Love Squared

by A. E. Neal

  "Quinn? You okay?" Nick asked he was worried about her as he watched the color drain from her face. He scooted closer to her on the couch, trying to comfort her, but suddenly she stood up.

  "I need some air," she said in a panicked tone and dashed out of his apartment, slamming the door behind her.

  She ran down the stairs barefoot, two by two, barreling out of the building and gasping for air. She leaned over, supporting herself on the brick wall beside her. "Stop, please stop," she repeated to herself.

  She heard the door creak open behind her, but didn't dare turn around.

  "There you are...shit." She heard Nick say through the thumping in her ear drums. "You alright?"

  Another deep breath, she thought. Just breathe.

  She felt his hand on her shoulder and jumped. "Jesus, Quinn. You are not okay. Your lips are blue, you have no shoes on and you're shaking. Let me take you inside."

  She was still focused on the thrumming in her chest and the blood pumping in her ears that she couldn't speak.

  "It's okay. Please, come back inside." He rested his hand lightly on her lower back and rubbed slow, small circles in an attempt to calm her. "Quinn?" he asked again.

  Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to cry. That asshole wouldn't get any more tears out of her, she thought. She had made a pact with herself long ago that he would never make her cry again.

  She slowly turned to face Nick. He held his arms open for her and without another thought, she walked right into them, burying her face against his warm chest. He wrapped his strong arms around her and guided her back into the building.

  He walked her to his couch and she collapsed onto it, tucking her legs underneath her. He returned a moment later with a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  "Thanks," Quinn said weakly.

  "Do you want some water, another beer, more whiskey?" he asked.

  She knew she had freaked him out and that he deserved an explanation for her behavior. "Whiskey."

  He poured a tall glass of whiskey over ice and handed it to her. As she brought it to her lips, she inhaled the familiar scent, took a large gulp and felt it burn as it coated her dry throat.

  "I'm sorry. You'd think after being in therapy for so many years, I'd know when I'm having a panic attack," she tried to joke, but Nick wasn't buying it. "

  "You really freaked me out," he said, gripping the back of his neck with one hand while pacing back and forth across the apartment.

  "It happens when I get caught up thinking about my past. I'm so sorry, Nick. I can usually control it, but I guess it was inevitable after the day I had."

  "You wanna talk about it?" he asked carefully.

  She took another swallow of whiskey and set the glass on the edge of the table. "Trust me, you don't wanna hear it."

  Curiosity getting the best of him, he rounded the couch and took a seat next to her; the heat from his thigh against hers caused her to finally relax. "First of all, don't judge a book by its cover. Secondly, I'm a really good listener, or so I've been told. Try me."

  "I dunno, Nick. I don't even know you. I mean, what do you do? How old are you? Are you married? Kids? Oh my God, if you're married, you have to tell me."

  He held a hand up and she stopped talking. "Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Let's start with a simple one, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "I moved here from New Mexico to open my own restaurant. Yes, I know it's cliché, being that Denver has more restaurants per square mile than any other city."

  She nodded and took another sip of whiskey.

  "I'm thirty-two, I was married and instead of getting into details, let's just say we decided to go our separate ways."

  "Understandable."

  "I don't have any kids and the only reason I moved into this apartment, is because I bought the building."

  "What?" she asked as her jaw hung open.

  "It's prime real estate, in one of the most up and coming neighborhoods. Once the paperwork goes through we can start the renovations."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Yeah, I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you earlier, but it was the first time since the divorce I've actually hung out with a girl that wasn't naked and straddling me."

  "Ugh...really? Well, you can just get that thought out of your head right now," she scolded and shook her head. "Oh my God. I can't believe this is happening. I've lived in the same apartment forever. Where the hell am I supposed to go, Nick?"

  "I don't have the details yet, but I'm sure we can work something out."

  "Work something out? You're kidding, right? Jesus. What about Gladys? And the old man in 2-B? Or Frank?" He could see that her wheels were turning. Could this night get any worse?

