Between the Lines

by Renee Harless

  While I’m home, I should reach out to him. Find out what happened. The closure would be good, will help me move on when I go back to LA. Because let’s face it, how often does someone get the chance to prove someone wrong?

  Chapter Two

  Quinn

  I TUG THE LIGHTLY worn brown leather up to my calves and smile. The pink etching of flowers looks exactly like I remember from when Izzy and I picked them out during the summer between our junior and senior years in high school.

  I stand in front of the full-length mirror attached to the back of the door and twist back and forth. My denim shorts ride high on my leg, exposing the underside of my bottom. Not enough to be considered scantily clad, but exposing the hard work I’ve put in at the gym for the past few years. My white tank top scoops low on my chest, exposing the top of my breasts pushed up high from my bra. It skims down my waist, resting just below my navel, exposing the taut muscles of my midriff.

  I hear the door creak open just as I move to the dresser to grab my license and cash for the bar.

  “Wow, Quinn. You look amazing. No one in town is going to recognize you.”

  Of course not. I’m not the frumpy girl with frizzed hair wearing oversized T-shirts.

  “Izzy, I’ve been on more magazines than I can count. I’m sure a few have found their way into town.”

  “Yeah, but you know us. We all thought they were photoshopped like most pictures of celebrities. But it’s obvious yours haven’t been.”

  I bite down on my lip at her compliment. It’s always been my struggle. My skin is thicker than the Webster’s dictionary, and I can take critiques and ridicule with the best of them, but hand me a compliment and I freeze up. My publicist tried to get me to take classes for the fear, but it never helped.

  “Thanks, Iz. Is it time to go?”

  “Yep. I figured we can grab something to eat on the way.”

  I shut my bedroom door and follow her out of the house toward her small red Honda Civic. It actually surprises me to see her still driving the same car from high school considering her family is wealthy. But that’s one of my favorite things about Izzy. She never flaunted her money; none of her family did.

  As we start to head out of the neighborhood and down the main street, I relax back into the cloth seat. After my family moved us around every couple of years, Dale City was the first place we all seemed to settle. It was home.

  I close my eyes and let the breeze flowing through the open window wisp around me. The smell of the overgrown wheat and corn fields reminds me of the times Izzy, Trevor, and I snuck out of our homes in the darkness of night and ran through the fields toward a small clearing. It was nights like that when we weren’t separated by cliques or standards placed by our schoolmates. We were just best friends relaxing under the stars. Then we turned sixteen and everything changed—boyfriends, girlfriends, plays. Our trips to the field became few and far between.

  “Whatcha thinking about?”

  I turn my gaze toward Izzy and smile. “Just remembering all the times we snuck out to the clearing on the farm.” I let out a small laugh. “Remember when we snuck the bottle of Boone’s Farm and Trevor brought the Jack Daniel’s?”

  “Oh my God,” she exclaims as she smacks her hand on the steering wheel and giggles. “We were so sick the next day, but no one suspected anything. They thought we had a stomach bug. Man, I can’t believe we got away with that.”

  “That was one of the best nights of my life. I think it was the last time all three of us were together.”

  “Well that settles it. Before you head back to LA, all three of us are going to have a fun-filled night in the clearing.”

  “That would be fun, but I seriously doubt your brother will want to join us. I’m sure he’ll be busy with his harem like in school.”

  “Harem?”

  “Yeah, a group of girls following him around like love-sick puppies. The ones who made my life miserable because I was your friend and you were Trevor’s sister.”

  “Oh, hmm. He’s changed a bit, no harem following him around. But he still has a constant carousel of women.”

  The car slows, and I recognize the glowing red and white sign.

  “I’m surprised this place is still here.”

  “The Dairy Queen is an institution and place where many fun nights begin. Are you too good for the DQ Lounge now?”

  “What? No. I was just surprised, that’s all.” I glance up at the drive-thru menu and my mouth instantly waters. It’s been ages since I’ve eaten anything greasy. “I’ll take a cheeseburger and a milkshake please.”

