by Ines Vieira
“Oh, I don’t doubt it, babe. I’m sure your focus is completely on school work at that penthouse with all those empty bedrooms!” Izzy laughs. “And I can just imagine you knee deep in your International Conflict Management essay on some balcony while Quaid makes sure you’re nice and warm.”
“Now you’re just being a twat,” I sneer back as her phone starts to ping with message after message. Izzy can’t help but laugh out so loud that I’m sure the kids passing by our room can hear her.
“I’m not even offended because you have just made me the proudest BFF ever. My girl has finally used the word twat correctly in a sentence,” she beams while her phone is still blowing up.
“Will you answer whichever guy is blowing up your phone already and tell him desperation is a total turn off?” I goad her as she winks and goes to her desk where her bunny-eared phone lays.
“Don’t be bitter when you have your own eye candy just dying for this sleepover,” she chides back as she picks up her phone to read what is probably a novel by now with all the pings the phone got in the past minute.
I try to think if there is anything else that I should take with me for this weekend. Aside from questioning my sanity in even going through with this, I can’t think of anything else that I should bring. The past week has been a little surreal, to say the least. All the kids I had been tutoring have miraculously found new replacements, giving me back twenty hours a week to focus on school and my social activist campaigns. Work at the hotel has been brilliant since the girls that work with me are funny as hell, making time fly by while scrubbing already immaculate bathtubs and vacuuming pristine carpets. Even my supervisor, who seemed to look down on everyone, has been nothing but civil with me. I think she even tried to smile at me at one point, which led to all sorts of laughter and innocent teasing by my co-workers. Even one of my professors had called on me to answer one of his questions and praised me for the correct and intuitive answer.
All of it seemed to be finally going my way, but still, the only thing that made me feel less out of sorts since I arrived in Columbia was when Quaid would show up unexpectedly and grace me with his almighty smile. Those suckers pulled me in like a moth to a flame, and I couldn’t help but reciprocate in kind. Even though I tried my best not to show how much he affected me, I think that the only one I was fooling was myself. Quaid affected me. Quaid had always affected me, and it scared me to my very core how I was no longer able to keep my brick wall standing tall to keep him out. Every text he had sent, every stolen touch he was able to get, only broke my resolve to keep my distance.
Izzy, Ronnie and even Drew didn’t get my reluctance in letting Quaid in. But with those three, they saw no harm in jumping into something head first. Izzy is the champion of the whole college experience, and this includes hooking up whenever the proposition occurs. I’ve heard her recited motto to my lack of dating too many time; “You want to get those hotties while you’re still a hottie!” So resisting a guy that Izzy considers as drool-worthy just doesn’t make sense to her. Drew is of the same mindset. Maybe more so than Izzy, since she’s at least a bit more selective when it comes to guys. They need to have some form of conversational skills to be able to seduce her. Drew, on the other hand, is a sucker for pretty faces and bad behavior. Even though he wouldn’t want either Izzy or I to fall prey to the same guys he dates, he still loves the drama that a good, bad boy can give him.
And Ronnie... Shit, Ronnie would start dreaming of double weddings or some nonsense like that. She has always wanted to see Quaid and I come to fruition, so I’m not going to get any support from her. I know that Cass would understand my reluctance. Letting someone in can have only two outcomes. It can either give you that missing piece of yourself that you never even knew you were lacking, or it can do the very opposite. Break you in so many ways that you’ll be picking up chunks of your shattered heart for the foreseeable future. Yeah, that didn’t sound tempting to me at all. Especially considering how every time Quaid was near, my whole body felt as it had finally arrived home. Like as if his touch was all it needed to come alive and be at peace all at the same time. Any person who unconsciously brought all that out of me was someone to stay clear from. My head would yell ‘DANGER DANGER’ anytime I thought harder about it, but then my stupid heart would be deaf to it all anytime he even got close to me. But talking this out with Cass felt awkward to me. Though to no fault of her own, it felt weird confiding that something might be starting up with Quaid since he used to have a thing for her back in high school. It felt like I was crossing an imaginary line or breaking some sort of girl code, even if she never did look at Quaid that way.
