by Ella Fields
“I love you, Quinn.” Her slim throat bobbed. “And I … I’m …” She shook her head, shutting her mouth.
“What?”
“Nothing. Have a nice life with Miss Perfect.”
She turned around, heading up the stairs and disappearing inside.
I’d just pulled into the driveway when my phone rang from my gym bag. Knowing my mom’s ringtone, I thought about calling her back later.
The hurt, the accusation and anger in Alexis’s eyes, it felt like a noose slowly strangling me.
I felt wretched, like the worst son of a bitch alive for what I’d done to her. But I just didn’t know what else I could do. I didn’t want to be with her anymore. Which didn’t mean I wanted to hurt her, but either way, it had to happen.
So short of standing there and apologizing a thousand times, I had no fucking clue what else I could say to take some of her hurt away. If there even was anything. She was my friend, but I knew nothing would be the same now.
It was either Daisy and me.
Or Alexis and me.
It wasn’t even a thought which one I’d pick—had already picked.
I just wish I could go back to my seventeen-year-old self and punch him in the face. Tell him to wake up, and to stop thinking with his broken heart and constantly stiff dick.
Regret. What a motherfucker.
Did I regret being with Alexis? I did, and I didn’t. I cared too much for her to wish away everything that’d happened between us. But if we’d never happened, if we’d just stayed friends, well, then things might be very different now. No one would be suffering from the fallout of decisions I’d made when I wasn’t in any state to be making them at all.
I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t repair all the damage I’d done, but I could repair some.
I grabbed my gym bag and pulled out my phone, hitting redial on my mom’s missed call. “Hey, boy,” my dad’s voice greeted me instead.
It made me smile as I opened the door. “Hey, Dad.”
“How ya been?” There was a hint of curiosity and knowing in his question. Mom and I had always been close, but my dad was the one who could read between the lines, read me, almost as well as Daisy could.
“That’s kind of a loaded question. I haven’t even walked through the door,” I joked, pushing the key into the lock and walking inside.
“Well, I was making a delivery to the pub in town after lunch, and Darlene Brooks happened to be working.”
“When isn’t she working?” I muttered, kicking off my shoes and closing the door. Heading upstairs, I dumped my bag in my room.
“True. Anyway, she had quite the story to tell me. Apparently, Alexis made a call home yesterday that had Darlene almost throwing a tray of beer at me.”
I’d worry, if it weren’t for the humor in his tone. “Yeah, about that.” I let out a sigh and flopped down onto my bed. “Bit of a long-winded story.”
Silence, then, “I’ll put the teakettle on.”
Turning the shower off, I stepped out and dried myself, rubbing the rough fabric over my face.
It’d been hours since I got home from finally seeing Alexis and talking to my dad. He’d calmly listened to all the shit I’d caused and not chewed me out.
No, all he’d said before hanging up was, “Well, you’ve made your bed. It may look untidy as hell right now, but it’s up to you how and which way you want to fix it.”
He’d always had this uncanny way of making me feel like a man. Always making sure I realized I was responsible for my own actions. Even back when I was only as tall as his belly button.
I’d fucked up. Royally. Like I’d never fucked up anything before in my life. Yet he still made me feel as though there wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed, so long as I was willing to own up to my mistakes.
Even though I’d been desperate to, I knew I couldn’t see Daisy again until I’d broken things off with Alexis, but now that I had …
God, I was a pussy. Did I really think she’d be okay waiting for me? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I needed to do it right this time. And it wasn’t like we had each other’s numbers anymore. I couldn’t even text her to reassure her.
I felt like a dimwitted idiot for not realizing that. A huge fucking asshole that just kept making shit worse. All I could hope was that she’d understand, and that I could remember I owned a set of balls and muster up the damn courage to go see her.
I wrapped the towel around my waist and walked into my room, tugging out sweats and getting my gear ready for practice in the morning.
