Hanging by a Moment (Keeping Score #2)

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Or . . .” She walked her fingers down my stomach to the button at the waistband of my shorts. “I could do . . . this.”

  She popped the button and then slowly, slowly tugged down the zipper. I could almost feel her fingers on me. Almost, but not quite.

  “You’re killing me.” I ground out the words between clenched teeth.

  “Am I?” Quinn flattened her hand against the muscle at the top of my thigh. “I don’t want that. Maybe I should do . . . this then.”

  She twisted her wrist and suddenly her fingers closed around my cock, over my boxers. I sucked in a breath and screwed my eyes shut, thinking of anything I could to distract myself from the pleasure. Cold toilet seats. Snails. Aunt Snook’s gelatin molds.

  “Okay.” I spoke out and opened my eyes to Quinn watching me, her head cocked. “Sorry. I had to dial it back before I spewed all over you.” I touched her cheek. “Proceed. I’m good now.”

  “Glad to hear it.” She moved faster than I expected, given how relaxed she’d seemed. Before I could say anything, her mouth was on me, only the thin cotton of my boxers between her sweet and wicked lips and my dick.

  “Aw, fuck, babe. Ohhhh . . .” I watched as her head bobbed up and down, thoroughly wetting the cloth that covered me. Shooting me a quick and speculative glance, she paused, stretched the elastic around my jutting cock and shimmied the underwear down my legs.

  “That’s better, isn’t it?” This time, the wet heat of her mouth encircled my erection with no barriers between us.

  “Well, it sure as hell isn’t worse.” I loved the feeling of her sucking on me, but I also knew I wouldn’t be able to hang in there very long. Not today.

  Quinn rose up over me, as though she’d heard my thoughts. “I need you inside me. Having you in my mouth is incredible, but—I need you.”

  Straddling me again, she took me in one hand, rubbing the head of my dick against her swollen sex. I wanted nothing more than to pull her down onto me, impaling her on my cock, but I hesitated for a minute.

  “Quinn, I don’t have a condom with me. Do you?”

  With wide eyes, she shook her head. “No. I never—we never kept them in here, in case my mom went looking for something in my room.” The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “You don’t have one in your pants? In your wallet?”

  I tried to push myself up a little bit. “No. I haven’t carried one with me since we—since you and me.” I stroked the side of her cheek. “I haven’t been with anyone else, Mia. I couldn’t. It never felt right after us. I only ever wanted you.”

  She stared into my eyes. “Really?”

  “Really truly.”

  I watched her chest rise and fall, and I sensed she was struggling to make sense of everything. I wondered if she trusted me.

  “I haven’t, either. But I’m still on the pill.” She bent, touching her lips to mine. “I don’t want to wait another minute, Leo. I need you, right now.”

  With those words, she lifted up again and sank down on me, slowly easing me into her until we were as close as possible. I canted my hips, trying to hit the right spot inside her, remembering with perfect clarity what she liked. I palmed her tits, pinching both nipples between my fingers and thumbs.

  I didn’t have any idea what I’d done to deserve this—to earn the chance to be back inside the girl I’d loved and wanted for so long. I was fairly sure I didn’t deserve it. But I was here again, and damned if I wasn’t going to hold on tight.

  “Oh.” Quinn breathed out and moved her hips in a circle. She’d found what she’d been looking for, the perfect position and motion. Her eyes fell closed again, her lips pressed together, and her forehead wrinkled a little as she concentrated on the pleasure.

  When she moaned again, I dropped one hand to the place where we were connected, and the next time she lifted up, I pressed my fingers against her clit.

  The force of her sudden orgasm stole the last shred of my control, and I growled out her name as I thrust upward, holding Quinn’s hips until the most intense, mind-blowing pleasure flooded into me, stiffening my body into one convulsing muscle.

  It took me more than a few minutes to come back to myself. The world and the sky had exploded around us, and my vision had gone black. I blinked, trying to catch my breath.

  Quinn slid into my arms, and as I gradually recovered, I realized that her body was shaking again.

  “God, Leo. Oh, my God. My father . . .” She wept into my shoulder, her tears soaking my skin as she let go and cried with abandon. “He’s gone. He’s never coming back. It . . . hurts. So fucking much. Oh, my God.”