  Izzy smiles brightly and whoops in her seat before she places the order. We park the car in the back of the lot and unwrap our burgers. I let out a moan when the juicy hamburger meat touches my tongue. My taste buds instantly react to the flavor of the chargrilled goodness.

  Izzy’s lips wrap around the straw of her milkshake and she laughs before taking a sip. “I haven’t heard moans like that since my last boyfriend.”

  A cough erupts from my chest, startling me and causing even more to follow. The coughing lasts for a full minute, which in turn causes my abdomen to cramp up. A painful side effect of breathing down the wrong pipe when you remember a part of your past that you wish you hadn’t.

  Alex Cruz was my first real boyfriend and made sure that when we dated, he used my name to its finest degree. He had been the first actor I dated in Hollywood and used his good looks and influence to convince me that he was worth it. He wasn’t, and I never heard from him again. He tossed me to the wayside after he took my virginity and using my name to influence directors across the industry to land him major roles. Karma was on my side though, because he was arrested for drug possession and solicitation of a prostitute not too long after. Of course, he never spent any time in jail and is just as notorious now as a bad boy than as a decent actor.

  Ten minutes later, we pull up to the bar on the outskirts of the small downtown area. Sidewinders is lit up like a beacon in the night, directing any and everyone to its establishment. My eyes widen as I take in the line forming out the door, a muscled bouncer standing against the wall checking IDs and patting people down.

  “Izzy, I don’t think we’re getting in anytime soon. That line is ridiculous.”

  What a waste of makeup.

  She flips down the visor and applies some lip gloss in the mirror on the opposite side.

  “Don’t worry, that’s just Sam. He’s friends with Trevor. We’ll get in.”

  I take another glance at the line wrapping around the bar and sigh. Maybe I’m not as up for this as I thought.

  “I don’t know about this.”

  “Come on, Quinn. You’re a fucking movie star. You’ve been on red carpets with some of the most famous people on the planet. Hell, you are one of the most famous people on this planet. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few country boys.”

  “It’s not the boys,” I whisper. And it isn’t. It’s always the girls. The girls who liked to pick on me for being in drama club, who liked to make fun of the girl with a few extra pounds, who liked to shove their sexual escapades with Trevor in my face. Those girls knew how to make my life a living hell as a teenager, and I don’t suspect that they’ve learned any better as an adult.

  “It’ll be fine, Quinn. You’ll see. Let’s go.” She slides out from the vehicle, leaving me alone with my reservations.

  Taking a deep breath, I murmur, “Here goes nothing,” and follow her path.

  As promised, we’re immediately let into the bar, much to the dismay of the people waiting outside. I do my best to hide my face by looking at the ground, but I definitely recognize the look of shock when Sam scans my identification. I probably could’ve used a fake one, but I was home and I intended on being myself. I immediately snatch it from his grasp when he nods me inside, then make my way to the back of the bar, not paying attention to anyone around me.

  Luckily I bump into Izzy once I reach the elongated wooden countertop
along the back of the expansive room.

  She orders us two margaritas, and with my nerves, I don’t have the heart to tell her that I haven’t had an ounce of alcohol since that fateful night after graduation. Once our drinks are served, I take a sip and turn my back to the bar to take in the space. Booths line the side, a few pool tables reside in a room off to the left, and directly in front of me are couples grinding against each other to the music. It sort of reminds me of the scene in Dirty Dancing when Baby carries the watermelon into the employee lounge and meets Johnny for the first time. Baby was mesmerized by the dancing.

  Well, she may not have been, but as a young girl, I certainly was.

  I feel a nudge to my ribs and look over at Izzy as she points at her drink. “Do you want another?”

  My eyes shift down to the ice-filled glass in my hands and I’m surprised to find it empty.

  “Sure, but I’ll get these. Do you want another? Wait, how are we getting home?”

  “Uber.” At my confused glance, she continues, “We may be a small town, but we’re not in the dark. Sam and a few of Trevor’s friends are Uber drivers.”

