When We First Met

by Cara Bastone

  “Do you want to be with her or do you want to break up?” Quentin asked point blank.

  Jared sagged as he slid a plate of pasta across the counter to Quentin. His head lolled to one side, a defeated look on his face. “Neither. But, you know, I guess breaking up is the closest to what I want.”

  “Then you have to stick to it, man. It’s not fair to either of you to drag this out. Both of you deserve to move on.” Quentin scooped the salad that he’d made onto Jared’s plate and watched his cousin’s face carefully. It wasn’t often that he inserted himself into anyone’s life, and the feeling was distinctly uncomfortable.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Jared said after a long moment. “If you were going to try for a fresh start, how would you go about it?”

  Quentin, not having had very many relationships to “fresh start” his way out of, racked his brain for healthy suggestions. “Hmm. Join a rec league for soccer? Meet some new people? You always said you wanted to get a short story published. You could work on that. Or, I don’t know, maybe date?”

  “Ding ding ding!” Jared sang, pointing across the counter toward Quentin. “We have a winner. I’ll go on some dates. I could definitely stand to get laid.”

  In Quentin’s eyes, Jared got laid plenty, in or out of his relationship with Lara. He should know; they shared a bedroom wall. “That’s not exactly what I—”

  “I’ll go out and meet somebody. Somebody amazing. You know, Lara was always so serious about her nine-to-five. Maybe I need to be with someone more...” He snapped his fingers, searching for the word. “Artsy. Yeah. Someone really creative. You know, like one of those girls who lives in an artists’ loft and wears overalls with paint smeared on them.” Jared was really starting to perk up now that he was a man with a plan.

  “Oh. Yeah. One of those girls,” Quentin said drily. Only Jared would actually believe those girls existed outside of rom-coms written by men.

  “Yeah,” Jared said, obviously warming to his genius idea. “Gotta get back out there. Can’t keep a good man down. Fish in the sea, et cetera, et cetera.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Jared was practically inhaling his food now. “This is good,” he decided. “This’ll be a good thing. I’ll do a little mambo Italiano and recalibrate my world view.”

  “I...don’t even know what that means,” Quentin said with a laugh.

  “Well, that’s your problem, Q. You need to learn how to get messy every once in a while. Life is better when it’s a little bit rocky.” He scraped the last of his pasta sauce off his plate with the side of his fork. “Why do you think I’ve dated Lara for this long?”

  Quentin opened his mouth but clapped it closed when he couldn’t think of a response. “Huh.”

  “Trust me, man,” Jared said, clearing his plate away. “The smoothest road is the most boring one.”

  Chapter Five

  CAT TUGGED HER door open with a toothy smile on her face. She’d just checked the peephole and seen Quentin knocking.

  “Hi!”

  “Wow” was his answer, his eyebrows up in his hairline. “You’re looking very...green.”

  “Oh, right. I didn’t think I was going to have any visitors. Come on in while I wash the mask off.”

  She waved him into her apartment and scampered into the bathroom to wash the avocado and seaweed mask off her face. She looked down at her yoga pants and T-shirt and considered changing her clothes. But after all, it was just Quentin; she could be comfortable around him.

  When she went back into her living room, he was bent down, reading the titles on her bookshelf.

  “You really like romance novels,” he observed.

  “The finest form of escapism, as far as I’m concerned. It’s like a vacation in book form. And since I’m a public school teacher, those are the only kinds of vacations I can afford.”

  “I get that,” he said, straightening up. “The escapism thing, I mean. I’m pretty into fantasy novels for the same reason.” He winced. “Dang. Probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. Now you’re going to think I’m an even bigger nerd than you already do.”

  Cat cocked her head in confusion. “Have I ever called you a nerd?”

  He blinked at her for a second. “No, but with the train set and everything... I just assumed.” He cleared his throat. “Anyways, I came over to invite you to watch a movie with me and Jared. You said you wanted help getting to know him. So, yeah. Come on over.”