  I couldn’t do anything but stroke her hair and murmur quiet, meaningless words into her ear. I couldn’t undo this one; I couldn’t make it better. This heartbreak was real, the grief was intense, and the loss was forever. All I could do was hold her and promise over and over that I was never going to leave her. Not again.

  Slowly, the sobs shaking her body lessened. Her tears subsided, and her breath slowed. And eventually, finally, she slept in my arms.

  When I was certain that she was deeply asleep, I risked shifting a little to pull a blanket from the end of her bed up over us. I had a hunch that one parent or another would sneak up to check on things pretty soon, and none of us was ready to deal with Quinn and me, naked together in her bed. Not yet.

  I eased my phone from my back pocket and typed a text to my mother with one thumb.

  She’s asleep. Don’t let anyone come up here. We’re okay.

  I knew my mom might have a million questions for me afterward, but I also knew that for now, she’d respect my request. And with that assurance, with Quinn’s comforting warmth on top of me, I let my eyes drift shut and slipped into a deep and healing sleep.

  My stomach growled, and that was what woke me up. I couldn’t remember when I’d last eaten. We’d been just about to sit down to dinner the night before, when my mom had gotten the frantic telephone call from Lisa Taylor. I’d been in the kitchen already, pouring a glass of lemonade, and I’d glanced over at my mother’s face when I heard her voice.

  “Oh, my God. No. No. Lisa—what—oh, my God. Okay. Yes, I’ll head over now. Yeah. No, I know. I just can’t—yes. I’ll see you there.”

  My dad had just come inside with a plate of burgers he’d been grilling outside. He was whistling, I remembered now. We’d had a relaxed Saturday after the excitement of graduation and the party over at Quinn’s house. That was my parents’ usual MO: they worried that too much fuss or out-of-the-ordinary activity would wear me out, make me more susceptible to getting sick. So a busy day was always followed by one at home.

  My mother had turned around, and my father saw her face. He’d stopped whistling, slid the plate onto the counter and gripped my mom’s arms.

  “What is it?”

  Her eyes had flickered to me. “It’s Bill. That was Lisa, and she said the police called her from Carrie’s house. Bill was—he was in an accident, and oh my God, Mark. He was killed. Bill’s dead.”

  I’d heard what she said, and I was dizzy. Bill? Quinn’s dad? He couldn’t be dead. I’d just seen him yesterday. I’d sat with him for a while at the party, and he’d talked to me about some of the new medications the doctors had me taking. As a pharmacist, he was always interested in my treatment. But then, typical of Bill, he’d also asked me what I wanted to do in college. I’d told him that I had thought about majoring in history and philosophy, with the possibility of teaching after graduation.

  “You’d be a great teacher, Nate.” He’d smiled. “You have more insight and maturity than guys twice your age. I can definitely see you doing that.”

  “We’ve got to go over to the house.” My mother was speaking again, staring at the phone in her hand as though it had some answers she couldn’t quite comprehend. “Lisa and Joe are driving Carrie to the hospital. She has to . . . identify him. And she doesn’t want Quinn there, of course. I said we’d go wait with her. God. Oh, my God, Mark, what’re we goi
ng to do?”

  My father was shaken. He looked blankly at my mother. “I guess—I’ll just cover up the burgers and put them away. Right? Or should I take them with us? Maybe Quinn will want something . . .”

  “God, Mark. No. She isn’t going to want to eat. Just put the fucking hamburgers down and come on. We need to get there now. Lisa doesn’t want to leave her alone. She said Quinn’s in shock.”

  It was the first time I’d ever heard my mother drop the F-bomb, but she didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t care. I followed both of my parents into the garage, and in silence, we all got into the car. My dad drove the familiar route slowly.

  “For God’s sake, we need to get there today,” my mom snapped.

  “Yeah, but we want to get there in one piece. Not going to do anyone any good if we end up speeding and get into an accident, too.” My dad’s voice was tense, and whether it was his tone or what he said, my mother began to cry, loud, heaving sobs.

  My dad gripped the wheel tighter and swore under his breath. And I just sat there, still moving on automatic pilot, wondering what the hell I was going to say to Quinn when I saw her.

