For All The Wrong Reasons

by Brownell, Rachael

  “Hey. Don’t you want to see how it looks?”

  “Nope. I’ll see it on Halloween. Do you like it?”

  “I love it.”

  “Good. That’s all that matters.”

  Seriously? He’s not going to turn around and look at me. He has to know my boobs are on display. That if I bend over he’ll have a perfect view of my ass. Considering I’m wearing a thong right now, he’d have a view of more than just my cheeks.

  Mental note to self: wear different undies next time.

  “I guess I’ll change, then,” I finally say when it’s clear he’s not turning around.

  Quinn is still waiting for me with his back turned when I reemerge from the dressing room. He’s pretending to browse a nearby rack of costumes, not paying any attention to the fact they’re for young kids.

  “So, now it’s time to pick your costume,” I say, tapping him on the shoulder and startling him.

  “That’s only fair,” he says, slowly moving to the next rack and continuing to browse. “Who am I going to be? How about this?”

  Quinn holds up a Joker costume that would fit a toddler and laughs at his own joke.

  “Well,” I start, walking past him and toward the section we found my costume, “I was originally thinking Aquaman. You know, bare chest, skintight pants that look painted on. You’d have to wear a wig, though. That buzz cut won’t cut it. Aquaman has long, flowing locks.”

  Rubbing my hand over his head, I nudge Quinn with my hip.

  It’s hard pretending we’re just friends. To ignore the way I feel about him. To push down every urge and desire I have for him. Before this blows up in our faces, I’d like to at least feel like his friend again. Even if just for a little while. Maybe it’ll make the transition easier when this is all said and done.

  If not, it was worth a shot. It’s not like I can lose him more than I already know I will.

  “But you’ve changed your mind, right?” You can hear the dread in his voice. I’m guessing because of the wig. I don’t think he would have a problem with being shirtless for the night. His body is defined. He has nothing to be ashamed of.

  “I have. If I’m going to be Wonder Woman, there’s only one superhero I can be seen with, and it’s not Aquaman.” I grab Quinn by the shoulders, then turn him back toward the dressing rooms and swat him on the ass.

  Mistake 1. That’s a nice ass. Firm.

  “Go. I’ll bring you your costume in a minute. I just need to find it.”

  He follows directions, disappearing behind the door of the dressing room I just came out of. After locating the costume, I stand on the other side of the door contemplating my decision for a few seconds before tossing it over.

  “I had a feeling this was who I was going to get,” Quinn says followed by the rustle of clothing. “Do you want to see it, or do you want to be surprised?”

  “Oh, I want to see it. Not just anyone can pull off Superman. It takes a special person, and if you don’t have it, we’re looking for an Aquaman outfit,” I tease.

  There’s no way in hell he won’t look good in that costume. If anyone was meant to be Superman, it’s Quinn. Not that I wouldn’t like to see him in the Aquaman outfit I saw online earlier. Maybe I should make him try it on just for fun.

  The door opens, almost hitting me in the face as I jump out of the way. I must have spaced out while I was conjuring a mental image of Quinn as Aquaman. It was a nice picture. One I won’t forget any time soon.

  But so is this one. And this one is real.

  Quinn. As Superman. In a spandex one-piece suit. Hugging his body in not only all the right places but all the wrong ones. It leaves little to the imagination, causing my body temperature to rise a few notches, a bead of sweat collecting at the nape of my neck.

  Mistake 2. Allowing myself to see Quinn in his costume. I now understand why he didn’t want to see me in mine. My plan to be playful and fun has backfired on me.

  “What do you think?”

  That’s a loaded question. Honesty will undo every lie I told him this morning. A lie won’t be believable. He knows how good he looks. The best thing I can do is avoid answering altogether.

  “Looks like you’re going to be Superman.”

  “Do they have a bigger size? This is a little snug,” he comments, tugging the material at the top of his thighs. It doesn’t budge.

  They have bigger sizes, I’m sure. Still, I find myself shaking my head. And Quinn . . . he just smiles and steps back inside the dressing room.

  By the time we’ve purchased our costumes and are walking out the door, I’m convinced Halloween is going to be the death of me. I’m going to break down and throw myself at him, destroying the carefully laid plan, after watching him walk around in that costume all night.

  “Dinner?” Quinn asks as I toss my costume in my backseat.

  “Sure. What are you in the mood for?”

  “Italian. I want pasta and breadsticks. Carb overload.”

  “Sounds good to me. There’s a place around the corner, or we can head to the mall and go to OG.”

  “Go ahead and head back to my place. I’ll pick food up and meet you there.” After, pulling his keys from his pocket, he quickly removes one silver key and places it in my palm. “Just in case the girls aren’t home yet.”

  Quinn places a quick kiss to my cheek before helping me into my car, and then he’s gone. His truck pulls out of the parking lot before I even have the chance to start my Jeep.

  He wants me to go to his house. Alone. And do what? Wait for him? I’m torn between wanting Tess and Kara to be there and wanting to be alone. What do I even say to them?

  This shouldn’t make me nervous. I’ve known them both for a while now. We’re not ‘friends’ per se, but we socialize. Tess is easier to be around than Kara, but only because of the simple fact Quinn wants Kara and she treats him like shit.