  "Frank's the super right?"

  "Yeah, he's lived here for twenty years. What about everyone else? You obviously didn't think this through, did you?"

  "I have a couple of investors and a lawyer working on the contract. From what they've told me, the residents of this building will have six weeks notice, which is pretty gracious considering."

  "Gracious?" she huffed. "And here I thought you were a good guy, but I was obviously mistaken." She rose to her feet, which were still tingling from the cold, tossed the blanket at him and grabbed the bottle of whiskey.

  He knew he shouldn't have said anything, but it was already too late. "Please don't leave Quinn. Up until a few minutes ago, we were having fun. Come on," he pleaded.

  "Be honest with me then. Were you or were you not trying to get me to sleep with you?" He stood up and took a few steps towards her before she put her hand up to stop him. "You were, weren't you? God, how dumb do I look?"

  "I didn't at first, I promise. I told you I'd behave and I was willing to keep that promise because you seem like a really nice girl."

  "Yeah, and I guess I was actually supposed to believe that, huh?" She turned on her heels and pulled the front door open. "Goodnight, Nick."

  "For what it's worth, thank you for tonight, LA."

  "Right," she snapped and slammed the door behind her.

  Nick couldn't believe the night had done a full three-sixty within a matter of minutes. He knew he screwed up any chance of ever being friends with Quinn, let alone something more. He paced his apartment with a full glass of whiskey in his hand, before tossing it across the room. The amber liquid splattered against the wall as glass shards littered the floor beneath.

  After getting in her pajamas, Quinn padded into her room and crawled into bed. Her mind raced, she couldn't understand why her entire world was crashing down around her all of a sudden. All she had ever wanted was a quiet new life alone, but it seemed the universe had other plans for her. She was mentally and physically exhausted and shortly thereafter, quickly succumbed to much needed sleep.

  Chapter 9

  The sun peeked through the curtains in Quinn's bedroom, morning had come all too quickly and as she glanced at her alarm clock, she realized she'd slept for almost twelve hours. As with most weekdays, she ran through her morning routine, which included drinking entirely too much coffee, showering, feeding Ziggy and finally found herself wondering where she'd end up in a few months time.

  What the hell was she supposed to do with the bomb Nick dropped on her? There had to be a way to stop the sale of the building. She couldn't just let him throw all of them out in the streets in the middle of winter.

  She stomped around the apartment as Ziggy followed and meowed. Quinn knew acting like a child wouldn't solve anything, but with the copious amounts of caffeine she'd already consumed, she just didn't care who heard her throwing a temper tantrum anymore.

  "This is bullshit," she told Ziggy, who rolled onto his back at her feet. "Where the hell are we supposed to go, buddy?"

  She remembered tossing her phone somewhere on the kitchen table the night before, so she searched through the stacks of miscellaneous magazines and newspapers until it turned up.

  It was that moment, she realized she didn't have anyone she
could call. Her dad wouldn't even know who he was talking to and she didn't have any friends.

  "Fan-fucking-tastic."

  The orange tabby responded with a seemingly bored meow and scampered off into the bedroom.

  "Oh, shut up, traitor," she scolded and tossed the phone on the counter.

  She got dressed and decided to head to the library to use their internet since she had yet to buy a computer of her own. There had to be something she could find to put a stop to this madness. Since the Denver Public Library was too far for her to walk and she didn't have the patience to wait for the bus, she called a cab, grabbed her phone and purse, then hurried downstairs.

  Three hours later, she hadn't found anything that would actually work in her favor. As the new owner of the building, Nick had every right to end the lease agreement terms they'd all signed and her heart sank. She searched for other apartments, condos and even homes to share, but everything was way out of her price range. The only thing she could do was move her father from his current assisted living facility to one that wouldn't cost two grand a month. She felt the bile creep up her throat as she searched for other nursing homes in and around the Phoenix area.