  “Oh. Really?” I ask, remembering the rough group of guys Trevor used to hang with.

  “Yep.”

  I shrug and place the order with the bartender, whose eyes scan me over a few times, trying to place me but coming up empty. Thank goodness. He hands us our drinks a moment later, and we turn back around to watch the crowd. The song on the jukebox in the corner changes, and Izzy’s face lights up in delight.

  “Oh my gosh, I love this! Come on, Quinn, we need to go dance.”

  She doesn’t give me a second to decide, her thin fingers gripping my wrist tightly and pulling me behind her onto the makeshift dance floor. The crowd parts for us, mainly because Izzy pushes and shoves her way into the center.

  Before I know it, we’re dancing wildly in the center of the floor, no one around paying us any mind as we gyrate against one another.

  “Whew, that was fun. I need another drink,” Izzy says after two more songs play. She stalks off toward the bar, leaving me in the crowd.

  I try to follow, but suddenly I’m pulled back against a hard chest that rocks his erection into my backside.

  “My my, Quinn Miller. You sure have grown up.”

  My movements still as his hand snakes around the exposed skin of my waist.

  “Don’t touch me,” I seethe. I try to jerk away but his grip holds firm.

  “Come on. We’ve all seen you wearing less in those magazines. Did you come back to try a real man on for size?”

  The fury builds inside me. This is exactly what I expected to happen. People would assume things about me because of my career, because of following my dreams.

  In a flash, I rock my head backward and slam my skull against his nose, hearing the satisfying crunch of the cartilage instantly. His arm drops from my waist and I rush away through the crowd, the shouts and cries not deterring me.

  “You were always such a bitch,” the man yells out.

  I make no move to turn around and find out who it is, but I know it’s someone I went to school with.

  “I’ll take a shot of tequila, please,” I beg from the bartender.

  “Quinn, are you okay? Is that a good idea?”

  “I have no idea, Izzy,” I reply as I toss back the shot and then tap the minuscule glass for a second. “Just keep them coming,” I demand.

  The bartender eyes me speculatively and then shoots a glance to Izzy, who’s pulled out her phone and is gesturing wildly with her arms while she speaks.

  My mind begins to fuzz from the alcohol, and I welcome the blurriness. I welcome the fog blocking the unsettling memories that seem to have flooded my mind the moment I stepped back into Dale City.

  The four shots of tequila loosen me up, and I soon find myself back in the crowd, paying no mind to the hands that try to grip and possess me. Instead, I’m lost in a world of my own, where I imagine the man of my dreams pressing himself against me as we sway to the music. Telling me how much he wants me, how much he has always wanted me. I let myself go and relax for the first time in years, picturing the green eyes that stole my heart as a young girl.

  The hands pull away suddenly, but I don’t stop moving to the beat of the music. My arms hold my glass above my body as my hips sway back and forth.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.”

  My mind registers the deep and seductive voice as it caresses the back of my neck. Gooseflesh erupts along my skin, and I immediately halt my gyrations. I recognize the voice and the sensations it’s always given me.

  I turn around slowly, anticipating the first time I’ve seen him in years. And there he stands—blue shirt, blue pants, and golden badge.

  Wait, what? Badge?

  Oh fuck.

  The bad boy of Dale City is now… a cop? And a sexy-as-sin one, as well. So, the troublemaker has reformed his ways to serve the common good. And I am royally screwed, because if there’s one thing that tickles my fancy more than a bad boy, it’s a man in uniform.

  “Uh, hello there, Officer,” I stammer as I register his hands on my arms, moving me toward the exit with Izzy following closely behind.

  “I’m here to take you home.”

  “Am I in trouble?” I ask as I stumble out the door and onto the gravel. Before I crash into the rough asphalt, a strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me back against his taut chest. My breath comes out in a whoosh at the movement, and then a gurgling sound rumbles in my stomach.

  “Oh fuck. I’m going to be sick,” I exclaim as I try to push away. I make it just far enough to vomit beside a car as I rest my arm on the hood.

