by Joey Bush
"Until you caught him with another guy."
The shots arrived and Quinn grabbed hers immediately. "Yeah, there is that. Ugh, I can't get that out of my head."
"This might help. Cheers," I said. We knocked back the shots. "Alright, now that you've had that, I have to say he looks like a complete asshat."
Quinn laughed. "That's exactly what Sienna said. She made me promise she could be there when he met our parents. Can you imagine?"
"So, I still don't get it," I said. "Why did you date him?"
She scrunched up her nose and gave me an adorable, cringing smile. "He was a good kisser."
"Next round is on you and now I definitely need another shot," I said.
Quinn's smile faded as she watched him flirting around the dance floor. "I wonder why he dated me."
"Are you kidding?" I asked. I got up and joined her on her side of the booth. "Just look at you."
"Exactly. I'm dressed as if I've been hanging out in my parents’ basement. Oh, wait, that's exactly what I've been doing."
"We can fix that," I said. "May I?"
She held her hands up, her beer in one. "Be my guest."
I dug both hands into her chestnut hair. It was just as thick and soft as I always imagined. I rubbed my fingers along her scalp and avoided her eyes. "Didn't your sister teach you the trick for fuller and perfectly mussed hair?"
Quinn slapped my hands away. "Alright, fine." She fluffed her roots up then combed her fingers through the shiny waves.
"Now unbutton the bottom buttons, tie them in a bow," I said, eyeing her light blue shirt. "And take my belt. Cinch it tight around that tight little waist."
Quinn giggled and stood up to follow my directions. A glimpse of her flat stomach had me reeling harder than the shots. "How's this?"
I reached up. "Just a few more buttons to undo here." I slowly undid two buttons to reveal the smooth, perfect tops of her breasts.
"Is he looking?" Quinn asked.
"Use both hands to flip your hair and wiggle your hips a little while you do it," I said. My voice was gruff, but she heard me.
Raising her hands up revealed more of her flat stomach and tight waist. More than a few customers appreciated her curves. Then, Quinn shook her hands through her long hair and more heads turned. I sat frozen in the booth. If I stood up, I would take her in my arms and never let go.
"Oh my God, I think it worked. Is he coming over?" Quinn asked. She shifted from foot to foot, letting her hips sway.
"What? Oh, yeah. Looks like he's coming over. Oh, and he is not looking happy," I said.
Quinn's strawberry lips curled. "Good. Now what?"
"You want to make him jealous, right?" I asked, my heart hammering.
"Yes. He deserves it, don't you think?"
"Who the hell cares about him?" I said.
I stood up and slid my hands around Quinn's waist. My fingertips touched bare skin under her light blue shirt. It was like silk and suddenly, I was on fire. I pulled her hard against me, bending her back as my lips captured hers.
Quinn tasted like heaven – a strawberry kiss with just a hint of intoxication. She breathed in, the shock registering in a soft gasp. The sound ignited me further, and I raised a hand to tangle in the back of her hair. With her head cradled in my hand, I bent her farther back and devoured her sweet lips.
She stumbled back a step and her arms locked around my neck for support. I stood up, bringing her up on her tip toes and against my body. Quinn fit every contour, yet she was not close enough. I needed more of her along every inch of me.
She leaned into me, her lips parting, and her tongue running along my lower lip. I growled under my breath, losing control. Our tongues tangled, the delicious friction driving me farther from rational thought.
"Quinn? What the hell are you doing?" Trent asked.
I felt him put a hand on my shoulder and try to pry us apart. She broke the kiss, but her chocolate eyes stayed riveted to mine.
"She's doing whatever the hell she wants. What's it to you, Q-Tip?" I asked.
Trent's face turned a ruddy red. "That's my girlfriend," he snarled.
"You've got to be kidding me," Quinn said. She pushed between us and jabbed Trent in the chest. "Don't you remember when I caught you having sex with John and we broke up? It really wasn't that long ago."
The bar crowd was very interested and suddenly, Trent was getting all the jeers instead of me. He looked shocked, as if he had never been without the support and positive attention of an entire room.