Last week I wanted nothing to do with the boy. I wanted distance and if possible absence. Now if he goes radio silent for just a couple of hours I feel like all my organs are shutting down from withdrawal. I try to shake these stupid thoughts out of my head and concentrate on one thing at a time. In about five minutes Quaid was going to pick me up so we could go back to his grandparents. I was to stay there the weekend to study and train whenever I could make the time for it. Quaid would take me to work and pick me up, even though I told him I could get around much faster by subway, but apparently, the boy was too gung-ho about using his car whenever possible. So I would sleep there two nights in a row, and although I had agreed to it, I didn’t know what Quaid expected out of our little study slumber party for two. I guess I’m going to find out in a couple of hours.
I grab my iPod and earphones off the shelf and tuck it into the duffle bag, mentally checking all the items that I’ll need to take with me. I don’t want to have to come back to the dorm because I forgot some textbook if I don’t have to. I look over to an ever so silent Izzy and see her staring at her phone pale white.
“Izz, you okay?” But my question is only return with more silence.
“Izzy? Are you okay, hun? You’re starting to freak me out,” I tease but doing a piss poor job of hiding my worry.
“What? Huh?” She looks up to me as she sits down on her bed cross-legged.
“Sorry, it’s nothing. Just spaced. All good,” Izzy states even though her voice is shaky.
“You sure? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Positive. Shouldn’t you be heading out? Don’t want to leave your boy hanging,” she quips, yet I still hear unease in her voice.
“You’re sure? I can stay if you want. I’m starting to think maybe this whole being brought out to his grandparents' place to study is probably boy talk for a booty call,” I laugh trying to see if this gets the spark back in her eyes.
“Oh I’m positive it is, so that is why you are definitely going. One of us should be having some sort of fun over the weekend,” Izzy replies and I can’t put my finger on it if she is genuinely okay or if she is just pushing me out the door for some alone time with whatever spooked her in the first place.
“Okay, I’m out then but call if you need me. I’m serious Izz, okay?” I raise my eyebrow demonstrating how serious I am.
“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. Shoo already. I’ll probably give Drew a call since he’s gone MIA recently with his new boy toy. Mama needs her fix on some juicy gossip and Drew being all tight-lipped on who he hooked up at that stupid ass frat party last week smells like it will be nice and dirty for me,” Izzy replies sounding more like herself. My phone pings with a text and I don’t have to look at it to know its Quaid saying he’s arrived to pick me up.
“Okay then. See you Sunday night. Love you.” With a quick peck on Izzy’s cheek, I’m out the door. I make a mental note to interrogate her properly next week regarding her sudden awkwardness. I also need to have a proper talk with Drew. Izzy was right to say that he’s been absent this week and the knowledge that it’s because he’s getting it on with one of those frat boys from Quaid’s fraternity doesn’t ease me at all. I don’t trust any of those prima donnas Trump wannabes and I have a hard time believing Drew isn’t being played somehow. Those types always have something up their sleeves and al
though I know Drew is a smart guy and can take care of himself, I don’t want him to get hurt.
With my head still on Drew and Izzy, I don’t even register that I’m already opening Quaid’s passenger door until he leans in and gives me a quick, chaste kiss on my left cheek. This does the trick at bringing me to the here and now.
“Hi,” he says brushing my hair away from my face, which must be looking at him adoringly for that one subdued kiss.
Stupid face! Get a grip, will ya!
“Hi,” I reply trying to shake off my ever increasing hormones. Quaid just chuckles while he continues to fondle my dark curls.
“So I’ve got some bad news.”
“Oh,” I ask focusing on the dashboard with all my might and not at how he continues to play around with my hair, stroking each wave through his fingers.
