by Claire Adams
"You have friends that stay in villas?" Trent asked.
"Well, one friend really. Anya. She's one of those drop-dead gorgeous jet-setters that also happens to play video games. We meet up at tournaments from time to time," I said.
Trent gave me an assessing look and then turned to study Quinn. She was looking even more miserable. I had obviously chosen the wrong plan.
"So, you and this Anya chick, huh? Guess Quinn wasn't lying about the whole 'he only kissed me to help make Trent jealous thing.'"
I was about to backtrack when Mr. Thomas walked in the room. "Who’s Anya?"
"Owen's girlfriend," Trent said.
Mr. Thomas slowed down and gave me a less angry look. I finally saw Quinn relax a little. Maybe it was not such a bad idea, after all.
"She flew in for the tournament last weekend. Then, he drove her up to L.A. and decided to visit me," Quinn said.
"Dinner's on the table," Mr. Thomas said. His face was regaining a normal color. "I'm sorry to say that Barbara will not be joining us, but please, let's eat."
We settled around a table where takeout from a local restaurant had been artfully displayed as home cooking. For a few minutes, everyone passed the plates, and there was hope for an almost normal meal.
"So, Owen came back to UCLA, huh? That must have been hard. Was that before your parents dropped the whole house arrest bombshell?" Trent asked.
"Why would it be hard for him to come to UCLA?" Nicky asked.
I jumped in. "Did you catch up on everything, Quinn? How's the nursing program?"
Quinn gave me a thankful smile. "I'm actually caught up. I have a few big chapters to read tonight, but then I'm free."
"She's actually a really good nurse," Trent said. "When we first started dating, we went to this outdoor concert. People were just getting loaded all over. So, naturally, I was having a great time. Until I fell down this embankment and cut my arm on a signpost."
Trent launched into an animated retelling of his bloody injury. While he was monopolizing the other end of the table, I turned to check on Quinn.
"I'm sorry, I had no idea," she said.
"Why are you apologizing? Just say the word and we'll leave right now," I said.
She smiled. "I would. I really would, but I honestly think it would only make things worse."
"What? Leaving your father with your jealous ex-boyfriend and his painfully uncomfortable boy toy?" I asked.
Quinn smiled again. It felt like a knot came loose in my chest.
"I really didn't think this would be so bad. I actually am caught up with my coursework. I thought I'd read my chapters like a good collegiate tonight and meet you for pancakes in the morning," she said.
"Pancakes in the morning? What am I, your 80-year-old aunt?" I asked.
"No. You're just my buddy dating an amazing jet-setter named Anya," Quinn said.
"I only said that to take the heat off you." I reached for her hand under the table. "She is the farthest thing from my mind when I think about that tournament."
"What's the first thing that comes to mind?" Quinn asked.
"Blood spurting everywhere. Remember, Quinn?" Trent asked.
She pulled her hand away. "All it took was a little pressure to stop the bleeding. It was just a nick on your wrist. No big deal."
"I still have the scar," Trent said. He held up his wrist. "The best part was her bedside manner, or should I say trenchside manner. Only Quinn would be able to calm down a raving drunk in the middle of a crowd of raving drunks while the band goes into their loudest number."
"So, I'm not such a monster for making you stick with it," Mr. Thomas said.
"It’s not that," Quinn said. "I'm just not sure I really want to become a nurse."
The good will in her father's eyes disappeared. "Nonsense. Think about how excited Sienna was to have you at UCLA and in the nursing program. Don't you want to see it through for her?"
I felt the wine turn to acid in my mouth. "You would think Sienna would want her little sister to be happy."
"You are the last person I want to hear speculating on what my daughter would have thought," Mr. Thomas said.
Trent gave me a malignant smile. "Why don't I help clear some of these dishes?"
"Thank you, Trent," Mr. Thomas said.
Quinn jumped up to help them. When they all went through to the kitchen, I let out an angry sigh.
"Who's Sienna?" Nicky asked.
"You don't want to know," I said. "If you leave now, I'll cover for you and get a cab for Trent. Go dancing and have fun."
