Out of Frame

by Megan Erickson

  I had to talk to him. I had to see him.

  There was a knock at the door.

  With a deep breath, I opened it, and for the first time in months, took in the sight of Quinn Mathers. I was greedy for him. He wore a green T-shirt, black shorts, and checkered Vans. I meant to say hey, or something appropriate, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, “Did you see the reunion show?” Quinn swallowed, then nodded. He didn’t speak, and I flexed my grip on the door. “What did you think?”

  He glanced down the hall, then back at me. Like a dumbass, I hadn’t moved out of the doorway so he could walk in, so I backed up now, holding the door open for him.

  He took two steps inside, and I shut the door.

  I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I shoved them in my pockets. “Quinn?”

  He launched himself at me, and I fell back onto the bed, Quinn landing with an oomph on my chest. “You did it!” His eyes were huge, and I wanted to stay locked on them forever.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  Quinn’s palms squeezed my cheeks. “Are you okay? Is everything all right?” He scrunched his face. “No one said anything crappy to you, did they? I’ll punch them in the junk.”

  I laughed. “No one was mean, but then I haven’t signed online to see the shitshow.”

  Quinn’s thumbs stroked my cheekbones. “Fuck ’em.”

  He rolled off of me and sat on the bed with his legs crossed. I braced myself with my hands behind me and twisted at the waist to face him. His eyes were down, fiddling with a loose thread on the sole of his shoe. I leaned closer. “Kinda feels weird to be near you on solid ground.”

  He lifted his head and I was struck again by how blue his eyes were. “When I went back to school after spring break, sometimes I had to convince myself that whole trip was real, that it had actually happened. That I met you and that I . . .” He blushed and looked back down.

  “That you what?”

  His lips shifted over his teeth, and then he tilted his head so one blue eye squinted at me. “That I fell for you.”

  His words hung in the air between us for a minute, and then they dropped, each one soaking into my skin, sending my heart into overdrive. I’d laughed it off the last time he said those words. I wasn’t laughing now.

  I put a knee to the bed, and rose up on my hands to lean over him until he was forced to lay back. “No, you didn’t fall for me.”

  Quinn didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as he stared up at me. “I didn’t?”

  “You fell with me, Lucky. We fell together.” I pressed my lips to his and he opened immediately, tugging me down, taking my weight. His legs fell open, and I settled myself between them as we poured everything we had into each other.

  Beneath me, Quinn sighed and moaned. His slender body wriggled and squirmed, like he wanted to levitate off the bed with me.

  I rucked his shirt up to his chest and splayed my hands along his rib cage. The skin jumped below my palms as he wrenched away from my kiss. He lifted his forehead, touching it to mine, as we stared down our bodies. Then he let his head fall back on the pillow with a soft laugh. “I bet I can get undressed quicker than you.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Oh yeah?”

  He nodded, biting his lip. “On the count of three. One.”

  “Two.”

  “Three.”

  I levered myself off of him, already pulling my shirt over my head as he arched his back to tug his pants down his legs. He toed off his shoes at the same time as I struggled with the button on my shorts. I should have worn fucking basketball shorts because now Quinn’s shirt was off and he was naked.

  Completely naked.

  And my pants were around my knees. “Dammit!” I tried to shove them down the rest of the way and only succeeded in tangling them up with my ankles and falling to the bed on my side. Quinn laughed, helping me with my shorts as I lay on my back.

  Then he crawled over me. And kissed my chest. “What do I win?”

  “What do you want?”

  He traced my collarbone with his tongue and my cock jerked against his hip. “Um, how about a private island?”

  “I’m not Idris Elba.”

  He changed direction, going lower now, and I lifted up onto my elbows to watch him. He winked at me. “I guess I’ll settle for sex with you in a hotel room in North Carolina.”

  “You’ll settle, huh?”

  “I’m patient. We can work up to the private island.” And then he took me into his mouth.

  I sucked in a breath as the sight of his pink lips stretched around me, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked. I had to touch him, because this wasn’t some random faceless guy in a club. This was Quinn. I ran my fingers through his hair and kneaded the muscles in his shoulders. Quinn moaned his appreciation, sending waves of vibration down my shaft and into my balls.

  He pulled off and began to kiss a trail up my chest to my mouth. “Please tell me you have stuff. I want . . . you to fuck me. Please, Jay.”

  He hadn’t said my name since he’d walked through the door, and the sound of it on his lips turned me on even more.

  Who gave a shit what anyone thought of me? I had Quinn, who for some reason liked me back, and that was all I wanted right now.

  I motioned to a bag on the table beside the bed, which I’d placed there with hope. He dug inside and pulled out lube and a condom. I rolled it on, then motioned him closer. He straddled my hips, and with lube-covered fingers, I prepared him.

  His eyes fell closed as he rocked back onto my fingers as they stretched him. I had thought about this many times in the last couple of months—what it’d be like to be inside Quinn. He tugged my hand away, an impatient sound rumbling in his throat. Then he grabbed the base of my shaft and slowly sank down.