After getting dressed, I microwaved some lasagna and sat alone at the dining table downstairs. Toby must’ve been with Pippa somewhere. I didn’t know, but the place felt as quiet as a tomb.
The silence started eating at me more than I was eating my damn food, until eventually, I gave in. Pushing my chair back, I dumped my food in the trash and washed my utensils. New girlfriend or not, Toby would still have a shit fit if I didn’t clean up after myself.
Grabbing my keys off the counter, I paused halfway to the door, cursing under my breath when I realized I wasn’t wearing a shirt.
My head had been so scrambled, I was surprised I even knew what day it was.
Tuesday, I reminded myself. It’s Tuesday, and you’re late.
I was tugging a Henley on, running back downstairs when my phone rang from the dining table.
Snatching it up, I saw Toby’s number and tucked it into my pocket as I stuffed my feet into my Chucks. I’d see him later or tomorrow. I had to do this before she worried even more, and this fear that grew hour by hour smothered me until I couldn’t do anything at all.
She loved me, right? Christ. I’d just upended it all for both of us. All three of us. I broke my friend’s heart, and I didn’t even know if Daisy still loved me as she once did.
My mind flicked back through the memories of Saturday night. A sequence of short filmed movies that rolled through my head and made my dick jerk to life instantly as I locked up and jogged toward campus. I should’ve driven; it was cold, and I wanted to get there as quick as possible before I chickened out, but I decided to spend a little time reminiscing, reliving and clinging to the feeling of her soft hands ghosting over my skin.
Her thighs, the way they quivered every time I moved inside her, wrapped tight around my waist. And the sounds, the tiny whimpers and breathy moans. I groaned. Fuck me.
I let it all roll over me, shivering and feeling my blood simmer. But not once did I remember her saying she loved me. Come to think of it, I didn’t think I did either. Which seemed crazy. It felt like it was obvious for the world to see.
Resisting the urge to slap my forehead, I slowed to a steady walk as I approached campus. My phone rang again, and I pulled it out, seeing Toby’s name on the screen. He wouldn’t call twice unless it was important and he needed something.
I stopped walking, hitting answer. “What’s up?”
“What’s up? Do you legit live under a rock?”
My breath plumed in front of me. “Last time I checked, no.” Laughing, I said, “I live with you, so that’d mean you do too.”
“Don’t make jokes. You aren’t funny. So you haven’t heard?”
“About everyone knowing what went down with Daisy?” I asked. “I’ve heard.”
He said something to someone in the background—Pippa, I’m guessing. “What a crazy bitch. Yeah, I mean. You guys pulled a dick move doing that to her, but shit, she had to have known you guys wouldn’t last with Daisy here, right?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Alexis.”
“Yeah, I finally saw her earlier. I, uh, told her about it.”
“You saw her?” He cursed. “You don’t even know. Jesus Christ.”
Looking over at the lights on the campus grounds, the buildings that leaned into the dark sky, I asked, “Know what?” A long silence met my ears, and I growled, “Know what, Toby?”
Clearing his throat a bit,
he almost knocked my feet out from under me with his next words. “Alexis. She got into Daisy’s dorm yesterday. Trashed it. Wrecked all her artwork and shit…”
He went on, and each word he said felt like a blow to the gut.
The look on Alexis’s face this afternoon. Her unsaid words.
My stomach hollowed, then lurched threateningly. This had happened because of me.
Because I took my sweet ass time getting my shit together.
But mainly because I tried to live without my heart.
“You there?” Toby asked.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Look, man. Go home, I’ll be there soon. We’ll hit the punching bag in the garage. Don’t be—”
“No.” Emotion choked my voice. I coughed. “I need to see her.”
“Who? Alexis?” He sighed. “There’s not much point, Quinn. What can you even do?”
“Not Alexis.” Just saying her name had venom filling my taste buds. “Daisy.”
He was quiet for a beat. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’ve left it too long as it is.”
He chuckled. “It’s been like … what? Two days?”