  Tess’s car isn’t in the driveway when I pull in, but Kara’s motorcycle is. I contemplate waiting for Quinn before going inside, but my bladder has other ideas. Ideas that can’t be ignored thanks to the extra-large mocha I drank on the way to the costume shop.

  After grabbing my overnight bag from the backseat, I rush to the front door and check the handle. Locked. Inserting the key Quinn gave me, I let myself in, then dart up the stairs to the bathroom. The shower is running, so I knock before twisting the handle.

  “Kara?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s Gabby. Can I use the bathroom real quick? I know this is weird, but I can’t wait.”

  “I don’t care. Just don’t flush. This house is old, and I’ll get doused with cold water like you see in the movies.”

  Hmmm. Tempting.

  “Thanks,” I holler to Kara as I let myself out after closing the lid to the toilet but not flushing.

  The shower turns off as soon as I shut the door behind me. I was hoping she would stay in there until Quinn arrived, but no such luck. I barely have time to grab my bag from downstairs and get back to Quinn’s room before she’s stepping into the hallway in only her tank top and underwear, a towel wrapped around her head.

  “Where’s Quinn?” she asks sweetly.

  “He ran to get us food.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize you were staying over tonight,” she notes, her eyes falling to the bag in my left hand.

  “Is that a problem?” I find myself asking, my irritation clear.

  Her game has become obvious. Walking around half naked. Assuming Quinn was here. She’s laid her cards on the table, and now it’s my turn.

  “Of course not. You’re always welcome here. I just figured Quinn would have said something if you two were having a sleepover.”

  A sleepover. She makes it sound so juvenile and innocent. Like she knows we’re not dating. That it’s all an act. But how is that possible? We’ve done everything right. Played our parts perfectly in public and a little too convincingly in private.

  Chapter Eighteen

  QUINN

&
nbsp; Food was the last thing on my mind. Gabby was all I could think about after seeing her in her costume. She was the perfect Wonder Woman. I knew she would be.

  The movement of the door caught my attention in the mirror across the room. When I looked up and saw her standing there, my body reacted before I could stop the thoughts from overwhelming me. I wanted to turn around. To tell her she was beautiful, but it wasn’t an option, so I lied.

  I told her I wanted to wait and be surprised.

  Because had I turned around, she would’ve seen how much I liked her costume. The entire store would have known.

  So instead, I pretended to browse the rack of children’s costumes in front of me, took deep, cleaning breaths, recited the alphabet backwards, and tried anything I thought might change my focus from the ache in my pants.

  It took a minute, but I was finally able to calm down. Just in time for her to stick me in a costume so tight it left little to the imagination. How am I going to hide my physical reaction to her in that damn thing? I’m going to have to tuck him in, strap him down, and pray.

  With two bags of food in hand, I walk through the front door. The first thing I notice is how silent the house is. Gabby’s car and Kara’s motorcycle are both parked in the driveway. I didn’t expect to walk in on them having girl time and laughing at inside jokes, but the lack of any kind of activity has me worried.

  “Hello!” I call out as I make my way into the kitchen to start unpacking dinner.

  “Up here,” Gabby replies.

  “I have food.”

  “Be right down.”

  What’s she doing? There’s nothing up there but the bedrooms and the bathroom. And maybe Kara.

  An uneasiness settles in my gut as I head in search of Gabby. Grabbing the railing, prepared to take the stairs two at a time, I stop myself when I hear voices.

  “I find it strange that after years of being friends, you two are suddenly in such a serious relationship. Are you sure you aren’t on the rebound from Gavin still? Maybe pining after him secretly? Using Quinn to get under his skin? If so, your little plan is working.”

  “I’m not sure why you think I’m using Quinn, but what we have is real.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Actually, I know so. What do you even care?”

  “He’s my friend. My roommate. If you break his heart, who do you think he’s going to bitch to? Me, that’s who. So if you truly care about him, figure your shit out so he doesn’t get hurt.”

  A door slams seconds later, and then Gabby is at the top of the stairs, staring down at me. The look on her face tells me she’s pleased with herself, with the way her conversation with Kara ended. The way she carries herself as she slowly descends the stairs is another story.

  She’s cautious. Every move, each step, is calculated. It’s as if she’s walking on eggshells. Almost as if she’s afraid her legs are going to give out on her at any minute, causing her to tumble down the stairs.

  She stops on the bottom step, making it so we’re standing eye to eye. Looking into her eyes, I can see the pain Kara’s caused with her words. The pain she’s attempting to mask with the smile on her face and the slight tilt of her head.

  She’s not fooling me, though.

  And she needs to know that in times like these, when she feels the way she does, that she can lean on me. That I’ll be there for her. To support her. To take her side. To defend her if she wants me to.

  Wrapping my arms around her waist, I lift her off the step. The action catches her off guard. She wraps her legs around me and holds on to my shoulders as I carry her to the kitchen, away from any potential prying eyes. My intention was to set her on the counter, to stand between her legs, and find a way to make her laugh. To erase the worry and heartache Kara’s words have caused her.