  “Are you sure you can handle her, Trevor? I knew I should’ve stopped her before the fourth shot.”

  “Four? Jesus Christ, Izzy, you should’ve stopped her at one.”

  “I know, but she seemed so lost. I was just trying to be a good friend.”

  I heave again after listening to their conversation and sigh once I feel like the rumbles have stopped. Standing up, I turn around but suddenly realize it was too quick. The world closes in, blackness surrounding me.

  “Shit,” Trevor shouts.

  All I remember before I pass out is strong arms wrapping around me and the feeling of weightlessness.

  Chapter Three

  Trevor

  I SWAT AT THE alarm blaring on my nightstand. Five o’clock comes way too quickly when you didn’t get in until after midnight. Knowing I need to get a workout in before I head to the office, I begrudgingly roll out of bed. Searching in the darkness, I pull on a pair of black basketball shorts, tug on a pair of socks, and lace my running shoes.

  Running has always been a way of clearing my head, and with all of the memories flooding into my mind, running is exactly what I need. Memories involving a woman who had once been the center of my everything.

  Closing the door behind me, I step out of the house and make my way down the driveway toward the road. I try my best to keep my attention on the asphalt in front of me, but my eyes wander on their own accord to the small ranch across the street. The house where my sister and her best friend are residing.

  “Stop it,” I mutter as I force my attention from the house, wondering if Quinn is resting peacefully.

  I hadn’t imagined how good she would feel in my arms as her small body pressed against my chest when I carried her up the stairs. I was surprised when I approached the dance floor to find Quinn rotating her hips seductively to the music. Izzy’s phone call had been frantic and concerned. I had immediately left my desk where I had been filling out the day’s paperwork and made my way to Sidewinders, not expecting what I would find when I arrived. Quinn half naked and dancing as if her life depended on it was not on my spectrum.

  For a moment I focused on her: her clear porcelain skin, the sinewy muscles of her legs and arms, and the deep cut of her shirt revealing the ample breasts I had daydreamed about since I was a teen. She had
n’t just changed the way she had dressed; instead, she had gotten better with age.

  Quinn had been a typical woman with a buzz—a little bit of slurring, unsteady on her feet, and a bit touchy-feely. She may not remember that her hand had brushed across my cock that had already been straining behind my pants, but my dick certainly did.

  And with that thought, my cock begins to stiffen behind my shorts as I run, never a pleasant experience. I try my damnedest to think about anything else. Mrs. Englehart in her muumuu walking around town with half of the dress tucked in her adult underwear. Old Mr. Johnson buying a box of condoms at the pharmacy for his new ninety-year-old girlfriend.

  There that did it. Thank God.

  Five miles later, I jog my way back up the steps of my house. I feel the pull to turn my attention around, to get one last glance at Izzy’s house, but I refrain. Instead, I slam my front door shut and head to my bathroom in desperate need of a shower.

  The tension in my body subsides as I step under the hot spray. I reach for the soap and rub it against my heated skin, the suds dripping down my body in a parade of their own. I close my eyes and relax under the shower head, but instead of the blankness that I yearn to welcome, I’m blessed with visions of Quinn’s lush body pressed against mine as I held her up when she passed out.

  My cock grows, and I reach down and palm it gently, the erection jumping against my hold. I stroke it up and down as I recall how perfectly her ass fit against my hips, the cheeks cradling my member completely. The way the swell of her lush breasts rubbed against my forearm. The way my arm wrapped snuggly around her trim waist. The scent of her hair as it filled my nostrils.

  What would it be like to take her? To feel her naked body pressed against mine? To slide my dick into her hot center?

  I stroke myself faster, imagining all of the things I want to do to Quinn Miller. I’m startled as I erupt in my own palm, something I haven’t done in years. There is never a shortage of women to finish the job for me. I feel like the same sixteen-year-old I was when Quinn was part of my life and we had been best friends. But when my fantasies about her became out of control, I knew I needed to step back or I’d hurt both her and my sister. The two most important people in my life.