Hanging by a Moment (Keeping Score #2)

by Tawdra Kandle

  “I know, babe. But it’s going to die down. Like you said, attention spans are short. Pretty soon, someone will do something stupid, and everyone will forget about both of us.” He leaned over me and kissed my forehead. “Love you, Mia. I’ll see you this afternoon.” Pausing just before the doorway, he glanced back at me over his shoulder. “Oh, and I’ll do some laundry when I get home. You . . . go out today. Somewhere. Anywhere. Get a mani-pedi or whatever it is girls like to do.”

  I shook my head. “It’s no fun without girlfriends. I’ll tell you what. I’ll stay home today, clean the house, do the laundry, and then when you come home, we’ll go out to eat. Okay?”

  Leo sighed. “Fine. Whatever you want to do.”

  “So aren’t you going stir-crazy?” Zelda sounded curious and mildly amused as I updated her on the latest Lioness craziness.

  “Surprisingly, no. I don’t mind being here, as long as I have something to do.” Holding the phone between my shoulder and ear, I pulled a pile of wet laundry from the washer and dropped it into the dryer. “I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a housewife, but I really don’t have anything to complain about. I can write whenever I want, and three of my articles have been picked up so far. No classes, no homework, and tons of privacy.”

  “And quality time with Leo the Lion? That’s got to be an added benefit.”

  “Of course.” I answered quickly, and I knew Zelda probably picked that up.

  “So everything’s fine and dandy with you two? Sunshine, rainbows and sparkles?” She was teasing, but I knew enough of Zelda now to realize that her snark hid real concern. She just didn’t want anyone to realize that she actually had feelings.

  “Mostly.” I hesitated. “I love Leo, Zelda. You know that. He loves me. We’re meant to be together. This is just a . . . bumpy time. Everyone goes through them.” I cleared my throat. “Speaking of which . . . how is everything going with our favorite dysfunctional couple?”

  “Oh, God.” This time, Zelda’s exasperation was genuine. “They’re driving me crazy, Quinn. I swear, I’ll never forgive you for abandoning me to her this summer.”

  “Hey, hey. I didn’t abandon you. You and Gia are adults, and you both made the decision to stay on campus together. How’re your classes going?”

  “Mine are great. As for Gia’s . . . I couldn’t swear to it, but I’d say probably not so wonderful.”

  “I was afraid of that. Things are still rough with Matt?”

  “They’re driving me fucking insane, if that’s what you mean. If they’re not having loud and obnoxious sex, they’re having loud and obnoxious fights. I’m not sure which are more annoying.” She paused, and I heard a rattle on the other side of the phone.

  “What’re you doing?” I closed the dryer and started it up, stepping away from it so I could hear Zelda.

  “Uh, I’m cooking.” Her voice held a faint tinge of . . . I couldn’t read it. Embarrassment?

  “Cooking? For you and Gia? Well, aren’t you a good roommate?” I flopped onto the sofa. “You never cooked for me.”

  “No, doll, I’m not cooking for Gia. I have a . . . date. I guess. Sort of.”

  If she had told me that she was a spy who was cooking for the head of the CIA, I wouldn’t have been more surprised. Zelda was predictable only in her cynicism about romance and relationships. She had regular sex with an abundance of men, and she liked men, but she didn’t trust them.

  “Uh . . . okay. Can I ask the name of this date?”

  “You can ask, but I’m not going to tell. This is way outside my comfort zone, Quinn. It’s probably not going to amount to anything. If I’m wrong and it does . . . then you and I can talk. I’ll tell you all the down and dirties. But until then—if there is a then—I’m going to play it close to my chest.”

  When I didn’t respond right away, she hurried to continue. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Quinn. I just don’t trust me. I’m going out on a limb here, and I’m actually scared shitless.”

  “Zelda.” I crossed my legs at the knee and kicked one foot in the air. “I’m not insulted that you want to be, um, discreet. It’s your business. But don’t be scared, okay? You are the most incredible woman I know. You’re beautiful, you’re funny and you’re smart. Any guy would be lucky to date you. So don’t mess this up just because you think you’re not the relationship type, okay?”

  Something sizzled on Zelda’s side of the phone. “I appreciate everything you said, Quinn. I don’t necessarily agree with you, but still, I’m grateful. I can only promise to do my best.”

  “Good. Have fun, and don’t think I’m going to forget this. When I get home next month, you are so cooking for me.”

  She laughed. “You got it, doll. We’ll be in our new apartment with a real kitchen, not this lame ass kitchenette. So I’ll make you something special to celebrate moving in, okay?”

  “It’s a date.” I giggled at my own joke. “Have fun tonight, Zelda. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Oh, don’t say that.” She groaned. “The girl who’s been in love with the same dude since they were eight? You’re my boundary? I’m so thoroughly fucked.”

  “That dude just came in the front door.” I waggled my fingers at Leo. “I promised him a night out, so I better get my ass in gear. Or he might trade me in for a Lioness.”

  “Never going to happen, doll. That guy’s got it bad for you and only you.”

  “Yep, and same goes on my end.” I scooched so that my head hung off the front of the sofa while my legs were propped on the back and made a face at my boyfriend. He rolled his eyes at me. “Have fun tonight, Zelda. Love you.”

  “Love you right back. And I’ll try.”

