by Monica James
“Where are you off to now?” she asks, untying her hair and rubbing the back of her skull.
I shrug. “Home,” I reply, not wanting to confess my home is actually a motel room.
“Do you want to get a coffee? I know that sounds stupid, seeing as we serve it all day. But there’s a little coffee shop up the road which is open twenty-four hours, and they have the best selection of pie,” Tabitha asks, hopeful I’ll say yes.
I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been invited out before, and I’m touched she would ask. But I can’t. What would I say? I’m not good in social situations. And what if she starts crying again?
“I wish I could, but I can’t… I have a few things I have to do. Sorry,” I say, shutting my locker door, hoping I don’t sound impolite or ungrateful.
When I turn to meet her disappointed eyes, I suddenly feel terrible, so I add, “But maybe next time.”
Even though I know that won’t happen.
She nods happily. “I’d really like that. I’m sorry about today.”
I look at her confused, so she clarifies, “You know, about the crying all over you.”
“Ah,” I reply. “That’s okay, no problem.”
And it’s funny, because I actually mean it. Yes I was hopeless in how I dealt with her tears, but I didn’t mind her leaning on me. It felt…nice.
Normal.
Tabitha is looking at me, and I know she wants to discuss why she was crying.
I give in.
“So, Brad upset you?” I ask, pulling out my ponytail and fluffing up my hair, as it feels limp and flat.
“Yes,” she answers, her lower lip trembling. “He and I… we…”she says, wringing her hands together.
“You what?” I ask, confused, and actually a little curious.
What would a nice girl like Tabitha be doing with a jerkoff like Brad?
“Well, we, you know…” she replies, squirming in her seat, looking at me with big eyes.
“Huh?” I question again, totally not following.
“We…” she mutters.
As I witness her freckled cheeks color to a bright red, I clue on.
“Oh? You and Brad?” I ask, surprised that she would sleep with a douchebag like him.
Tabitha sniffs and looks slightly offended as she stands up and reties her long hair. “Yes, me and Brad. Is it that hard to believe that someone like Brad would want to have sex with someone like me? I mean, is it because he’s the Sheriff’s son, and I’m just… me?” she asks, her voice quivering.
I don’t get why she’s upset? And who would have thought an asshole like Brad, who can’t drive, has the Sheriff as his dad.
As I witness Tabitha uncomfortably rearrange her t-shirt, which hugs her curves a little too tightly, I get it.
“No, Tabitha,” I say, taking a small step towards her. “I just meant, why would someone as nice as you want to have sex with a douche like Brad?”
Tabitha looks at me, her green eyes bulging out of her head. Her mouth falls open and a loud laugh slips past her lips as she breaks out into fits of laughter.
I didn’t think my comment was funny, as I meant every word, but as long as she’s laughing and not crying, then I’m happy.
“Thank you, Paige,” she says in between chuckles. “I really needed to hear that.” Before I know what she’s doing, she throws her arms around me and is hugging me-again.
This time, however, I’m not so rigid and slowly raise one hand, patting her on the back softly.
She pulls out of the embrace, clueless to how much of a step I made in returning the simple gesture.
“Well, see you tomorrow,” she says over her shoulder.
I take hold of my belongings and before I leave, I turn to look at myself in the mirror above the small basin.
My eyes are still sunken in, and I still resemble the living dead, but I look different. Is this what being happy looks like?
Whatever it is, I hope it sticks around.
Taking one last look at myself, I decide I need to visit a Walmart to buy some red hair dye to touch up my hair, as it’s bordering on looking trashy.
With that on the agenda for the evening, I leave the locker room on a mission to find the closest store.
I bump into Tristan out in the hallway, hands filled with glasses.
“Hey, Paige,” he says, smiling. “How’d your first day go?”
“It went great,” I confess, because it is the truth.
Tristan gives me yet another dimpled smile. “That’s awesome. So, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“You bet!” I say with enthusiasm, and am surprised that I am actually looking forward to coming back.
“Okay, cool. Well, have a good night,” he says, slipping past me into the direction of the kitchen.
“Hey, Tristan!” I call out, taking a few steps toward him.
“Yeah?” he answers, looking at me intently, as we’re standing a few feet apart. “What’s up?”
Under the bright hallway lights, I can’t help but notice the hypnotic color of his warm, honey brown eyes, and I’m surprised I haven’t taken note of them sooner.
Totally embarrassed, as I know I’m staring, I quickly recover. “Do you know where the closest Walmart is?”
Tristan smirks and I instantly see the similarities between his smirk and Quinn’s.
Quinn.
After rushing around today, I didn’t even see him leave, and I felt kinda bummed, because I liked him being around.
“Sure, it’s just up the street. Turn left and walk about three blocks. You can’t miss it.”
“Okay, cool, thanks,” I reply happily, as it’s not too far out of the way.
“Hey, if you like, I can drive you. I only have a few more things I gotta do,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
What’s up with the people in this town? Why is everyone so friendly? I still can’t wrap my head around it. But going anywhere with Tristan, for some unknown reason, unsettles me.
As I look into his hypnotic eyes, I know the reason why.
