For All The Wrong Reasons

by Brownell, Rachael

  What I don’t remember is the ride back to my apartment. I don’t remember getting undressed or redressed. I certainly don’t remember climbing into bed or how I ended up on the bathroom floor with my face pressed against the cool tiles.

  Yet, here I am.

  In a pair of running shorts and a tank top.

  No bra. Hair in a lopsided ponytail.

  The bathroom light is shining in my eyes, and I wish I could telekinetically turn it off. I try but it hurts my brain, so I shut my eyes and pray for death to take me. My head is pounding, my throat feels like it’s on fire, and my stomach is still churning, a clear sign that I will puke again before I feel better.

  The floorboards creak, alerting me to a presence behind me, and I freeze. Squeezing my eyes closed, I pretend to be asleep when I feel a cold rag press against my face and Quinn’s soft voice above me.

  “I’m so sorry, Gabs. I shouldn’t have let you drink so much.”

  Quinn dabs the rag across my forehead and down my cheek.

  He brought me home. He stayed with me. I’m assuming he changed my clothes for me.

  Shit. He saw me naked.

  I wasn’t wearing any underwear last night, and it doesn’t feel like I’m wearing any right now.

  He saw all of me, and I wasn’t even coherent enough to remember his reaction.

  Did he enjoy the show? Was he turned off by what he saw? Or was he a gentleman, and did he look away?

  Wait!

  Did we have sex? Did I throw myself at him? Confess everything to him?

  I like to talk when I’m drunk. I wouldn’t be surprised if I told him I was in love with him.

  The thought causes my stomach to lurch, and I’m hugging the toilet a second later. I hear Quinn say something, but I can’t make out what it is over the sounds of my vomit splashing in the toilet.

  I’m going to be embarrassed when this is all over. He’s seeing me at my very worst, and I have no idea what I said to him last night. I search my brain for any recollections I can recall but nothing comes to mind.

  Only Kara’s face.

  Laughter.

  And then . . . blackness.

  The smell of bacon has me hurling the second I open my eyes. The bathroom light is off, but the room is bathed in sunlight. As I push myself into a sitting position and rest my aching body against the cabinet, I stare into my bedroom and plead for it to stop spinning.

  After a few minutes, I’m able to focus on my bed.

  The comforter is tossed back on both sides. My dress is hanging off the end of the bed, my shoes sitting on the floor beneath it. Next to my shoes are Quinn’s along with the blue shirt he was wearing last night. It appears it was hastily ripped from his body. One of the sleeves is inside out and the bottom two buttons are still done.

  Images flash through my mind as if the night is on replay.

  The way Quinn was staring at my butt when I got out of the truck.

  The look he gave Kara from across the room.

  The anger I felt toward her and the decision I made to grind against him even more.

  The second drink he poured me, the third I poured myself when he wasn’t looking, and the fourth he handed me before we snuck off to a secluded corner of the living room to act like teenagers.

  His hands on my body. Under my dress. The look of surprise on his face when he realized I wasn’t wearing any panties. The feel of his reaction against me as he captured my lips and told me—

  “Feeling any better?” Quinn asks, stepping in my line of sight.

  My eyes slowly travel up his bare legs, stopping to admire the bulge in his boxer briefs, before finally making it to his eyes. I try to maintain my focus on those golden-brown eyes and ignore the fact he’s practically naked in front of me.

  What happened last night after we left the party?

  Did we . . .

  There’s no way I would forget that. Right? I guarantee a roll between the sheets with Quinn would be unforgettable. Plus, if I drank enough to make me forget most of last night, there’s no way he would have taken advantage of me. He’s a better man than that.

  Still, I wish I could remember the details of the night. Did I make a move on him? Did I confess things I shouldn’t have?

  Blinking in an attempt to refocus my attention, I finally answer Quinn. “Not really.”

  “Do you want to try and eat something?”

  The thought of food makes my stomach turn, but I agree anyway. Quinn offers me his hand to help me up, and slowly he lifts me to my feet. He keeps hold of my hand as we exit the bathroom.

  As nonchalantly as possible, I take in the state of my bedroom. All looks as it should, aside from the discarded clothes and mussed bedding. It’s once we reach the living room that I stop questioning what may have happened last night and attempt to recall any details I can.

  My purse is on the floor next to the couch, the contents spilling out. The framed picture I keep on the table at the end of the couch is toppled over. Quinn’s jacket and mine are both on the floor near the front door, only steps from the hooks they should be hung on.

  It’s clear we were in a rush when we came in.

  “So,” I begin, taking a seat at the counter as Quinn makes his way around and over to the stove. There’s only one way to find out what happened. As long as he was in better condition than I was. “I’m not going to lie. I don’t remember much of last night after that second drink.”

  “I’m not surprised. You were pounding them back pretty quick.”

  Yeah, that’s the problem. “Sorry about that. I’m not sure what got into me last night.”

  “Really?” There’s a look of doubt on his face as slides a plate filled with bacon, eggs, and toast in front of me. “What’s the last thing you remember clearly?”