  Carrie, Lisa and Joe were just coming out the front door as we pulled up into the driveway. My mom sprang from the car and met them, wrapping Carrie into a tight hug while Dad and I straggled behind her.

  After a few moments, Joe steered Carrie toward his car, which was parked in front of the house. Lisa paused to speak to us.

  “Quinn’s in the kitchen. She hasn’t said a word since we got here. They’re both—God, they’re both in shock. The police were still here when we arrived.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “Just see if maybe you can get Quinn to—I don’t know. Talk. Or eat. I don’t know.”

  My mother nodded. “We’ll take care of her. Are you sure you’re okay to go to the hospital with Carrie?”

  “Yes. Joe and I will take care of that, and then we’ll bring her back, and we can figure out what happens next.” Lisa shook her head. “Of all of us . . . you know, I never thought we’d be helping them plan Bill’s funeral. Mine, maybe. But Bill . . .” She glanced over her shoulder. “I need to go so we can get this over with. I’ll text when we’re on our way back.”

  We stood there, the three of us, watching Lisa trudge across the grass to the car where Joe and Carrie waited. For the first time in my memory, I was dreading going into Quinn’s house. I didn’t know what to expect; Quinn had always been the strong one of us, the one who made everything better. Sure, over the last year, when she was getting over Leo, she’d been a little quieter. A little more reserved. But I always knew I could depend on her strength.

  Now it was my turn to be strong for her. I wasn’t sure if I knew how to do it, and once we opened the front door and went into the house, I was even less certain.

  Quinn huddled in a chair at the kitchen table, hugging her legs to her chest. My mother sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug.

  “Quinn . . . sweetie. Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  I watched Quinn’s expression, and although she didn’t fight my mother’s embrace, her face remained blank. Immobile. She didn’t react or respond, and after a few minutes, my mom released her and sat back.

  My dad and I pulled out chairs and sat down, too. For a long stretch, we stayed there, staring at each other, at the floor, at the walls . . . anything but at Quinn, whose eyes never moved from the center of the table.

  “He was bringing us Chinese food. But I could have gone. Or maybe if I had talked to him a little longer. Or not so long. If he hadn’t been in that place right then . . . he’d be okay.” She lifted her gaze to my face. “Maybe it’s not even him, you know? The police said we had to identify him. Mom could get there, and maybe he’ll just be sitting there, talking about the accident and how he needs to get home. But they got mixed up and thought it was him. That happens, right? It could.”

  My mother pressed her lips together. “Quinn, honey, I wish I could tell you that might happen, but it sounds like . . . the police don’t notify the family if they’re not sure.”

  “If they’re so sure, then why did they make Mom go and look?” She shook her head, and I recognized the stubborn look in her eye. It was the same expression she wore when she was trying to talk me into doing something I didn’t want to do. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Dad’s a careful driver. You know that, Mark. Right? How could he get into an accident?”

  “He probably didn’t do anything, Quinn. Sometimes things happen, and we can’t figure out why. I know it’s hard.”

  “It’s stupid. And I’m not going to believe it until—until my mom gets back here.” She crossed her arms over her chest and retreated back into herself. For the next forty-five minutes, silence reigned in the kitchen, only broken when the front door opened again, and Carrie returned with Lisa and Joe.

  Their eyes were red, and I could tell that Lisa, in particular, was shaking. But Carrie looked eerily like her daughter. She walked into the living room, that room that they almost never used, and sat down on the sofa, pulling a pillow over her stomach and holding it tight. Lisa came into the kitchen and began making coffee. I noticed she kept looking at her phone, and it occurred to me that no one had mentioned Leo. I wondered if he was out partying with his football buddies.

  Quinn rose abruptly, her chair scraping on the tiled kitchen floor. She stalked into the front hallway and stood in the arched opening to the living room, hands on her hips.

  “Well?” Her voice was rough. “Was it him? Or did they make a mistake?”

  Carrie lifted her eyes. “Yes. It was him.”

  For a few tense beats, none of us moved. And then Quinn dropped her arms to dangle at her sides. She moved into the living room and sat down in one of the overstuffed wing chairs.