  He backed up toward the door but Cat’s mind was still on the whole nerd thing. He thought that she thought that he was a nerd. Why? It bothered her that she’d made him feel that way, because she really didn’t think that about him. He was cool and interesting and fun. And, looking at him now in his joggers and V-neck T-shirt, he looked casually cool.

  Actually, if she were being honest, he looked handsome. She hadn’t really thought that before now, because he didn’t have that knock-you-in-the-teeth sort of prettiness that Jared had, but Quentin was definitely handsome. He had broad, even features, a good strong jaw and blue eyes the color of a quilt that had been washed a thousand times. Faded, friendly, warm.

  “Cat, are you coming?”

  “Oh.” She shook her head a little to break her reverie. She’d been daydreaming about Quentin when she should have been getting ready to see Jared. “Right. Just gimme a second and I’ll change.”

  “Why?” Quentin asked, his head cocked to the side.

  Cat looked down at her attire. “Because I’m in yoga pants and a T-shirt.”

  “You don’t have to change.” Quentin, pink in the cheeks, dragged a hand over the top of his head, straightening his coppery hair. “Trust me, guys like yoga pants.”

  He held her eyes for half a second longer than she expected and something in his expression made her stomach swoop. “Oh. Okay.”

  Feeling a little flustered, she followed Quentin into his apartment.

  “Hey, Jared, we’re ready to watch whenever you are!” Quentin called. He waited a second, and when he didn’t hear anything, he headed toward Jared’s room. A moment later he came back out, a confused expression on his face. “That’s so weird. He was just here.”

  “He’s not here?” She should probably feel disappointed that her hookup was thwarted once again, but she was just happy that she got to spend some time with Quentin.

  “I guess he went out?” Quentin scratched at his head. “Sorry for the false alarm.”

  “That’s okay. What’re we watching?”

  “You’re gonna stay?”

  “Yeah! A movie sounds good.” She made herself comfy on his couch, pulling an afghan down to cover her legs and fluffing one of the couch pillows behind her.

  “Um. Okay. You want popcorn or something? Or let’s see... I have pretzels and some muffins.”

  “Yes to all,” she said happily, picking up the remote and flipping through the channels. This was shaping up to be a really fun night.

  He laughed. “You want all of it?”

  She turned and put one arm along the back of the couch, eyeing him where he stood in the kitchen. “I’m starving. I haven’t had dinner yet.”

  “Oh. Okay. Why don’t you choose something for us to watch? Anything is fine with me.”

  A few minutes later Cat was blinking down at a tray of food being set on her lap. There was a heated-up bowl of spaghetti and meatballs, a little plate of salad and a slice of thick brown bread. A glass of icy lemonade sat in the corner, condensation dripping down the side.

  She looked up at Quentin in surprise. “You made me dinner.”

  “It’s just leftovers. Nothing special. If you’re still hungry afterward you can have the popcorn and pretzels. But I figured someone who regularly eats pie for breakfast could stand to eat a nice round meal every now and then.”

  She stared down at the tray again. “I don’t remember
the last time someone made me dinner. You even gave me lemonade. That’s my favorite drink.”

  “I know. It’s what you ordered at the bar the other night.”

  Thinking of the bar made Cat think of Quentin’s friend Sylvie. It made her think of the napkin Sylvie had written her phone number on for Quentin. Where was that napkin now? Had Quentin called the number yet? Would Quentin make a tray of leftovers for Sylvie too?

  “So, what are we watching?” Quentin asked, settling on the other side of the couch.

  Cat felt strange, nervous and not sure why, but she wasn’t going to let it ruin her night. “Star Wars.”

  “Really?” His head was cocked, a funny little smile making his eyes sparkle in surprise.

  “What’s wrong with Star Wars?” she asked.

  “Absolutely nothing. I just thought for sure you’d have chosen a rom-com.”

  “Because of all the romance novels?”