I find him attractive. I did from the moment I met him.
But the thing is, I really don’t have time to be finding anyone attractive, because I’m not going to be here long enough to follow through with it. Besides, boys like Tristan are way too nice for girls like me.
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind walking,” I reply.
But as I look down at the glasses he’s carrying, I scold myself for not offering to help him.
“I can give you a hand, though?” I offer, gesturing with my head to his full hands.
“Thank you for the offer, but I got it. Go enjoy your night, you’ve earned it,” and he smiles, giving me a small wink. “Goodnight, Paige.”
“Goodnight, Tristan,” I reply, and hightail it out of there, as that wink just punched me straight in the guts.
The cold air knocks some sense into me as I walk briskly down the sidewalk, shrouding my face with my hood and sinking into anonymity.
What was I thinking back there? I shouldn’t be gazing into anyone’s eyes dotingly. Especially someone I work with.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Maybe I’m not cut out for this whole normal life. Maybe I’m better off doing what I know best, and that’s detachment. Not only detaching from people, but also detaching from reality. It’s what I do best and stops me from… feeling.
Thankfully, I see the big Walmart up ahead, as the wind has picked up, and my thin sweater and shorts don’t offer much warmth from the breeze.
The door dings as I enter, alerting the overweight security guard that someone has entered. He looks at me, and I give him my best flirty smile, hoping he won’t ask to check my bag once I leave. I don’t want him finding the illegal items stowed away in my backpack.
He happily returns the smile while adjusting his gun belt, in hopes his pissy weapon is going to impress me. Batting my eyelashes as I walk past, I know I’m off the hook as h
e hungrily licks his full lips, eyeing me.
Men are so stupid. You can bat your eyelashes, or show off a bit of leg, and all sense of intelligence goes flying out the window—and what’s left, ends up in their pants.
This is a little trick I learned while dealing Blow to a corporate hotshot at one of those high-rise buildings, where security was mega tight.
I never walked around without my gun, knife, or mace, and whenever security asked to check my bag, I had to ensure I wasn’t carrying. And well, that doesn’t work for a fifteen year old female drug dealer, walking the dangerous, seedy streets at 1 a.m.
So, I learned how to flirt and talk my way out of being detected for what I truly was.
A con.
I came to realize quite quickly that this world is full of perverts. And no matter where I went, or who I met, this fact never changed.
And that’s another reason why I never got caught.
I was street smart.
But socially smart? Put me into a situation where I had to act normal, I was far from smart.
I’d even go as far as to say that I’m socially retarded.
Today is a perfect example of this.
Cruising down the cosmetic aisle, I find that the brand of hair dye I normally use is on sale. Grabbing a box, I decide because I have a little more money left over, I could use a heavier sweater. Here’s hoping I can pick one up in the bargain bin, as I don’t want to spend more than twelve dollars.
I find a few plain ones, but really don’t care as they are fleecy and warm. With my black and white sweater and hair dye in hand, I make my way down toward the registers. However, when a big bag of nuts catches my eye, and it’s on sale for 99 cents because it’s the last bag, I head toward the stand, wanting to buy it for Grandpa to say thank you.
I’m surprised that this gesture seems so natural to me, and I’m not second guessing myself. There’s something about Hank that just makes me want to be a better person.
Reaching for the nuts, another hand snatches the bag out from under me before I have a chance to seize it.
No!
I’ll fight, kicking and screaming for this last bag.
My game face is on, and I’m so ready to spear daggers at the offender, but curse the irony of life when I see who I have to fight.
Quinn.
“Seriously, are you stalking me?” I blurt, huffing my hair out of my face, as I suddenly feel flustered.
Quinn smirks that damn arrogant smile while tonguing his lower lip. His tongue passes backward and forward over his piercing, and I know he’s doing this to distract me.
But I will not get sidetracked. Those nuts that he’s currently clutching to his broad chest are mine.
“So, we can do this the easy way where you give me those nuts, and no one gets hurts. Or we can do it the hard way, which ends in you being beaten to a pulp by a girl.” I smile, sinisterly sweet.
Quinn holds up a hand in surrender, while the other is hugging the nuts. “Ooh, you talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?” He chuckles.
I take a step closer to him, and don’t fail to notice the massive height and weight difference between us.
But I’m street smart, remember, and I know how to play dirty.
“Don’t make me hurt you,” I threaten, putting my hands on my hips, trying to expand my chest and appear tough.
This, of course, just earns me a laugh from Quinn.
“I’d like to see you try, Red,” he cocks an eyebrow at me daringly.
Red? I don’t even question where this nickname originated from, as I have other pressing issues I must deal with.
“Oh, you’re so going to wish you didn’t say that.”
Quinn dips down to meet me at eye level, strands of his hair falling over his bright emerald eyes.
“Yeah?” he whispers, his breath caressing my cheeks.
“Oh yeah,” I confirm nodding, giving him big, innocent doe eyes, while tugging on my lower lip.
Quinn’s eyes drop to my mouth, distracted by the way I’m pulling on my full lower lip.
Okay, so let’s visit the point I made earlier. Men are stupid. You can bat your eyelashes, or show off a bit of leg, and all sense of intelligence goes flying out the window- and what’s left, ends up in their pants.