  My hands slide down to cup her ass when her grip begins to slip. Picking up the pace, knowing I won’t be able to hide my physical reaction much longer, I try not to focus on the feel of her body wrapped around me. Or how perfectly she fits against me. My thoughts have me so distracted that once we reach the kitchen, I don’t lift her high enough. The front of my pants presses against her core as her ass bumps the edge of the countertop.

  Gabby lets out a soft moan, her arms going slack around my neck.

  I should lift her onto the counter. I should find a way to make her laugh. There are plenty of things I know I should do in this situation and even more things I know I shouldn’t.

  Pressing my body against hers is on the naughty list. But I do it anyway.

  Capturing her mouth with mine is a bad idea. Again, I do it anyway.

  Pulling her away from the counter and walking up the stairs, her body wrapped tightly around me, is a challenge but one I accept and conquer.

  It’s not until I kick my bedroom door closed behind us that I realize what a bad idea this is. That my entire plan is going to go to shit if I rip her clothes from her body and have my way with her. Because that’s what I want right now. That’s all I want. To claim her as mine with my body. My heart. My soul.

  Instead, I do the gentlemanly thing and set her on my bed with care as I continue to devour her every breath. I cover her body with mine as she scoots backward. Then, when I reach my breaking point and I can’t take another moment without feeling like I’m going to explode, I slow my kisses and roll onto my side, pulling her body with me.

  Her back to my front.

  I’m sure she can tell how excited I am. My arousal is practically poking her in the ass. I wouldn’t be able to hide it if I wanted to.

  We lay silently in the darkness of my room until our breathing returns to normal.

  Gabby finds the courage to speak before I do, taking me by surprise.

  “You promised to feed me.” Her tone is playful, lighthearted, almost flirtatious.

  “I did, and I plan to keep that promise,” I reply, attempting to sound as cheerful as she does.

  “Should we heat things up?”

  Naughty thoughts immediately flood my brain. There are a few things I’d like to heat up right now. Food is not on that list unless it means eating it off Gabby’s body in some way.

  “Yeah.”

  Gabby moves to a sitting position and then slides off the bed in one fluid motion. I’m right behind her, adjusting my pants as covertly as possible.

  Dinner is filled with meaningless conversation. I’m barely participating, my focus on the curve of her neck, the way her delicate hand holds her fork, how sweet her laugh is. I let Gabby do most of the talking while I admire her beauty and grace.

  “You’re not listening to me at all, are you?”

  “Of course I am,” I reply defensively. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t tell you anything she’s said in the last five minutes. I’ve been too consumed by her presence.

  “Really? What movie did I just suggest?”

  “A chick flick I’ve never heard of,” I counter. She always suggests those kinds of movies and even though they’re not my preference, I go along with them. The entire summer we spent together, she and Jade were always making us watch sappy love stories and made for TV movies that only women appreciate.

  “Lucky guess,” she replies, crossing her arms in annoyance as she smirks at me.

  “I don’t own any girly movies, you know that, right? We’re either going to have to find something on TV or we can check Netflix.”

  “As long as I get to pick, I don’t have a preference.”

  “Do I get to weigh in on the decision at all?”

  “Nope. That’s your punishment for not listening to me.”

  My fear is that she’s going to try and Notebook me. I’ve only ever watched that movie with one girl, and I didn’t make it all the way through. It was too much for me. Too much drama. Too sappy and in no way felt real. Maybe it was because it was set in a different era, but I couldn’t connect with it. And when my date started to cry, my decision to walk away was confirmed.

  She never spoke to me again after
that. Not that I blame her. I left her house without a word. Never said goodbye. Didn’t even tell her I was leaving. I just had to get out of there, and she was crying, and I didn’t do well with girls and tears back then.

  I’ve matured a lot since that night, but the biggest lesson I learned was to never watch that movie again.

  As we settle on the couch, Gabby’s leg brushing against mine as she searches for a movie, I realize that in ten short days, I’m going to lose her if I’m not careful. And the hardest part of the time we have left together is still to come.

  She’s sleeping here tonight.

  In my bed.

  Next to me.

  And I can’t touch her. I can’t hold her. It needs to be platonic, even though every fiber in my body wants to claim her right here and now.

  I don’t care what Kara thinks. Or what Gavin thinks. This may have started out about them, but that’s changed. It’s about so much more than that now. It’s about us.

  Chapter Nineteen

  GABRIELLE

  Stay focused.

  I keep repeating it over and over again in my head as I stare at Quinn’s television. I was going to pick a girly movie and torture him, but then I realized that after the movie ends, we will probably go to bed.

  Back to bed to be exact.

  And I’m not ready for that yet. I’m not ready to share a space that small with him. Behind closed doors.

  It’s dangerous, us being alone.

  Especially in his bed.

  With our hormones raging the way they have been lately.

  So instead of picking a quick chick flick to watch, I chose the longest movie I could find.

  Titanic.

  Who doesn’t love Leo?

  It also had to be one I had seen so many times before I could essentially space out. One that wouldn’t make me cry, even if the ending was sad, because that was the last thing I wanted to do in front of Quinn. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop if I started.