Pippa shushed him in the background. “All right, yeah. Apparently, that’s a fair amount of time. Go forth and prosper.”
I was already walking again. “Star Trek? Really?”
“Don’t hate. The fact that you know what I meant means you can’t say shit.”
With that, he hung up, and I marched across the damp grass toward the dorms, hoping like hell she was still as forgiving as I remembered her to be.
Strong hands gripped my thighs, pushing and spreading them open farther. I felt so full I thought I might combust. “Feel good?”
“Daisy!”
Shit. Startled, I shot straight up, making my head spin. I tried to work out where I was and what happened to all the good feelings that had engulfed me just moments ago.
I shoved my hair out of my face, then slapped at my nightstand until I gripped my glasses, shoving them on.
Pippa stared back at me from the end of my bed, smoothing her hair into a high ponytail with a smirk on her face. “Good dream?”
I groaned, my head dropping into my hands. “What gave me away?”
“Oh, not much. Just a little moaning,” she said, the bed shifting as she got up.
Well, that was a bit embarrassing. Peeking out between my spread fingers, I saw she was busy getting ready for class and relaxed somewhat. Until the events of last night resurfaced like a punch in the boob.
Looking up at the wall, I saw the paint was still there. It hadn’t magically disappeared. Unfortunately. “I guess I should do something about that.”
“I don’t know,” Pippa said. “It’s kind of growing on me.” Scowling, I grabbed my pillow and tossed it at her. She laughed, dodging it. “Joking, joking. We’ll figure out how to get it off.”
“It’s water-based acrylic. I’ll have to get my Google search on.” I yawned, tilting my head to take in the badly painted Daisy. I had to admit I kind of liked it. Not the words, but the flower. The sweeping, sharp, and uneven black edges of the petals.
Pippa tossed my pillow back to me, and I put it behind my head, flopping back down onto it with a groan. “Can I skip today?”
“Of course, you can. Should you, though?”
Mulling over it, I thought maybe I should. “I think so.”
The bed dipped as Pippa sat back down, swiping on some gloss as she stared at me. “You’re afraid of what people might say?”
Trying to swallow over the knot in my throat, I nodded.
“Daisy, this isn’t as bad as high school. Will people maybe talk about you?” She lifted her shoulders, capping her gloss. “Yeah, but you can’t control that. They’ll move onto something else in a matter of minutes.”
She left for class, and I picked up my phone. I had ten minutes until I needed to be in the art studio across campus. Blowing a loud raspberry, I heaved myself out of bed and rushed around the room to get ready.
It was true. I couldn’t control what anyone thought or said about me.
But I could damn well control what I did.
Putting the cap back on the bottle of acetone, I stepped back and looked at the wall.
Not perfect, some black and yellow specks remained in the dips and tiny bumps of the white paint that covered the brick, but it would do.
I tossed the dish sponges into the trash, put the acetone away in the top of our wardrobe, and went to wash my hands.
“Oh, is that the one who had her dorm trashed?” someone said when I passed an open door on my way back to my room. Closing my eyes briefly, I went back inside and shut the door, leaning back against it.
Today wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. It helped that I only had two classes and only heard whispers in English lit. Besides feeling like everyone’s eyes were on me as I walked off campus to the little shopping village a few hours ago, nothing else had really happened.
Tugging on some sweatpants, I snapped the elastic around my waist and went to open the window so we didn’t suffocate from the fumy smell coming from my wall.
Something flew inside as soon as I opened it, landing on the carpet. Twisting, I frowned at a small white pebble, then jumped as a round of tap, tap, tapping ensued on the glass window.
Great, I’d spoken too soon. People were throwing rocks at me now? What the hell?
Wrenching it up higher, I tried to see who was throwing things at me and caught sight of Quinn, almost falling backward in the garden of small shrubs below.
Warm. My chest grew instantly warm, and a smile tried to take over my face.