  “Um. Yeah.” He looked away.

  “And...” she prompted, reaching across the couch with one socked foot and prodding him in the thigh.

  “And what?” He still wasn’t looking at her.

  “And what’s the other reason you thought I’d choose a rom-com? There’s something you’re not saying out loud. Come on!”

  She prodded him again with her foot and this time he caught her by the arch, trapping her foot against his leg and preventing her from poking at him. When he turned to look at her, those friendly blue eyes had a spark lighting them from within. Nerves? Or was it something else?

  “Remember that night we first talked? The party?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “When you were in my room you called me ‘cute.’”

  “I remember.” It hadn’t made her blush then, so why was the memory of it making her blush now?

  “And to me—I don’t know—the tone of your voice or something, it indicated that the kind of ‘cute’ you were talking about was the kind that watches girlie movies with you on the other end of the couch.”

  “Oh.” She was all turned around now, like a ship in foggy weather. She wasn’t sure what exactly he was saying and what exactly he wasn’t saying.

  His thumb suddenly stroked hard against the arch of her foot, loosening a muscle that she hadn’t realized was tight.

  She swallowed down a gasp, her bottom lip getting caught between her teeth.

  “Was I right?” he asked in a low voice, his eyes still on hers.

  “Oh,” she repeated, still trying to regain her bearings. “I...don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about it that hard.” She cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes playfully at him. “You should know me well enough by now to know that sometimes I just say stuff.”

  “Right.” His hand released her foot but his eyes stayed on hers. “You should eat while it’s still warm.”

  He turned to get the movie started and Cat took the opportunity to gather herself a little bit. She took a deep breath and started in on the meal, the familiar opening credits rolling.

  When she was finished with her food, Quentin wordlessly relieved her of the tray and came back a minute later with two bowls of ice cream.

  She glanced over as he sat and was startled by the pang of disappointment she felt when he was just as far away as he’d been at the beginning of the movie. The kind of cute that watches rom-coms at the other end of the couch. What did that even mean?

  “Do you want some blanket?” she heard herself ask, scooting toward him, her ice cream in one hand and the blanket in the other. “The ice cream must be making you cold.”

  “Sure.” He pulled his half of the blanket over his lap, his eyes on the side of her face as she stared rigidly at the screen. She’d seen this movie a hundred and two times and for the life of her she couldn’t have explained what was happening on screen.

  Why was she sweating? Jeez. There was still a foot of space between them, but every little movement he made caught her attention. When he set his empty bowl on the coffee table and leaned back, she held her breath. When one long arm lifted up and rested on the back of the couch, she swore her heart got stuck on the downbeat. This was crazy. This was Quentin. Her friend Quentin! She should not be acting like such a basket case!

  What had she meant when she’d called him cute? She’d been having so much fun with him it had just popped out. Girlie movies on the other end of the couch. Maybe he was right and she had really been unintentionally calling him...nonsexual? Yeesh. Nobody wanted to be thought of that way. Even by their friends.

  Cat paused the movie, the trash compactor ten feet from squeezing Luke and Leia and Han into Spam. She kicked her knee onto the couch between them as she turned to face him.

  “Quentin—”

  BAMBAMBAM.

  She jumped six inches into the air as someone attempted to take the front door off the hinges with their fist.

  “Holy hell!” Cat stared at the door as the incredibly loud pounding happened again.

  “I’ll go see who it is,” Quentin said into her ear. It was only then that Cat realized she’d jumped straight into his lap. Her heart pounded like a sprinter running stairs. Quentin’s hands gently touched her hips and she slid off of him.

  She watched him walk to the door, her eyes wide, one hand on her chest, unsure if she was feeling this way because of the unexpected visitor or because she’d just been sitting in Quentin’s lap.

  He looked through the peephole and rested his forehead against the wooden door for a moment. He took a deep breath and swung the door open. “Hi, Lara.”