And this time is no exception.
This time, however, the flirting doesn’t twist my stomach in knots, because the person I’m flirting with is someone I actually find… attractive.
I play up my ploy, fluttering my eyelashes and looking up at him openly.
“So, you going to hand them over before I beat your ass?” I say softly, trying my best to sound seductive.
Quinn shrugs, which emphasizes the broadness of his upper torso.
“Go on then, give it your best shot.” He smirks, mischief reflecting in his amused eyes.
Pulling out the big guns, I slowly slide my hand up his chest and up around his neck. At first he looks shocked that I have touched him, and quite frankly, so am I, as I have never really had to use this kind of tactic before. I don’t usually touch, just more flirt from afar.
I ignore the voice of reason, as it is screaming at me that touching him is just my hormones demanding I get my hands on this tall, dark, and perfect specimen standing in front of me.
But as I tighten my grip around his neck, my fingers lightly toying with the soft hair at his nape, we both shiver, and I forget this is actually all a ruse. My hands wander of their own accord, and my fingertips begin tracing circles on the side of his neck involuntarily. I can feel his pulse begin to quicken under my touch, and my heart matches his steady beat.
What am I doing? This response to him—is this normal?
My eyes flick up to his face, and I steal a minute to take in his soft, poignant eyes, knowing there is more to Quinn than he lets on.
I have never been this close to him… or anyone and I want to take in every aspect of him, as I’m not sure if I’ll ever get an opportunity like this ever again.
His nose is evenly sloped on both sides, complementing his sharp, angular jaw, which is coated in dark stubble, shadowing the pointed planes of his face. He has three tiny freckles scattered sporadically around his right cheek—a feature which could be considered feminine or ‘girly’ is anything but on him. They only highlight that strong jaw line and add to the appeal that is Quinn.
But it’s his mouth that I remain transfixed on. His lips are deliciously full, and I can’t help but follow the movement of his mouth as he sucks on his bottom lip, drawing his small piercing into his mouth, sucking it lightly.
I know I’m totally staring, but I can’t help it. His lips part and I see a hint of silver, glistening under the bright store lights.
It is a tongue ring.
Why does that just add to his appeal?
But holy shit, I have to mentally slap myself because I need his nuts.
Well, not his nuts, but the nuts he’s holding.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, and standing this close to him, I can see the top of the stud, sitting securely in his mouth.
“What deal?” I ask, his voice lulling me into a sleepy bubble.
“I’ll give you this bag of nuts if you tell me your name.”
“What?” I ask, stunned, cocking my head to the side.
That’s it? Surely there’s got to be a catch.
“You heard me,” he replies, his eyes making me feel naked under his penetrating gaze.
“What if I don’t want to?” I reply.
I can’t tell him my name because… I don’t want to lie to him.
Quinn shrugs. “Well, you go home empty handed.”
I don’t know why, but the thought of lying to him doesn’t sit right with me.
But as I look into his hooded eyes, I know it’s because he would never lie to me. And he deserves the same respect from me.
I don’t understand why I feel this way, so I decide I would rather play dirty, than have to face the reasoning behi
nd my decision.
My hand is still wrapped around his neck, and I know it’s now or never. So, slowly gliding my hand down the side of his throat and over his collarbone, I rest my palm on his chest, pretending to be deep in thought about his offer.
His heart is thumping heavily under my hand, and it’s good to know I’m not the only one about to have a heart attack.
“Why do you want to know my name? I mean, what would you do with that piece of information?” I ask, emphasizing the word, do, as I inch my face to his.
Quinn smirks, totally falling for it. As he opens his mouth, ready to answer, I make my move. With lightning quick speed, I yank the nuts out of his grip and pull away, grinning stupidly.
Quinn is still leaning into the space I inhabited two seconds ago, his mouth moving wordlessly.
Like I said, men are stupid.
“You were saying?” I smile, chuckling softly at the expression on his stunned face.
Quinn tongues his upper lip and grins. “Touché, Red. I guess I kinda deserved that.”
“You sure did. So how does it feel to be outsmarted by a girl?” I ask, grinning like a fool while hugging the nuts to my chest.
Quinn shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It’s all good. I got to look down your top, so we’re even.”
“What? When?” I inquire, mortified, my hands flying protectively to my chest.
As I see a small grin twitch at the corner of his lips, I know he’s lying.
“You jerk!” I say, attempting to punch him on the arm playfully.
Quinn ducks out of the way. “Well, technically you weren’t wearing a top when I looked, so…”
My face flushes a deep crimson red, as I know he’s referring to when he walked in on me in the shower.
“Don’t you dare say another word,” I warn, cocking my eyebrow at him in caution.
He raises his hands. “Hey, a gentleman never tells, but…”
I turn around, beyond mortified that we are talking about my nakedness in public.
“Goodbye, Quinn,” I throw over my shoulder as I practically run to the registers with my goods in tow.
I’m still in earshot when I hear him mutter, “I can’t promise not to think about it.”
I don’t know why, but as I leave the store, I’m grinning from ear to ear.