I stopped it in its tracks, telling myself to get it together. He’d always been able to make me ignore everything else. But after two days of not seeing him, and all that had happened, I wouldn’t let him do that now.
I shut the window halfway, determined to ignore him, and shrugged on a baggy blue fuzzy sweater. The tapping didn’t stop, and I soon became worried he’d crack the damn window with that throwing arm of his.
Downstairs, the common rooms were quiet, and the lights dim as I approached the doors. Opening them, I stepped outside, wrapping my arms around my mid-section.
I heard rustling, then he came barreling out of the garden. “Dais, hey.”
I stopped on the top step, sitting down on the cold concrete. “Hi.”
He stopped in front of me, his eyes pinging back and forth between mine. “Sorry, I just didn’t know how to get you to come down.”
“I wasn’t going to, but I thought it best for the longevity of our window.”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his head, looking a little sheepish. “I need your number.”
“Yeah, that might help. Or staying long enough to get it in the first place,” I said sullenly.
Wincing, he bent down on the step in front of me. “I’m sorry, I’ll explain. But first, are you okay? I heard about …” He sniffed, his nose crinkling adorably. “Why do you smell like you might catch on fire at any second?”
“Because I’m too hot.” I couldn’t help it. It was right there, waiting for me to take the bait.
His head fell back, a loud laugh bellowing out of his mouth and sending breathy plumes into the night air. Looking back at me, he leaned forward, his smile slowly waning as he rubbed his palm against my cheek. “Seriously. Why?”
Grabbing his mammoth hand, I gently removed it from my face, ignoring his confused frown. “I had to clean some paint off my wall.”
It took a moment, but realization dawned, and he cursed gruffly. “No.”
Tilting a shoulder, I glanced down at the yellow and brown leaves sitting on the step beneath my legs. “Yeah.”
“W-what”—he cleared his throat, trying again—“what did it say?”
“Does it matter?”
He was between my legs then, on his knees on the step below, both his hands gripping my face and tilting it back to look at him. His eyes were we
t, and his throat bobbed. “It does. Tell me.”
Breathing the same air, I kept my eyes on his thanks to his hands and whispered, “Daisy is a slut.”
Eyes shuttering, he breathed out raggedly, “You know that couldn’t be further from the truth, right?”
I did know that. “It still hurts, though.”
His throat rippled as he swallowed. “Did she really wreck your stuff?”
“Yeah, she did.” I averted my eyes from his, wanting to erase the anguish I saw there.
“I’m so sorry, Dais.”
“You didn’t make her do it. It’s not your fault.”
“But your art.” I sucked my lip into my mouth, biting down on it at the reminder. “I can’t believe she’d do that.”
Neither could I. But she did. We all did. “It shouldn’t be like this, Quinn. All this hurt. All this mess.”
“We’ll fix it. I’ll fix it.”
“I don’t know if we can.” My eyes squeezed closed.
His lips landed on my forehead, resting there. I could feel his hands shaking slightly. “I’m sorry, so fucking sorry.”
A tear escaped my shut eye, and I croaked out, “Where’ve you been?”
I opened my eyes, finding him sitting back on his haunches. “I told you. I had to make everything right first.”
“Why?”
“Because when I saw you again,” he said, “I knew I’d do something like this.” He leaned forward, his lips landing on mine and melding to them perfectly. One minute. I let myself get lost in them for one minute, then I pushed him away and rose to stand.
He looked so confused, so hurt, and I wanted nothing more than to climb into his lap and smooth the worry creases from his forehead. “What we did, Quinn …”
Standing up, he rushed to say, “We can’t regret it, Daisy. It’s us.”
“That’s not an excuse,” I said, backing toward the door.
“I know,” he said, his voice beseeching. “But it was inescapable. We’re inescapable. So it’s my fault. I should’ve known we couldn’t dance around what was meant to be. I should’ve ended things with Alexis weeks ago. Hell, I never should’ve let them begin.”