  “Hi, Quentin,” said the stunning woman who Cat had seen smash Jared’s phone last weekend.

  “Jared’s not here,” Quentin told her.

  She pushed past him into the apartment, taking her high heels off and lining them up beside the door. Cat couldn’t help but notice that the woman had a gorgeous pedicure. Actually, she was kind of objectively perfect in every way. Long, trim figure, not a hair out of place. She sort of looked like the kind of woman who would betray James Bond and turn out to be the evil genius at the end of the movie.

  “Thanks,” she said, glancing at Cat.

  “Oh, my gosh. Did I say that out loud?” Cat asked the room.

  “Yes,” Quentin replied, looking like he was having a very hard time keeping a straight face.

  “Where is he, then?” the woman, Lara, asked Quentin.

  “I have no idea. He had dinner and then left.”

  “I assume he hasn’t gotten a replacement phone yet?” Lara asked, injecting a fair amount of haughtiness into her tone, but something in her eyes spoke of regret. Embarrassment.

  “Not yet.” Quentin must have seen the look in her eyes as well because he spoke gently.

  “Okay, well. Can I just wait here for him to get back, then?” Lara’s hands went up to her hair, back to her hips, then just fell at her sides. She did not seem like a woman who was very accustomed to asking for permission.

  Quentin’s eyes flicked to Cat and Cat nodded her head.

  “Sure.”

  “You want some ice cream?” Cat offered. “We just had some.”

  “No...thank you.” The second half of the sentence was delayed enough to imply that that was another thing she wasn’t very accustomed to.

  “You’re offering up my ice cream?” Quentin muttered with a half smile as he plopped down on the couch again, this time close enough for his shoulder to brush Cat’s.

  “Oh.” She laughed. “Apparently. I guess in my mind, your ice cream is my ice cream?”

  “It’s like the opposite of mi casa es su casa.” He laughed. “‘Oh, you thought that was yours? Nah. It’s mine.’”

  She face palmed. “I told you I was a lot.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “And I told you. You’re not a lot. You’re the perfect amount.”

  “You two a
re cute,” Lara said softly from where she sat in the armchair at the other end of the couch.

  “Thanks!”

  “Oh, no, we’re not—” Quentin and Cat spoke at the same time but he cut himself off and looked down at her. “Did you say, ‘Thanks’?”

  “Uh—” For the second time that night, a noise at the door cut her off. All three of them turned and looked at the front door as the sound of a key scrabbling around for the lock sounded clearly through the room. On screen, the walls of the trash compactor still bore down on the cast.

  The door burst open and in stumbled Jared and a woman who appeared to be sucker-fished to his face.

  Jared’s hands were tangled in her hair as he turned her to the door, pushing her up against it, lifting her so that her combat boots dangled on either side of his hips.

  “Dude!” Quentin said, standing up from the couch and glancing toward Lara.

  Lara’s face was white as she slowly stood up, her eyes glued to the amorous couple.

  “Dude!” Quentin called again when his first attempt failed at getting his cousin to stop dry-humping in the living room. “JA-RED.”

  Jared looked back over his shoulder after Quentin called his name and did an almost comical double-take. His eyes were bleary and his lips swollen, his mussed hair tumbling over his forehead. He blinked at his ex-girlfriend.

  Slowly, the woman he was kissing slid back down to her feet and peeked around Jared’s body, her face a grimace of chagrin once she realized she had an audience. Then recognition dawned over her face and she buried her face in her hands.

  “Sylvie?” Cat gasped.

  “So,” Quentin said as he rocked back on his heels. “I guess you went to the Jarhouse to pick up girls and you ran into Sylvie, huh?”

  “Sylvie Peters?” Lara said, her hands on her hips, looking back and forth between Jared and Sylvie. “From middle school?”

  “Oh, my gosh.” Cat—horrified—peeked through her fingers. “I can’t believe you all went to middle school together. This is—Wow. This is really something.”