  I sucked in a breath as Quinn’s body took me inside him. His fingers curled on my chest, his nails digging into the skin. When his ass met my hips, he wasted no time beginning to ride me. He threw his head back, and I massaged his thighs and his ass, then gripped his cock to pump it in time with my thrusts.

  “Look at me,” I said, as I could feel my orgasm barreling toward me. Quinn’s eyes lowered and locked with mine. I licked my lips. “You’re willing to bet on me again?”

  His chest was flushed, his lips parted. “I wouldn’t have showed up if I wasn’t.”

  I groaned, tugging him down to me, and when I came, I cried out into his mouth, and he did the same as his cock jerked between us.

  It was inelegant and messy and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. His head was tucked into my neck and my lips were at his ear. I squeezed him closer, my arms wrapped around him, my cock still inside of him. Neither of us moved. The only sounds were our harsh breaths and the pinging noise of the old air conditioner. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

  ***

  Quinn

  I wrapped the hotel’s white robe around me and did a little spin with my arms out. “Eh? How does it look? I had no idea this hotel even had robes!” I threw myself onto the bed. “Or room service!”

  Jay sat on the bed next to the phone, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs while studying the menu. “What do you want?”

  I crawled next to him and flopped down on my stomach. “French fries.”

  He didn’t look away from the menu. “Okay.”

  “And a slice of apple pie.”

  His head turned to me and he lifted an eyebrow. “Okay . . .”

  “And maybe some mozzarella sticks. I could so go for some of those.” He didn’t even answer me now, just let me ramble. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling as I thought of all the things I was hungry for. “Oh! And a soda and those cute little bottles of ketchup and maybe a pickle?”

  “A pickle.”

  “Yeah, a pickle.” I turned my head. “What, you don’t like pickles?”
/>
  He looked at me with amusement and didn’t bother answering me. I continued to stare at the ceiling as he ordered. After the awesome reunion sex, we’d both decided we were starving. I wasn’t sure I’d ever ordered room service anywhere.

  When he hung up the phone, he reached over and ran his finger down my nose. His smile faded and a wrinkle marred the skin between his brows.

  “What are you thinking about?” I asked.

  He shook his head roughly, like he was trying to clear a thought. “Nothing. I don’t want to think about anything but being here. That’s what we do, right? You and I? We enjoy the moment.”

  I sat up, wrestling with the tie around my waist that was cutting off my circulation. “No, that’s what we did when we had no choice. We can talk about the future now . . .” My voice trailed off as a sick feeling settled in my gut. “Right? Or was this just . . .”

  Jay grabbed me, and seconds later he was sitting against the headboard, me straddling him. I sat back on his thighs and tried not to touch all that gorgeous dark skin stretched over sleek muscles. Because that was distracting for a serious conversation. Even though I wanted to touch it so badly.

  “Quinn.”

  I lifted my head.

  There was no hesitation in his voice when he spoke. “I came here to start something with you. Not end it. Not . . . to have one last memory. To make more. But I’m freaked the fuck out. My agent dropped me and I’m floundering here. I don’t know how I’m going to make money or how I’m going to be able to see you as much as I want. I can’t afford to fly here from LA all the time—”

  He stopped talking when I began to bounce on his lap. His eyebrows quirked as he stared at my grin. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You don’t have to fly.” I kissed his nose.

  He batted me away. “What’re you talking about?”

  “I took the job.”

  He squinted at me. “What job?”

  “The job in California. Near Los Angeles.” I held my arms out to the side. “So problem solved.”

  His mouth moved, but he seemed to have no idea what to say, and his eyes flickered like his brain had to catch up to the conversation. I leaned in and kissed his lips. “You’re cute when you’re confused.”

  “Quinn!”

  “What!”

  “You’ll be near me? In LA?”

  “Yes! I’ll have a real adult job and everything. It’ll be amazing.”

  “You’ll be . . . near me?”

  I stopped bouncing and stared into those warm brown eyes. “I’ll be with you.”

  He wrapped those big arms around me and squeezed me until I was wheezing. I opened my mouth on his shoulder and bit down until he released me, then I kissed the teeth-dented skin. “Oh, that’s gonna leave a mark,” I muttered.

  He didn’t seem to care as he held me at arm’s length. “Quinn, I don’t know what to say. Please tell me that’s what you really want.”

  “I made the decision before this happened; I made the decision a month ago. I need to get away from all of this.” I waved my hand around the room. “My parents. This town. I want to start somewhere new where I have to figure out who the fuck I am and who I want to be. Because the only thing I know for certain right now is I want to work and I want to be with you.”

  Jay hugged me again wordlessly. Not so hard this time, but he trembled a little under me. I leaned my cheek against the top of his head and let him hide his face from me.

  I couldn’t imagine what he was going through, the fear of what he’d done and how that would impact everything. I ran my hand along the back of his head. “I’m so proud of you.” He didn’t answer, but gave me one squeeze. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and we sat like that until there was a knock at the door and a soft, “Room service.”

  While we ate, Jay seemed to perk up. He’d ordered about three meals, and he would finish one plate before moving onto the next.

  I crunched on my French fries, extremely pleased with my tiny bottle of ketchup. “So are you ever going to brave the Internet again?”

