjoy the discomfort between Quinn and me.
“Excuse me, I gotta make a call,” he says, standing up and heading outside.
I can feel Quinn’s eyes pinning me with a heated stare, and I bravely meet his gaze.
“What?” I ask, knowing full well why he’s scowling.
“What did I tell you? As long as he keeps his hands to himself, he’ll be fine. But the minute my back is turned, that motherfucker has his hands all over you,” he says, looking over my shoulder to where Justin went.
“He was not all over me. We were just talking about—” and I pause.
Oh shit, I need to shut up. Telling Quinn Justin had the biggest crush on me and still fantasizes about our kisses is not helping my case.
“About what?” he asks, leaning back into his seat.
“Nothing. Forget I said anything.”
“No, I will not. The more I’m around this guy, the fishier he gets. I didn’t like him from the get go, but there’s something off about him. Him just popping up, offering to help and expecting nothing in return is damn strange. Unless…”
“Unless what?” I ask, interested to hear Quinn’s thoughts.
“Unless he expects payment in the form of you.” Quinn spits and his jaw clenches.
“What?” I gasp. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it?” Quinn questions, raising an eyebrow.
“What do you know about this guy, Red? Apart from being an old flame from school?” The word flame has never sounded so dirty.
“He’s here on business.” I sigh, growing annoyed with this conversation as I take a big sip of my beer.
“So he says. What business? And why is his God damn phone going off every thirty seconds?”
“You’re just suspicious of everyone!” I say angrily, wiping my lips with the back of my hand, as I don’t actually know why he’s always on his phone.
“No, I’m realistic. When a guy offers to drive a girl halfway across the country without expecting anything in return, something isn’t right. The only reason I’m not breaking his nose is because you’ve asked me not to, and to trust you on this. And you’re right; he is our best option at the moment, allowing us to fly under the radar. But that doesn’t mean I have to like him.”
“Why don’t you like him?” I ask, as I really don’t understand. Justin seems harmless to me.
“Because I don’t like the way he looks at you when you’re not looking.”
I cock my eyebrow, as this is news to me.
“He looks at you,” Quinn explains, “like he wants to fuck you, or fuck you over. I just haven’t figured out which yet.”
My mouth falls open, because both options are horrible.
“You’re wrong,” I say, unconvincingly.
“I hope I am.”
But now that the seed of doubt is planted, I’m afraid it’ll just grow.
Justin returns, slipping his cell into his jeans before sitting down.
I give him a small smile, hoping I don’t look guilty, but I can’t help it as Quinn’s words repeat in my head.
Why would Justin want to fuck me over?
Chapter 21
Heartbeats
The banging on our bedroom door has me shooting up in bed, reminiscent of the last time there was someone knocking at our door, and that time wasn’t good, as it was the police. Quinn is sleeping peacefully near me, curled onto his side, his head resting on my pillow.
I can’t run again, I just can’t.
Thankfully, the banging ceases and Justin’s soft voice echoes outside our door. “Mia? Are you awake?”
The bedside clock reads 3:34a.m. What does he want?
Silently slipping out of bed, not wanting to wake Quinn, I grab his hoodie off the floor and slip it on before opening the door and stepping out to face Justin.
“Everything okay?” I ask, because he looks a little stressed out as he slips his cell into his back pocket.
Justin rubs the back of his neck before he replies. “Um, yeah. Sorry to wake you,” he apologizes.
“It’s fine, what’s up?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, as the room has dropped to an arctic temperature.
“Um, plans have changed, and I don’t have to stay here anymore. Wanna head out, first light?”
This is great news, as the sooner we hit the road, the better—but I can’t help but wonder what’s changed. And what work Justin is involved in. We all have our secrets, God knows I have enough for the both of us, but I feel unsettled not knowing why exactly Justin is headed for Canada.
“That’s great,” I whisper, not wanting to wake Quinn. “What changed?” I ask, hoping to get some answers from him.
Justin sniffs, looking away, and I don’t like it.
“Oh, um…” He pauses.
“What’s going on?”
I spin around quickly, knowing this doesn’t look good. Quinn meets my guilty eyes, waiting for an answer.
“Justin just wanted to let me know that we can leave first light, as he doesn’t have to stay here after all,” I reply on a breath.
“Hmm,” Quinn replies, his arms crossed over his bare chest in defiance. “And this couldn’t wait till morning?”
Justin speaks up, and this is the first time he has addressed Quinn in hours. “Sorry, dude, my bad. I just wanted to let you guys know. I’m not much of a sleeper, and forget that other people are.”
Justin’s attempt at a joke falls flat on its ass, as Quinn grunts in response, his eyes narrowed. “Whatever, dude.”
I’m so sick of this bullshit between them. Quinn isn’t helping this situation by attacking Justin, and Justin being vague all
the time is totally making me suspicious of his intentions.
I turn on my heel in frustration. “Well, if you two are done being little bitches, I’m going to sleep.”
I stomp into the bedroom, not caring if Quinn is following. If he and Justin need to have a fight, or whatever boys do to prove who the bigger man is, then so be it. I’m sick of playing peacemaker between two polar opposites.
I slip under the covers, hoping to catch at least twenty minutes’ sleep. But I know I won’t, as this whole fucked up situation keeps getting worse and worse. I don’t know where my dad is, and I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, afraid I’ll see him or the police. I just can’t seem to catch a break.
And with Justin and Quinn at each other’s throats, I honestly don’t know what else to do. As much as I hate it, Justin is the only way for us to remain undetected. I just wish Quinn could get over whatever issue he has with Justin, as I don’t know what else I can do to show him that I’m his.
“I’m sorry, Red.”
Sighing, I roll onto my side away from Quinn, as I don’t want to talk to him right now.
“Don’t ignore me. I’m sorry, okay?”
The resolve in his tone tells me that he is, but I still remain silent.
The bed dips and I feel a set of strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me toward a familiar chest.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” Quinn whispers close to my ear, his hair tickling my cheek.
“‘I’m not mad,” I reply unconvincingly.
“And please don’t lie to me,” Quinn says on a sigh.
Quinn is right, maybe if I tell him how I feel, like really tell him how I feel, he’ll stop with this bullshit jealousy crap with Justin.
Shifting slowly to face him, Quinn’s grip on my waist slackens, allowing me to turn. He’s the most handsome man I have ever seen, and he’s insane if he believes I would ever want anyone other than him.
“I’m not mad,” I reiterate. “‘I’m just tired. This whole situation we’re in, the situation that I’ve put you in—it makes me sick, Quinn. I hate that you’re in this situation because of me. And I hate that you have to play nice with Justin, because I know you just want to hang him up by his balls and let the wildlife have their way with him.”