"He cheated on you with another man?" I said at high volume.
Trent stepped back. "Come on, Quinn. We can work this out. I love you."
"Liar," Quinn said. She tossed her hair and my heart soared. "I just texted you with that same exact suggestion and you didn't even stop dancing to respond."
The crowd had definitely turned on Trent. Quinn stood with her hands on her hips. If my clenched fist and the combined disapproval of the other drinkers were not enough, the look on her face was enough to make him turn tail and run.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Quinn
It was impossible to concentrate in class. The lecturer was doing her best with slides and models and some of the most graphic photographs any of us had seen. It did not matter. All I could think about was Owen.
The kiss had been like honey – slow, sweet, and it had clung to my lips long after Trent interrupted us. Owen had laughed all the way home about the look on Trent's face. I wanted to revel in it too, but I could still taste Owen on my lips. How could he kiss me like that and then pretend it was nothing?
The lecturer started on a new procedure and I tried to take notes on the research. Three bullet points and my mind was off on another daydream. I kept dreaming up scenarios in which Owen and I would have to kiss again. Maybe he was being pursued by some video game groupie and he wanted to put her off nicely. Or I was being flirted with by some wildly inappropriate man and Owen took my safety into his own hands.
No matter what scheme I created, I knew deep down that might have been the last kiss I ever shared with Owen.
"How was class?" Darla asked when I returned to our dorm room. She sat cross-legged on my bed with a still-steaming cup of coffee.
"I have no idea," I said. "Thanks for the coffee. What's the occasion?"
"Well, for one, I'm glad you are back," Darla said. She moved over and made room for me to sit down. "And secondly, it’s been too long since we had a little gossip session."
My heart tripped. I loved gossip, but there had been too much about me lately. It was still hard to walk around campus without people offering condolences or whispering about Sienna behind my back. Plus, Trent had been seen all over campus making out with various men and our break-up was public news.
I sipped my coffee. "I heard some students might protest tomorrow. A sit-in outside the admin office."
Darla shook her head. "Want to know what I heard?" she asked.
"I have a feeling I don't want to know at all."
"Too bad because what I heard is just way too delicious not to talk about. I mean, you can trust me, we'll gossip about it, but nothing will leave this room," Darla said.
"Oh, God, it must be worse than I thought. What did Trent do now?"
"Trent? You mean besides mope, weep, and have jealous fits all over campus?" Darla took a quick sip of her coffee but could not be coy for more than four seconds. "Alright, so Trent told everyone he caught you making out with some stud in Vegas. I asked him about it and turns out I've met the guy. Haven't I?"
"No," I said.
Darla slapped my shoulder. "No way. You are a terrible liar, Quinn. You kissed Owen, didn't you?"
"No. He kissed me," I said. "And it was only to make Trent jealous. He was just being a good friend."
"Well, I have it on good authority that it was a hot and heavy make-everyone-in-the-bar-jealous kind of a kiss," Darla said.
"That's good, right?" I asked, hoping to steer the conversation i
n a better direction. "And it sounds like it worked. So, Trent is really jealous?"
"Oh, who cares about him?" Darla asked. "Tell me more about Owen! I know you've been not so secretly in love with him forever. Bet that kiss made it feel more than reciprocated, am I right?"
My shoulders slumped. "I have no idea. Owen never said anything afterwards."
"And what about you?"
"What do you think?"
Darla sighed. "That you melt at the thought of it and think about it all the time. I know I would."
"Oh my God, Darla. What am I going to do?"
"Answer your phone, that's for sure," she said. Darla handed me my phone.
It was Owen.
"Hello?" I asked.
"Quinn, I'm glad I caught you. Please don't tell me you have to study this weekend. There's a great tournament in Vegas. Low-key, just gathering players for the bigger events, but I want you to come with me. You'll have a really good time, I promise," Owen said.
"Whoa, wait, slow down. You want me to join you in Vegas this weekend?" I tried to grab Darla's hand, but she had already stood up. She went to my closet, pulled out my small suitcase, and started packing. "For a video game tournament?"