  He forked some mashed potatoes into his mouth. “I kinda have to. Gotta check e-mail and shit.”

  I stood up and walked over to his bags, rummaging around until I found a slim silver laptop. I held it up. “May I?”

  “Sure.”

  I sat cross-legged on the bed and opened up the laptop. Jay rolled the desk chair over beside me, holding a plate, so he could eat and look over my shoulder.

  When the password prompt came up, Jay mumbled, “CaptainCrunch99. All one word.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him.

  “Hey, don’t judge my password. Yours is probably FruitLoop69.” I shoved him and he almost dropped his plate. “Foul!” He yelled.

  I shook my head at him and typed in his password. The first thing I opened was his e-mail. I squinted at the screen. “Is your agent Rick D. Fox?”

  “Uh?” he asked, scooping the last of his chicken into his mouth. “No, why?”

  I pointed at the screen. “You got an e-mail from him and the subject line is ‘Inquiry for Representation.’ You got another one, too, from Margot Bosman and Katie Re—”

  The laptop was turned as Jay abandoned his plate and hunched over the computer. His finger flew over the track pad, and his mouth dropped open. Lower, lower. Small gasps and muttered curses escaped. Finally he leaned back and stared at me with wide eyes, hands on top of his head like he’d just run a marathon. “Quinn.”

  “What? I can’t see anything!”

  “Quinn.”

  “Quit saying my name and tell me what’s going on.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on. All I know is that I have a lot of people asking to represent me. Because . . .” He licked his lips. “Because . . . studios have been putting out calls asking for me. They want to know who my agent is.”

  I jumped up and stood beside him to stare at his overflowing inbox. “Are you serious? Like, they want to offer you work? Or auditions, or what?”

  His head slowly turned. He was like a shell-shocked soldier. He just nodded, then went back to his computer, his hands flying across the keyboard. He did a quick Google search of his name and we stared in awe as headline after headline made it seem like he was the most in-demand TV personality. “He told me it’d be career suicide, that fucking bastard,” Jay murmured. “Fuck him. I’m black and I’m bi and I’m still standing.”

  I began to pace. “We need to strike while the iron is hot! New head pictures, or whatever those are called—”

  “Headshots.”

  “And I can build you a website. Do you have a website?”

  He shook his head.

  I threw up my hands. “I can help with that! I can be useful! And—”

  He tackled me so hard, my breath left my chest. One minute I was standing, the next I was on my back in the bed, Jay on top of me, grinning. “Lucky.”

  I growled. “What?”

  “Stop.”

  “I want to be supportive—”

  He cupped my face, placing his thumb over my lips. “Don’t you know? You’re my good-luck charm. All you gotta be is you. That’s all I need.”

  I blew out a breath as he moved his thumb away. “Well,” I muttered. “I guess that’s good. That’s all I know how to be.”

  “Thank God,” he said with a laugh. And then he kissed me.

  Epilogue

  Quinn

  “Just lay down.”

  “No.”

  “Come on, you can rest. Close your eyes.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Landry, no!”

  “I won’t do it again.”

  “Yes, you will. Get away from me.”

  The tall one with the ballcap—Justin—launched himself off the couch and tackled his boyfriend, Landry, to the ground. I j
umped out of the way as they came skidding to a halt, Landry laughing so hard, he couldn’t breathe as Justin huffed and wrestled the seagull feather out of his hands.

  He stood up and pointed the feather at him. “I swear to God, if you stick this up my nose tonight when I’m sleeping, I’ll replace your shampoo with ketchup.”

  Landry sat up, a smirk on his face. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  “Can I have my feather back now?”

  Justin growled and stomped into the kitchen.

  Riley flopped down on the floor with Landry as they whispered together amid outbursts of laughter, clearly conspiring something.

  I turned to Colin. “Um, are they always like this?”

  He was lying on the couch, somehow still paying attention to the TV despite the racket. “Yep, Justin and Landry have been best friends since middle school. Not much has changed, they just live together now. And sleep together.”

  Oh, well then.

  Colin and Riley had a tradition now, where they stayed with their friends Justin and Landry in a beach house in the Outer Banks of North Carolina every summer. This year they invited Jay and me. It so happened that he had a break in filming, so I took the time off work and we flew out.

  Landry and Riley were close, and I learned they’d all met when Riley and Landry became friends over e-mail. Throwing six of us in a house together for a week had been a bit of a challenge, but Jay said he was happy to be here, and it showed in the relaxed set of his shoulders; the stress lines had nearly disappeared from around his eyes.

  He slept in until noon every day and then sought me out for kisses and cuddles—usually involving nudity.

  I walked into the kitchen, where Jay stood talking with Justin. He was calmer now, his ballcap pulled low over his gray eyes. He watched me as I sidled up next to Jay, who wrapped an arm around me. Justin leaned back against the counter, a small smile on his face.

  “Why ketchup?” Jay asked.

  “He hates it. Makes him gag.”

  “You two are weird,” I said.

  His grin grew wider. “Yeah. We are. But it’s all good. We’ve been together a couple years now, and I still can’t look at him without losing my breath.”