"You're sweet," Nicky said. He got up and moved into Quinn's seat. "I can see why Quinn loves you and why Trent hates you."
"That'd be nice if it were true," I said.
"What? That Quinn loves you? Oh, honey, no one's going to buy that girlfriend-in-Vegas story. Even I saw how you two are like magnets," Nicky said. He patted my hand.
"Hell, you have nothing to lose. Want to tell Mr. Thomas to let his daughter live her own life? I swear, if you do it, I'll spring for a suite at the Wynn for you. You don't even have to tell Trent where you're going unless you want to," I said.
"Honey, all you have to do is ask me nicely," Nicky said. He clinked his wine glass against mine, and it was still ringing when Trent came back into the dining room.
"Really, Nicky? You are a total slut. I brought you here and now I find you flirting with him?" Trent asked.
"He's nice. And gorgeous," Nicky said. "Besides I drove and you know this has been a disaster."
"I can call him a cab right now," I said to Nicky.
"That's it, I'm leaving!" Trent said. He flounced to the hallway door. "Thanks, Mr. Thomas. We're heading out to Vegas!"
Nicky patted my hand again and got up to follow Trent. I poured the rest of his wine into my glass and sat back to take a long drink.
#
Mr. Thomas came back to the dining room first. "They left?"
"Yes," I said. "I guess Nicky was anxious to hit the dance clubs. I told him they were open all night."
"Well, I guess a quick farewell is better than sticking around after the party is over," Mr. Thomas said.
"Need a hand in the kitchen?" I asked. I stood up and stacked the dishes closest to me. Before he could make up an excuse, I moved past him and into the kitchen.
Quinn was at the sink, rinsing the dishes. The recycling was bulging with the takeout containers. She saw me notice and she smiled.
"I sure do miss my mother's home-cooked meals," she said.
"Your mother isn't well," Mr. Thomas snapped from the doorway.
Quinn looked at me and bit her lip. Mrs. Thomas's wild mood swings had always been cause for concern, but her husband was still pretending everything was normal. Even after Sienna, whose personality could be the perfect mirror image of her mother's, had suffered for it.
"I'll just grab the last of it," I said. I headed back to the dining room and considered going right out the front door.
"You're right, Father, she isn’t well. Don't you think she might want to see a doctor?" I heard Quinn ask.
"That's not what I meant. She's just sick of seeing you so far off-track," Mr. Thomas responded. "If you could pull yourself back together, your mother wouldn’t have to be so stressed and worried."
I gripped a fork hard enough to leave an imprint on my palm. I knew Mr. Thomas tried to find excuses for his wife's erratic behavior. But this was the first time I had ever heard him place the weight of it squarely on Quinn's shoulders.
"I'm worried about her, too. Don't you think after what happened to Sienna, we should ask her to see someone?" Quinn asked. Her voice was faint but I could hear the resolve in it.
"What you should be worried about is ridiculous scenes like that dinner. Do you see now what a mess you're making of everything?"
I strode back into the kitchen and forced myself to place the dishes lightly on the counter. The saucers still rattled harshly and Quinn jumped. The look in her eyes begged me not to say anything.
I pointed downstairs and then turned to Mr. Thomas. "Thank you very much for dinner, sir. Do you need a hand with drying or should I say goodnight?"
"Goodnight," Mr. Thomas said.
I left the kitchen and went down the hallway past the guest bathroom. The next door led to the basement, and I slipped down it. Mr. Thomas generally retreated to his office after dinner and would not notice my car still parked out front.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and heard the blood pounding in my ears. I was angry. Angry that a father could ignore the problems of his family and pretend everything was perfect. Angry that people really expected life to be perfect and they fell to pieces when it wasn't. I could not watch Quinn give in to that way of thinking. It would destroy her, and the thought made me see red.
"I think you should go home," Quinn said. She jogged down the stairs. "It’s been a pretty rough night. I can't believe you stayed."
"I was going to tell you the same thing," I said. I caught her hands and held them tight.
"It’s okay, really," Quinn said, but she would not meet my eyes.