"Honey, who cares if he wants you to dress up as a blue alien? You're going," Darla whispered.
"I told you I think you have potential as a player. And you said it yourself, you love playing. Come on, Quinn. Live a little," Owen said.
"You know I should be studying. I have hundreds of assignments to catch up on," I said.
"Come with me, Quinn. Don't make me beg. We'll have fun. Unless you're scared of a little fun?"
I stood up. "I am not scared of fun. I am fun."
"Live a little. I dare you," Owen said.
I could hear his smile and it was infuriating at the same time as sparks sizzled in my stomach. "Fine. You're on. I'll call when I'm close."
I hung up the phone, and Darla squealed so loud I had to clap my hands over my ears. "That's my girl! Oh, Quinn, thank God! This is just what you need."
"Did that really just happen?" I asked. My phone rang again and I was sure it was Owen calling back to tell me he'd called the wrong girl. "Oh, great, it’s my father."
"Quinn? Shouldn't you be studying?" my father asked.
"I saw it was you. I thought it might be important," I said.
"Well, it is. Your advisor has asked me to meet with her regarding your nursing program. She said she had time on Monday."
"Sorry, this weekend is shot. I've got so much to catch up on. I'll talk to her and get back to you with a better time. Gotta run!" I hung up the phone and froze in place. "I just lied to my father."
"Like I said, girl, you need this," Darla said. She handed me my suitcase and smiled.
#
I drove the long and arid stretch between Los Angeles and Las Vegas in a blur. I was lucky the route was straight and easy. My heart swung on a hard pendulum between wild hopes and certain embarrassment. Had Owen invited me as his date or as his friend? Was I like his kid sister or his secret crush?
It was ridiculous. There was no way that Owen was interested in me. We got along great, but I would always just be Sienna's kid sister.
Though, there had been little signs and hints and moments. My mind could not seem to leave those alone. It occurred to me that Owen had always seen me in a certain light and I was the one whose eyes were just opening.
No, that was too good to be true. I was bound to embarrass myself that weekend and I knew it. So when I parked in the Wynn parking ramp and immediately got lost, I took it as a sign. I was out of place.
I shared the elevator with four ultra-blonde swimsuit competitors who had shapes I had only seen molded from plastic. They even wore bright pink and impossibly high heeled shoes. I was short, dark, and completely out of fashion next to them. The elevator doors opened and a few people chuckled as I tripped out the elevator after the swim suit models.
Next up, I was almost trampled by a train of showgirls. That disaster spilled me into the lobby where a sea of gamers had taken over. I did not even fit in there amongst the black-clothed, pierced, tattooed, and fiercely well-informed crowd. Most of them seemed to be speaking a language I would never understand.
"Conjuring takes too long. If you play with a keyboard instead, you can program the F keys," a tall and surprisingly rotund young man said. He was wearing a black t-shirt that said “Flag Off.” It depicted a red flag flapping atop an extended middle finger.
"There are a few redundancies in the x-level play," a young woman with blue hair and a black stocking hat explained to her friend, "but it depends on your operating system. Just go to the app store and download the latest."
Not only were they speaking rapid fire in foreign terms, but everyone else seemed to know where to go but me. I finally reached up on my tip toes to squint at the lobby signs. Just after I spotted the registration sign with a large arrow, I saw Owen.
He was surrounded by a tight knot of people holding out Dark Flag booklets. Owen smiled and laughed and answered a dozen questions, plus signed four booklets before I even remembered to breathe again. I had forgotten he was Light Slayer, the hero of this world. Why on earth had he invited me to join him in Vegas for the tournament?
At that moment, Owen turned and somehow, across the sea of fans and gamers, he saw me. A slow smile spread across his square jaw, and I saw more than one woman hope it was for her. It took me a full four seconds to realize he actually was looking at me. Then, instead of standing in an overwhelming crowd, I felt like I was in orbit. One sigh and I would whirl away to the farthest regions of the universe.