“Yeah, one of the volunteers at the hospital asked if I could switch with him this afternoon, and I said it be okay. I also have to go to the frat later on, so I guess you’re on your own at the penthouse for a while. I’ll try and not come back too late. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Why should I mind? I only accepted to spend the weekend so I’d get a quiet place to study. You not being there will just be an add-on to an already perfect situation,” I quip trying to hide my disappointment. Damn it all to hell; maybe I was the one that thought this weekend was a booty call.
Kill me now!
“Right, I thought as much,” he says as he pulls back and starts the car. I sneak a peek to see if I got on his nerves with my little snub, but he looks right as rain. He even has a damn snicker on his perfectly sculpted face like he just won a million bucks or something. The boy is unnerving, but of course it takes a lot to get under Quaid’s skin, and apparently, I didn’t have the skills anymore to do the job right. When did that happen? I used to be able to push his buttons without even trying. Now when I act like a bitch, it’s like he glows from within. Again kill me please because I will not be able to resist and melt on this very floor.
True to his word, Quaid left me at the penthouse but not before he showed me where I could grab some food in the overfilled pantry and made sure I was nice and settled back in, what I now called, ‘The Boat Room.’ After a couple of hours of intense cramming, my stomach needed attention so I go off to find something edible in the kitchen. The house is so quiet, and it daunts me for a minute, as I stroll each corridor. Everything looks so strategically placed. High chandeliers to heighten the astounding high ceilings and golden framed paintings cover each generous wall. Even the grand piano, in the over spacious living room, looks like its sole purpose is only to be regarded as a decorative piece and daring not to release one single note from its keys fearing someone might mistake it for an actual musical instrument. Everything looks so icy cold and impersonal, even in its grandness. I quickly prepare myself a sandwich and wolf it down as I don’t feel comfortable outside of Quaid’s room in this house. Even though the boat room is no less pristine, the blues and sea theme reminds me of the marina back home, and if I’m honest with myself, it also holds some of Quaid’s earthly scent which nowadays, seems to not only be an aphrodisiac but also my own personal calming balm.
Instead of going back to Quaid’s desk to continue studying, I pick up my textbook and laptop and move to the king-sized bed. Three hours later, I’ve written my paper which is due in a week’s time and feel elated it might even get me a solid B for my efforts. However, my endeavors didn’t come without a cost, as my watery eyes can attest to. I place my books and laptop on the bedside table and head to the bathroom for a quick change into a tank top and pajama shorts. After brushing my teeth and swallowing down a glass of water, my body is refusing to stay awake another minute. I happily crawl into bed contently hugging the pillow that still holds a whiff of Quaid’s essence. I’m out for the count in seconds.
I’m not a light sleeper. Never have been. I could probably sleep through an earthquake, but even in my dreams, I feel Quaid’s presence and his ever tender touch on my temple.
“Didn’t your parents ever teach you that it’s rude to stare?” I mumble still hazy from my very happy slumber. I hear his chuckle and instinctively smile.
“For someone who affirms not to be a stalker, you sure do have the tendencies down to a T,” I tease. Opening my eyes is an effort, but one I’m glad to do if the first thing I see is his centerfold face. I’m greeted with a Colgate smile and animated eyes which only make me want to battle sleep further away so I can enjoy this scene fully.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says now stroking my hair, as if I’m his favorite pet. It almost makes me want to purr if my feminist inner being would allow it. To be the recipient of Quaid’s caress is something out of this world, that I doubt any woman would be unaffected by it.
“No worries, did everything go okay at the hospital and back at the frat?” I ask trying desperately to keep the conversation going and not, in fact, act like a cat in heat.
“As good as expected. The kids at the hospital had fun and we were able to move in the new rush’s stuff to the house.”
“Ah, so that’s why you had to go to the frat tonight. I thought maybe you just preferred to party on a Friday night than be stuck studying with me,” I smirk. Quaid leans down making himself comfortable by my side, only leaving us mere inches apart from each other, and never once taking his eyes off my face.
“Is that what you thought?” he asks looking intently into my eyes as I shrug in response. It’s a good thing I’m still groggy, otherwise, I might have freaked out already. Having Quaid’s undivided attention is not for the faint of heart.