  She jotted down a few phone numbers, logged off the computer and headed home. Luckily for her, a bus was waiting at the corner of Thirteenth and Broadway.

  After the worse day she could've possibly had, she decided to curl up on the couch to watch some TV with a bottle of wine, Ziggy and two orders of chicken lo-mein.

  Three hundred crappy channels and the only thing she could find worth watching was a movie on Lifetime. Forty minutes into Her Sister's Keeper, she was forced to rethink her pity party of one, for fear she'd burst into tears. With less than a half a bottle of wine left, she felt restless and was tired of drowning in her thoughts. She pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, a hoodie, a pair of fur-lined boots and a jacket before escaping into the cold night air.

  Quinn hadn't been on a walk in months through the neighborhood at night. A few of the houses still had Christmas lights glowing, which made her laugh, but they were still beautiful all the same. As she rounded the corner, she spotted the tiny neighborhood dive bar, coincidentally named, The Dive and made her way towards it.

  The bar was probably older than the neighborhood itself, but the owners had recently renovated, bringing in modern fixtures and a stainless steel bar top. Although smoking in bars had been banned for almost five years, it still smelled of stale beer and tobacco.

  She took a seat at the end of the bar and ordered a vodka soda. An older man with a long white beard sat on a stool in the back of the bar and began playing a guitar. The song was one she'd heard before, but couldn't put her finger on the name of it.

  A noisy group of people in their early-twenties near him, were dancing, laughing and talking over the music.

  "Rude," she grumbled, taking another sip of her drink.

  "I agree," a familiar male voice said, causing the hairs on her arms to stand.

  She turned to face the man who'd spoken and almost fell off her bar stool when she saw his beautiful, arrogant face.

  "What are you doing here?" she snapped.

  "I should be asking you the same thing."

  "Seriously Jaysen, what are you doing here?"

  "Funny story really. Wanna hear it?"

  She nodded, sensing the irritation in his voice.

  "Well, I was supposed to meet this amazing girl for dinner last night, but instead, I got stood up. And what's even more hilarious, I left her a message, but she never called me back."

  "I'd say you deserved it," she spat.

  "Ouch. That hurts, Quinn."

  "That reminds me. How the hell did you get my number?"

  "I have my ways. Plus, now I know it really was you I called. You'd be surprised how many Quinn's live in this city."

  "I thought my note came across pretty loud and clear," she interjected.

  "Hmm, right. The note. Which was quite clever on your part, but since the camera wasn't able to focus in on it, I have no idea what it said," he lied. He knew exactly what her note read, but forced himself not to think about it. "Pity, though, because I figured you wouldn't be the kind of girl to stand up a guy like me."

  "Ha!" she snort-laughed. "A guy like you? You mean an arrogant jerk, like yourself?"

  "Arrogant? I was thinking more along the lines of charming, witty and devilishly handsome."

  She nearly choked on her drink. "Oh please, you can't be serious."

  "Can we start over, please?"

  "Have you been listening to anything that has come out of your mouth over the last few minutes? Have you? Because all I've heard is what a selfish prick you are, you have no idea how to talk to someone who's fairly fucking normal, do you? You're used to having women throw themselves at you and like I've told you before, I am not one of them. So please, Jaysen, do me a favor and leave me alone."

  He could see that she was still angry with him, but as with all things in Jaysen's life, he wouldn't give up that easily. He had to gain her trust again and soon. "Fine, have it your way," he said as a wicked smile crossed his lips. "What are you drinking?"

  "I don't need another. This one's already full." She tipped the glass toward him.

  He called the bartender over, slipped him a few hundred dollars, leaned over, whispered in his ear and the bartender handed him a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses.

  Jaysen picked up the bottle, poured two shots and handed her one. "Go on. Take it."

  "Could this day be any more fucked up?" she mumbled before taking the shot.

  Jaysen tipped his back and downed it in one gulp. "Impressive, little girl."

  "Little girl?" she asked.