"Please save me," Owen's lips mouthed across the lobby.
I did not think that could be right. My mind came up with at least six other more rational phrases than Light Slayer asking me for help. Still, Owen kept making eye contact and smiling at me. I started to fight the crowd towards him. Better to find out now if he was flirting with some statuesque blonde behind me.
I was about ten steps away when two very large men in black suits took up positions on either side of Owen. "Mr. Redd, could we ask you to move to the rotunda? We're having a bit of a foot traffic problem."
"No problem," Owen said. "Sorry, I'll see everyone later."
I half expected the bouncers to push me aside, but Owen reached out just in time. "There you are," he said. "Thank God."
"You said it was just a small tournament," I said.
"It is. Registration is always like this. Plus, someone plastered a picture of me here all over social media. I guess the game has been gathering a lot more fans than I thought," Owen said. He laced his fingers between mine and pulled me closer as we walked through the crowd.
"So, you're really a rock star of the gaming world, huh?" I asked.
Owen shook his head. "Who knows? Someone might take me down during the tournament. That's half the fun of Dark Flag – anyone can rise to power."
"My liege," a trio of blushing young girls bowed to Owen as we passed.
"Right. Guess you gotta soak it up while you can," I said. With all the attention Owen was getting, I had a new theory of why he wanted me there. "So, you needed me in a fake girlfriend situation to fend off all the crazy Dark Flag groupies?"
Owen laughed. "Not a bad idea, but no. I really thought you would have fun here."
I tried not to be disappointed but lagged behind when someone tapped me on the shoulder. "Seriously? You look just like your avatar. I recognize you from Dark Flag."
I turned to face a perfect oval face with bright violet eyes. Her long black hair was straight to her waist and shining black. "You recognize me? That's a little weird, isn't it?"
The gorgeous gamer scoffed. "If you're not observant, you're not going to be a very good player. You've been stalking the Light Slayer and hanging around. Kinda pathetic, don't you think, newbie?"
I looked at my fingers interlaced with Owen's as we made our way slowly through the crowd. "Does this look like stal
king?" I asked.
Owen turned around. "Anya! It’s so good to see you. How are you?" He let go of my hand and embraced the black-haired woman.
She smiled at me around his shoulder. A fiery irritation flashed over me, but she was right – I was just hanging around Owen.
"Anya, this is Quinn. Quinn, this is Anya. She's one of the first gamers I worked with when I was learning code. Her first game made millions. She's the one that's redefining the gamer lifestyle," Owen said.
"I didn't catch what you do, Quinn. How do you two know each other?" Anya asked. She held out a delicate and bejeweled hand.
Owen shifted from one foot to the other. "Quinn and I have known each other forever. I used to date her sister Sienna."
"Really?" Anya cocked a sleek black eyebrow at me. "You don't look anything like her." She pulled Owen farther away from me. "I thought you were done with Sienna. She was no good for you. And now you're with her sister?"
I prayed my cheeks did not look as red as they felt. Owen shook his head and hesitated. "It's not like that."
"Well," Anya said, "I have our suite all ready. Let's get you settled in." She took Owen's arm.
"Your suite?" I asked.
Owen unhooked Anya's arm. "It’s kind of a tradition. Anya springs for a big suite and all our gamer buddies stay there. Not the most sophisticated way to travel. It’s more like a big sleepover, but it gives us time to practice."
"Don't worry," Anya said, "I'll let my security guy know who you are. You can visit anytime."
I stopped and looked back at the crowded registration counter. There was a slim chance I would get a room in the same hotel.
"Sorry, Anya. This is Quinn's first tournament and I promised I would show her the ropes," Owen said. "We'll check in and meet you."
"Nonsense. There's room enough for strays in the suite too. If that's what you want, Owen," Anya said.
Owen smiled and picked up our suitcases.
The suite turned out to be an exclusive two-bedroom villa. The main room featured a fireplace flanked by two couches. The dining area had an eight-foot table and full bar. There were two bathrooms and every luxury imaginable.