  Dancing. Making out.

  Letting my feelings for you take control of my body and pretending you felt the same.

  I’m not ready to confess that last part. “We were dancing. The music was loud, and the room was hot.”

  “It was hot in there, all right,” he notes, taking the seat next to me.

  His close proximity has every fiber in my body on high alert. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention, and I have to press my thighs together to keep my legs from bouncing as my nerves take over.

  “Kara got under your skin,” he continues. “You made it your mission to put her in her place. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  There’s more to his story than he’s sharing. I can hear it in his voice. He’s holding back, but I don’t know why. And I sure as hell don’t remember Kara getting to me. If she pissed anyone off last night, it was Quinn.

  “Well, if I was out of line, I apologize,” I state, taking a bite of the buttery toast, praying I’m able to keep it down.

  “You weren’t, but I was. I should be the one apologizing to you. I know we agreed to a lot of things, but last night wasn’t one of them.”

  Shit! Does that mean we did have sex? It’s the one thing we took off the table. I made sure of it. For reasons I can’t remember right now but were valid at the time.

  “Quinn . . .” My voice trails off, hoping he can interpret my thoughts so I don’t have to straight up ask him.

  “No, Gabs. We didn’t have sex, but that wasn’t for lack of trying on either of our parts. Too much alcohol and sexual chemistry made for a dangerous situation, but we didn’t cross that line.”

  Good. I’d rather cross that line when I could remember it the next morning.

  “I thought you weren’t going to drink last night. How’d we get back here?”

  “We called an Uber and left my truck at the frat house. I need to go back for it today before it gets towed.”

  At least we were smart enough not to drive. Smart enough to stop ourselves from doing something we’d regret the next day. I guess that could encompass a few decisions we made last night in our drunken states.

  “In fact,” he says, pushing his untouched pla
te aside, “I should probably get dressed and get going. Are you still planning on staying over tonight?”

  Do I want to? Yes.

  Should I? Probably not.

  Regardless of the real reason I was planning on staying over, if we put ourselves in a dangerous situation last night, one that we wouldn’t be able to forget, I shouldn’t tempt fate.

  The first time I sleep with Quinn, if that opportunity ever arises, I want it to be because it’s what we both want. Not because we’re trying to make other people jealous. There shouldn’t be thoughts of breaking our contract or any worry about how much we’ve had to drink.

  I only hope we get to that point in our relationship one day.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  QUINN

  After last night, I’m not surprised she’s hesitant to stay over tonight. Disappointed? Yes. Is her answer unfortunate? Yes. Will I have to reconsider every aspect of my plan to keep Kara quiet? That was going to have to happen anyway after last night’s events.

  Looking around her apartment, I feel guilty for leaving it like this. It’s normally pristine, everything in its place. Not right now, though.

  I should have picked up her place this morning when I saw the disarray we left it in last night, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I stared at it, reliving the memories. Remembering the feel of her body against mine as I stripped her clothes off, pressed her against a wall in the hallway, and confessed all my darkest secrets to her.

  That’s when I realized we were both too drunk. I wasn’t worried about her remembering what I was saying to her. She was saying similar things to me and begging me to take her.

  I wanted to, but I knew better. The first time we’re together, I want it to be special. A moment she’ll never forget. One she’ll want to repeat over and over again.

  Plus, Gabby is hilarious when she’s drunk, and I was having a hard enough time making out with her when she was making me laugh.

  “Did you see the look on Kara’s face when I was grinding into you? I swear I saw steam coming out of her ears like in the old cartoons.” She doubled over laughing and when she came up for air, continued as if she wasn’t almost in a fit of tears moments earlier, her tone turning serious. “She loves you. She’s jealous. The plan is working. But she can’t have you because you’re mine.”

  “I’m yours, huh?” I tease, smacking her lightly on the ass as she attempts to unlock her apartment door.

  “Yes, Quinn. You. Are. Mine. And I’m yours, and Kara can kiss my ass. So can Gavin for that matter. They should hook up. OH MY GOD! They should totally hook up. They deserve each other.”

  I remember thinking how good it felt to hear those words leave her mouth, wishing they were true and not a drunken confession that holds no value.

  They say people are more truthful when intoxicated. They lose their filter and concern for repercussions.

  I knew my guard was down. I’d had just the right amount of alcohol to still feel in control of myself but was loose enough to walk the very thin line that was currently separating our friendship and something much greater.

  And if my guard was down, Gabby’s was nonexistent.

  So I did what I thought was going to be the best decision at the time.

  I stripped us of our jackets, swooped her into my arms, bumping into the table when I lost my balance for a moment, and then carried her in the direction of her room. What I didn’t count on was her wiggling in my arms, pressing kisses to the side of my neck, and sliding down the front of my body in a sexual dance that had me about to explode in my pants.

  Once we finally made it to her room, she plopped down on her bed with renewed energy, but her body swayed and her smile was lopsided. She was beyond comprehension, and I was a gentleman. My desires were going to have to wait because I needed to take care of Gabby right now.