  Over the course of that horrible, endless night, my mother and Lisa took turns making coffee, pouring it and passing it around. Joe offered to go get food, but Carrie flipped out, absolutely refusing to let him go, and of course, we all understood why. The last time a man had left her house to bring back dinner, he’d ended up in the morgue.

  Just before midnight, a couple of people from the Russells’ church came to the house carrying bags of rolls, platters of lunch meat and a few random casseroles and cakes. They didn’t say much, but they set out the food and made us all eat. All of us, that was, except for Quinn, who stubbornly refused to even try a bite.

  Carrie, exhausted from bouts of crying, nodded off some time in the early hours of the morning, her head resting on my mother’s shoulder. Lisa curled up in the opposite corner of the sofa and dozed, and Joe stretched out on the carpeted floor. After a few minutes, he began to snore softly. My dad slept in his chair.

  But Quinn didn’t close her eyes. She shifted now and again, but she didn’t speak, and she didn’t cry. When I tried to talk to her, she frowned at me as though I were speaking in a foreign language and didn’t answer me.

  By the time the sun rose, I could barely keep my dry eyes open. Every time I blinked, it felt like sandpaper scraping over my eyeballs. My mother, who’d been putting away a few things in the kitchen, touched my shoulder.

  “Nate. You need to go home and get some sleep. Dad’ll drive you. He should sleep some, too, in his own bed instead of that chair.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to leave Quinn.” I knew it was idiotic. I wasn’t doing her any good, but the idea of not being with her made me panic.

  “I think maybe if you go get some sleep, she might, too. Just a few hours, honey. C’mon. I can’t have you getting sick. I can’t deal with it.”

  That was what finally got to me. I nodded reluctantly and stood up. Quinn glanced at me without even a flicker of interest in her eyes.

  “I’m just going home for a little bit. I’m going to get some sleep, and you should, too.”

  “Nate’s right, Quinn. Why don’t you go lie down, sweetie?” Lisa rubbed Quinn’s back. “I’ll get you tucked in. Come on.”


  As I left the house, the last thing I saw was Quinn dragging her feet as Lisa led her up the stairs. I hoped she could sleep.

  At home, I was afraid I was too keyed up to drop off, but my body must’ve had other thoughts, since I was sound asleep the minute my head hit the pillow. I only woke up when hunger gripped me.

  I checked my phone now, surprised to see it was early afternoon. No wonder I was starving; I hadn’t eaten much of the food at Quinn’s house the night before, so it had been nearly twenty-four hours since my last meal. I got up slowly, stretching my legs the way I always had to before I could trust my weight to them. Moving fast, leaping out of bed the way other kids did—that had never been an option for me. Instead, I did some deep-breathing, trying to be patient with my sub-standard body while my mind raced ahead.

  I knew Lisa had been trying to find Leo last night. She’d muttered something to Joe about him not answering his phone, and her expression had been a mix of worry and mad. I wondered if she’d reached him, and then I wondered if he’d come home. I couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t.

  The last year had been tough on all of us, but I’d been surprised at how much guilt and regret I’d suffered. Seeing Quinn in pain was hard. Knowing I’d had a part in making her hurt was excruciating. I’d managed to survive by telling myself that it had been for her own good, that I’d been thinking of her future.

  It didn’t help much.

  Since the day that Leo had broken up with her, Quinn had never looked at him. It was as if he had simply ceased to exist. I never caught her eyes sliding his way, never found her gaze lingering on his departing back. But Leo was a different story. When Quinn didn’t realize it, he watched her almost hungrily. During assemblies, when we were all together in the gym, he always took advantage of the crowd to keep his eyes glued on her. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind that he missed her.

  And on graduation—God, had that been only the day before yesterday? I’d known that Leo was dangerously close to breaking. When Carrie and my mom had insisted on taking pictures, he hadn’t hesitated to pull Quinn tight against his side, and I hadn’t missed the way he’d murmured to her. I was sure Quinn had heard it, too. Doom struck me deep in the stomach, the sense that Leo wasn’t going to be able to stay away from Quinn much longer. He was going to crack, and if Quinn took him back—well, that meant I’d return to being just Nate, the other friend.