“What if I told you that my brothers kicked me out after the heavy lifting was done because I was in too foul a mood the whole night?” He grins back timidly.
“You don’t look too upset to me right now.” Quaid sweeps my hair to the back of my shoulder leaving my neck too exposed for comfort.
“That’s because I’m finally where I wanted to be all night,” he whispers, and I shit you not, but my heart just did a backflip inside my chest.
“Don’t say stuff like that,” I murmur, hiding my face in the pillow. Unfortunately, Quaid is having none of it and moves me to lie back while he looks down at me, elbow placed firmly next to me.
“Why not? It’s true,” he goes on fixated on my lips that must be yelling at him to kiss them. I roll my eyes in a feeble attempt to ignore his flagrant stare.
“It’s not. How could it be? We don’t even like each other,” I counter-attack clinging to the hope that a pissed off Quaid is easier to deal with than the sweet one who is facing me now. Unfortunately my feeble attempt at annoying him, only makes his smile beam brighter.
“I think you like me just fine,” he gloats and kisses the hollow of my throat. Now he’s just playing dirty. How the hell can I insist I have no such feelings for the boy when he goes and does that?
“You’re delusional,” I whimper as he continues to press small butterfly kisses from my neck up to that small, sensitive spot behind my ear.
“And you’re delicious,” he continues not once letting up on his fervent pecks. Nipping and tasting his way down to my exposed shoulders. And this ladies and gentleman are how wars are won. He’s beating my resistance with small innocent kisses, and my resolve is so weak, that I find myself raising both arms to latch on to his neck. My deprived fingers give me the big 'FU' and trail his silky black hair as they dreamed of doing, and it’s just as heavenly as I thought it would be. Quaid finally falls to my side, and I inherently follow suit, as he lets my hands have their way with his hair, shoulders and back, while he continues to assault that one pleasure point where shoulder meets neck.
“So sweet,” he mumbles, and my insides heat up like a freaking volcano. Bubbling lava ready to explode at any minute if he keeps this up. He hasn’t even kissed me yet, and I’m already a complete mess. His hands have found that little bit of exposed flesh on the bottom of my back from my tank rising up with al
l my shuffling to get closer to him, and the heat coming off his fingertips from his slow torturous strokes, leaves me panting unashamedly. From an outside point of view, this impromptu make-out session is even tamer than some of the stuff I did back when I was in junior high. We’re not dry-humping like some mad teenagers. It’s all about the innocent discovery of the safest places on our bodies, neck, shoulder, hair, back. No real erogenous zones to speak of, but still, my body is lighting up like a Christmas tree. Quaid is still in a trance, kissing and nibbling on my neck when I raise my leg over his, and that’s when my eyes bug out and both of us freeze in that moment. A very masculine part of Quaid is up for attention.
Well, that escalated quickly.
I guess I wasn’t the only one getting hot and bothered by our PG-13 exploration. I swallow hard as Quaid lifts his head and bashfully moves my leg away from him. He places another tender kiss on my temple and raises himself off the bed.
“It’s late and you need your rest for tomorrow,” he says trying hard to control his features but doing a piss poor job at concealing the sultry look in his chromatic eyes. I nod because let’s face it if I say anything now, it would probably be to beg him to get his ass back to bed and finish what he’s started. He goes to the dresser on the other side of the room and gets a t-shirt and some sweatpants from one of the drawers. He quickly makes his way to the bathroom, and as soon as he closes the door, I exhale the breath I was holding.
Sweet baby Jesus, I am in so much trouble!
When I hear the water running, I pick up the pillow next to me and place it on my face so I can scream out my frustration, confusion and whatever else I’m feeling. I try with all my might to gain some respectful control, but it’s kind of hard when my stupid brain keeps flashing images of a hard rock bodied Quaid in the shower with only a flimsy bathroom door as a barrier. I’m back to naming presidents when Quaid finally gets out fully dressed sporting wet flawless hair. He stops at the foot of the bed still wearing that hooded look that demolishes my insides into melted goo.