"Fine, we won't talk about it," I said. "Maybe we do better when we don't talk." I kissed her, hard.
When our lips met again, I realized why I had felt so restless. I felt as if I had been taking on water, sinking lower and lower. All it took was Quinn's kiss to buoy me back up. I hoped it did the same for her.
It was impossible to read her chocolate brown eyes. She pushed against my chest, broke the kiss, and looked up at me for a long time.
"I'm worried, Quinn," I said. "I don't think this is you. You are the woman I saw in Vegas. Confident, inspired, and open."
"You mean carefree and fun," Quinn said. She turned away. "Sorry, Owen. This is my real life."
"Why?" I asked. "Why do you think you have to stay here? I know they are your parents and I know you love them."
"And I owe them," she said.
"Not as much as you owe it to yourself to live your own life."
Quinn stepped back and crossed her arms. When she turned to face me, her eyes flashed. "And how am I supposed to do that?" she asked.
"By leaving here. By telling your parents that you quit the nursing program. Go out and find what you want to do. I know of a job. You'd be an amazing Beta Tester. Your win at the tournament and a recommendation from me would get it for you, no problem," I said.
"So, that's it?" Quinn asked. "I ask how I'm supposed to live my own life and you have an answer all ready? You even have a job lined up for me. Tell me, Owen, if I jumped from my parents’ house to your apartment and this whole vision you have for me, is that really living my own life?"
"That's not what I'm saying, Quinn." I reached for her, but she stepped back farther. "I saw what you were like in Vegas at the tournament. That's what I want for you. That freedom and self-confidence."
"Why does everyone think they know how to live my life better than I do?" she asked. "Everyone around the table tonight. Trent, my father, you, and probably even that poor Nicky. And Sienna sure thought she could live my life better, but now she's dead."
I dropped my hands. "You're right, Quinn. I'm sorry. It’s up to you. I just hope I get to be part of it."
Chapter Twelve
Owen
I left Quinn's parents' house and headed home. It took a long time sitting in my car in the driveway before I went inside.
"Something wrong with your car, man?" Jasper asked. "You started it like five times and then it turned off."
"No, it’s fine," I said. My roommate was the last person I wanted to talk to about Quinn. "Did you get the dream job?"
"Yeah, it's all lined up and it’s going to be sweet," Jasper said. "In fact, I'm going out to schmooze with a few of my new colleagues now. Wanna come?"
"No thanks."
Jasper breezed by me and out the door, leaving a strange odor behind him. I glanced at the kitchen, but the last time Jasper had cooked was over a year ago. Something smelled burnt, but it was too faint to make it out.
I had just slumped down on the couch when my phone rang. I strangled it for a moment. It wasn't Quinn, it was Scottie. I debated and then decided that he might cheer me up. No one had more problems with relationships than Scottie. He and Alison had been on and off for eight years. No matter the constant drama, they could not keep their hands off each other.
"She leave you again?" I asked.
"Owen, glad you're home. Alison left me again. Wait, how did you know?" Scottie asked.
"I took a Premonition Potion."
"Yeah, well, if those worked, I would have known in Vegas that she was only going to mess me up again," Scottie said.
"So what are you going to do now?"
Scottie always had a bold new plan. "I'm starting over. Making a fresh start. Finding a whole new world, fresh blood, all that. Hey, I hear there's a party over at Winton's. Wanna go?"
"Winton's a gamer. We've played with him for the last six years. How is a party at his place going to be a fresh start?" I asked.
"I dunno, he invited a bunch of newbies," he said.
The thought of Quinn made me cringe. "I don't know if I can tonight."
"You have to, Owen. Come on, I can't go if I don't have a wingman, and I have to go. I need this," he said.
I looked around my empty apartment. Anything was better than seeing reminders of Quinn everywhere. She needed her space, and I was determined to give it to her.
A half an hour later, and we were trapped in the entryway of Winton's condo. Someone had called in when they saw me get out of the car. The door was packed with newbies. Some wanted autographs, some wanted gaming tips, and everyone wanted to snap a picture with me.