  Not that I had a choice. Gabby popped up on her knees, pulled me close, and began to rip my clothes off as quickly as she could. I urged her to slow down, but the word stop wouldn’t seem to cross my lips. It could have been because hers were pressed tightly against mine, but my money would be on the fact I didn’t want the moment to end.

  Standing in front of her in only my boxer briefs, I watched as she assessed me. Every inch. From head to toe. I was doing the same, her dress hugging every curve, making me wish I could run my fingers across her bare skin.

  When I suggested she change into something more comfortable, she pointed to a dresser across the room without breaking eye contact. While I searched her drawers for something for her to wear, she fell asleep in the middle of the bed, her soft snoring alerting me as I finally found a pair of shorts and a tank top.

  I won’t lie, I watched her sleep for a few minutes. I was paralyzed by her beauty. She looked peaceful. There was a hint of a smile on her face and a glimmer of drool at the corner of her mouth. Even passed out drunk, Gabby was the most beautiful woman I’d ever had the privilege of laying my eyes on.

  Finding the strength to press on, I carefully removed her heels and slipped her shorts on, tugging them under her dress since I knew she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Slowly rolling her over, I unzipped the tight, black little number she put on tonight and shimmied it off her body before placing a shirt over her head and attempting to pull her arms through the sleeves.

  That’s when she sat straight up in bed, never opening her eyes, startling me.

  Gabby managed to put her shirt on the rest of the way, fumble beneath it, and pull her bra out one of the sleeves, tossing it across the room, before crawling under the covers and pulling them up to her chin.

  She was snoring softly again within seconds.

  Backtracking through her apartment, I shut off all the lights and locked the door before crawling in bed beside her. Pulling her body against mine, I’m fairly certain I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

  “I’ll see you Monday morning for coffee?” I ask as I pull my jacket on.

  “Sure,” Gabby replies, as the memories of last night fading from my mind.

  What were we talking about again? Oh, yeah. Coffee. Monday morning. Check.

  After kissing her on the cheek, I step outside to wait for my ride. I need to pick up my truck and get back to the house before the girls wake up. I guarantee Kara and Tess will both have something to say about last night. And if Kara brought that fucker home with her, I’m going to lose my shit.

  Not because he’s a piece of shit. That’s a fact.

  I’ll be pissed that Tess let Kara go down that road again. I’ll be pissed that Kara stooped so low.

  I may not feel the same way about her I thought I did a month ago, but I do believe she can do better than a low-level drug dealer who treats her like a piece of ass. A cheap fuck.

  He’s a user, and she knows it.

  I don’t see much of Tess and Kara the rest of the weekend. When I do, neither mentions the party or Gabby or how we were practically fucking in front of everyone.

  I also don’t hear much from Gabby. I sent her a few texts that went either unanswered or were short replies.

  ME: What are you up to?

  GABBY: Homework

  ME: Want someone to study with?

  I’m still waiting to hear back from her, and that was sixteen hours ago.

  I miss her. I can’t wait to see her this morning. I’ve never been so excited about a cup of coffee in my life.

  She’s been the star of my dreams the last two nights. Everything we’ve been through since we signed that contract, all the important moments, have been highlighted. Our first kiss. The first time Gavin saw us together. And Kara. And Tess. Everyone’s reactions to our relationship.

  Her original hesitation to get involved with a plan like this.

  And the way she’s changed her mind over the last few weeks.

  And how convincing she’s become.

  Too convincing.

  I should recognize the signs. My acting skills haven’t improved since we started this game, bu
t my feelings for Gabby have evolved, and I can’t help but think hers have as well. It’s the only explanation I can come up with for how natural things have felt lately.

  She’s putting her heart into it.

  My phone chimes as I turn into the parking lot of the coffee shop across the street from campus. It has to be a text from Gabby. I’m only a few minutes late, my boss giving me a list of things to do before I left at the last minute, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s calling me out. Once I back my truck into a spot furthest from the front door, I throw it into park and then slide my finger across my screen.

  GABBY: Overslept. Getting ready for class and heading straight there. See you later.

  Staring at the message, I read it twice as my thumbs hover over the keyboard to type out a reply.

  Gabby doesn’t oversleep.

  Gabby is never late.

  She’s the timeliest person I’ve ever met. She shows up fifteen minutes early everywhere she goes. She’s always prepared for any situation. Her homework is turned in days before it’s due. Big projects are finished weeks in advance.

  Timeliness is one of those things she’s OCD about. It’s not an observation. It’s a fact. One that I plan to call her out on.

  ME: What’s really going on? This isn’t like you, Gabs. Talk to me.

  My text goes unanswered. I sit in my truck until I need to leave for class, waiting for my phone to chime. Waiting for her to respond. I’ll take anything at this point, even a clear lie. Something that tells me I haven’t lost her because that’s how it feels at the moment.

  She never replies.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  GABRIELLE

  The night has been coming back to me slowly over the last few days. A flashback here and there helping me piece together the missing events of the night.