  "Don't get all bent outta shape about it. It's a term of endearment."

  "To who? Your niece?"

  He laughed. Not quietly, but a full fledged belly laugh, "I like you Quinn."

  "Well, that makes one of us."

  "Are you always this much fun?"

  "Are you always such an ass?" she snapped back.

  He poured another shot and tipped his head back. Moments later, the bar cleared out and she knew he was the one behind the sudden disappearance of their fellow bar-goers.

  She shot daggers at him and he smiled, hopped off his barstool and took her arm.

  "What're you doing?"

  "Dance with me." It wasn't a question.

  "Are you always so demanding?"

  That sly grin said it all and she stepped down, swaying a bit as her feet touched the ground.

  "I'm drunk," she said. "I don't think this is a good idea."

  "You're fine, come on," he said pulling her behind him towards the back of the bar.

  He stopped, let go of her hand and hurried over to the jukebox, searched for the perfect song, then shoved a dollar bill into the slot. After a moment, Man Eater began to play and he heard her laugh.

  "Seriously?" she called out as music filled the empty bar.

  He sauntered back towards her, belting out the chorus and pointing at her. She had an idea and knew it could very well be the alcohol talking, but she rushed past him before he could grab her and nearly tripped into the jukebox. She stuffed a dollar in the machine and quickly made a song selection.

  She retrieved the glass of whiskey from the bar, took a giant gulp and returned to the carefree, uncoordinated, sexy man, named Jaysen Beckett. He took her drink from her and as their fingertips touched, the sensation sent shivers down her spine. He set the drink on one of the tables, grasped her hand and pulled her into his chest for the remainder of the song. He wanted her close to his heart, exactly where she belonged from day one.

  When the song Quinn had chosen began to play, he laughed. She was adorable.

  "What?" she asked innocently.

  "Katy Perry?"

  "Oh yeah, this is my jam," she said as she mouthed the lyrics to him.

  She was surprised he actually knew the song and it took a moment for him to register that she
was indeed singing it to him. She didn't look as confused as she thought he would, instead she took it as an invitation to once again pull him close to her. Quinn's head buzzed from the whiskey and her inner party animal screamed to be set free, so she took him by the hand and wrapped her arms around his neck, which was a task, since he was so much taller than she was. She swayed her hips to the beat of the music as she playfully traced his chest with her fingertips, following the lines of the muscles underneath it. Her touch sent his body into overdrive. He had to have her, drunk or not. He wanted to taste her lips more than anything, hear her say his name as he made her come with his fingers.

  Jaysen gripped her hips and pulled her into him. Through her drunken haze, she caught him staring right at her. His eyes were warm like honey, but with something darker and fiery behind them, which caused her to almost lose her balance.

  "Whoa, take it easy," he gripped her tightly as he breathed into her neck, pulling her back into his chest.

  "I'm definitely drunk," she mumbled. "But I wanna keep dancing. I haven't danced in forever."

  Where was the quiet, socially awkward Quinn she knew and loved? Where'd she run off to? she thought to herself, but her head was clouded by the alcohol and she couldn't think straight any longer.

  She spun on her heels, her back now facing him and his hands crept along her backside then around her waist. She leaned into him, wiggling her hips back and forth before bending over to give him a better view of her ass. His dick was on the verge of bursting through the seams of his pants.

  He let out a low hiss as she continued to sway against him. Once the song ended, so did her inhibitions. She skipped over to the machine once again, stuffed another dollar bill in and chose a different song. To her surprise, he had something else in mind entirely and when he lifted her up, grasping her ass with both hands, it was the first time she'd felt his hardness through his tailored pants. He groaned when she stroked him with the palm of her hand. She ached for the connection they'd shared earlier that day, but his mouth had ruined all chances of anything happening between them. For now though, she wanted nothing more than to taste his sweet lips, so he'd have nothing left to say. He wanted to tear her clothes off, just so he could feel her naked body beneath his as she begged him for more.