Scottie took care of it all with a broad smile. "Why didn't I think of this sooner? You're a celebrity. I've got a celebrity wingman. That's right, ladies, Light Slayer is my wingman."
"Is it true that your avatar evolved in two days? Is that some kind of record?" a pretty woman with blue eyes asked.
Her boyfriend pulled her back inside. "It was three. Besides I heard that new girl evolved just as fast. Why don't you ask her?"
The comment kicked me in the chest. Was Quinn at the party? It could not be true. I had left her angry in her parents' basement with a full night of studying ahead of her. It would not be like her to sneak out and go to a party where she knew virtually no one.
Then it occurred to me that they all knew her virtually. Quinn had made quite an entrance at the tournament. It would not be a surprise if Winton and the whole band of local gamers found her IP address and invited her along.
"Hey, there's Quinn," Scottie said. "No, wait, man, you can't leave me yet!"
Quinn spotted me halfway across the living room and rushed over so fast that I took two steps backward. "Did you set this up? You invited me on purpose?" she asked.
I stepped closer to her and looked down over my chest. "Let me guess, a Thief named Lonesome Town invited you. That would be Winton. Not me. I'm not in the habit of stalking newbies."
"Oh, so now I'm a newbie?" Quinn asked. "No more 'this is how you really lead your life’?"
"Look, Quinn, I'm not going to apologize for having an opinion or sharing it with you. If you don't want to listen to what I have to say, that's fine with me. Your life is your life. Don't think I want to get in the way," I said. Then I stepped around her and headed for the kitchen. I was glad to find a bowl of Winton's legendary blue punch on ice.
Winton himself poured me a glass. "So, I met your girl Quinn and I gotta say, man, she is perfect for you."
"Isn't she, though?" Artemis kissed my cheek and smiled. "You are so happy when you're around her. I mean, the difference is huge. I'm so glad for you."
I had to laugh. Everywhere I went my friends told me how great Quinn and I were together – on the one night we had never been farther apart.
Scottie found me. "Don't worry, wingman, I've been doing just fine without you. Though I had a nice side chat with your girl Quinn.
Man, she is wonderful. It was good seeing you two together in Vegas. Finally, someone that makes you happy, lets you be you," he said.
That was it. I put down my blue punch and turned to find Quinn. We ran into each other in the narrow back hallway.
"I was looking for you," Quinn said.
"And I'm supposed to say that I was not looking for you," I said. She was too close, and I did not know what to do with my hands.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier. You were just trying to help," she said.
"No, you're right. I shouldn't be pushing you towards something that I want. This is your life, Quinn. I don't want you to feel any pressure from me."
As soon as I said it, all I could think about was the pressure of her lips against mine. Her firm body pressed against me. The pressure that built between us when we moved together.
"Quinn! Hey! I was hoping you might be here," the young desk clerk from the Wynn Hotel called down the hallway.
"It’s okay, go mingle. Have some fun," I said.
She squeezed my arm and smiled. I wished she had noticed the hoarse longing in my voice. I cleared my throat and watched her go. Quinn was still free to make her own decisions. We both were. What had happened in Vegas might have just been a one-time deal.
#
Watching Quinn make the rounds of the party with Dave was too much. Her smile was too bright. I could not look away. He got her a drink, helped her through the crowd, and listened intensely to everything she said. Quinn enjoyed the easy flirting, and it lit her up like a sparkling firework.
"Oh no, man, don't do this," Scottie said. He handed me a full cup of blue punch. "Not tonight. I need my wingman tonight and a wingman cannot have that look on his face."
I tore my gaze from Quinn and looked at my friend. "There's no look. See? I'm fine," I said. "Let's check out the game on the back patio."
"They went that way," Scottie said. "How about we head back to the kitchen? There's a redhead there who's making flaming drinks. I could use one of those."
I nodded, but headed towards the back patio. Quinn was sitting on the railing of the deck with Dave leaning next to her. They were chatting and laughing over something. It made my skin crawl the way he was too close to her bare knee.