  I disconnected the call and tossed my phone onto the cushion next to me. “Hey, lover. How was your day?”

  “Hot. Long. Mildly irritating.” He braced his hands on either side of my head, caging me in as he kissed my lips. “But getting better now.”

  “Want to take this upstairs and see if it gets even better?” I linked my hands behind his head, holding on.

  “I’d love that, but I promised to take you out tonight. And let’s face it, if we go upstairs and get into bed, we’ll end up ordering food to be delivered and you’ll go another day without leaving the house.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “It is, yes. So I’ll make you a deal.” Pushing himself up, Leo slid one arm beneath my knees and the other under my head, lifting me against his chest. “I’ll carry you upstairs, we’ll get a shower together—no nookie, just showering—and then we’ll go out to eat. And then after dinner, we’ll come home and finish whatever it is we start in the shower. Deal?”

  “Delayed gratification? Hmm. I guess I can get behind that. Okay, babe.” I thumped him on the back. “Onward and upward.”

  “This is the best pasta I’ve had south of Philadelphia.” I laid down my fork and sighed. “And the company’s not bad either.”

  Leo flashed me a smile, but there was something under it, something not quite complete. All night, his laughter hadn’t seemed to reach his eyes, and he’d been preoccupied.

  “All right.” I rested my elbows on the table and leaned my chin in my hands. “Tell me what’s going on. You’ve been giving me lip service all night. Did I not live up to your shower expectations?”

  This time, real heat flared in his eyes. “Hardly. As a matter of fact, you exceeded them. I’m lucky I can sit still here with the boner you gave me.”

  “Hmm. Okay then, what is it? Don’t forget, Leo, I’ve known you forever. You can’t hide this shit from me.”

  He fiddled with his knife where it lay alongside his plate. “I got a call today from a guy who works for Football Sunday.”

  “What’s that?” I frowned.

  “It’s an online sports magazine. I think it still has a monthly print component. Anyway, they want to do an article on me. He called it a spread.”

  My stomach dropped. “Uh huh. And
. . .?”

  “And Coach says he thinks I should do it. So do the PR people at the university. It’ll bring a lot of attention to the college and hopefully some donations to the sports program.”

  “Haven’t you done enough this year to help them out there? I thought we were trying to get things to calm down, right? We don’t need to get everyone all riled up again. God, Leo, it’ll never end if you do this.”

  “The article from before wasn’t sanctioned by the university. They didn’t interview me, they didn’t talk to anyone official, but this time, they will. There’ll be boundaries. The head of public relations from the college will have final approval. That’s part of the deal.”

  I pushed away my plate, since my appetite had evaporated. “Do you seriously want to do this, Leo? Does it sound like a good idea?”

  “I don’t fucking know, Quinn. God, I’m torn all the time. All the damn time. What Coach says, what the school wants, what my team needs, what you want . . . I can’t make everyone happy. It’s fucking frustrating.” He balled up his cloth napkin and threw it onto his plate. “I bring you down here so we can finally be together, and you’re basically a prisoner in the townhouse. But I don’t know what to do.”

  The waiter came over to pick up the paid check, and we lapsed into silence until he’d moved away.

  “And now . . . the PR guy told me to be careful about what I say and do when I’m out in public. Now that people know who I am, I represent the whole fucking college, apparently. No drinking, no partying. Which is fine, but it’s got me second-guessing everything I say or do. That waiter. Is he going to post on social media that I didn’t tip him well enough? I hate it.”

  Leo’s voice had risen, and I glanced around the restaurant. “Let’s go home. I just—I want to get out of here.”

  “Fine.” He pushed back his chair and stood aside, letting me pass first. I kept my head down and hurried out, waiting to feel Leo’s hand on the small of my back the way he always touched me as we walked together. But when I glanced back, his face was stormy and his hands were clenched in fists at his sides.

  We were both silent all the way back to the townhouse. Leo unlocked the front door, and we walked inside. I felt wooden and uncomfortable, and for the first time this summer, the townhouse didn’t feel like home.

  “There’s one more thing, Quinn.” Leo spoke from behind me, as though he couldn’t bear to face me. “I asked the PR people if we could include you in the article. I thought some nice pictures of the two of us together, and maybe something about how we grew up together . . . but apparently Football Sunday doesn’t want to talk about me having a girlfriend. They said it doesn’t fit the image they want to project of me.”

  My throat was tight, and my mouth was dry. I stood in the semi-darkness of our living room, and I didn’t know what to say.

  Finally, I croaked out words. “And you’re all right with all this, Leo? You feel good about this?”

  “Fuck, no, I don’t. Are you crazy? But what am I going to do? Remember I’m at Carolina on a full-ride, Quinn. Football is paying for my education. I have to play by their rules until I graduate.”

  I nodded. “Okay. So . . . what? I hide out while they’re here taking pictures and interviewing you? You want me to just stay upstairs?”

  Leo came closer to me, still standing at my back. “No. I mean, I don’t know . . .” He sighed, and I felt his breath stirring the hair on my neck. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? Figure it out then? I’m fried, and I’m mad and I’m just done tonight. I want to go to bed.”

  “Sure.” I swallowed. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

  Upstairs, we undressed in silence. I went into the bathroom to wash my face, and when I came out to climb into bed, Leo took my place. I slid beneath the sheets and lay on my side, my eyes closed, listening to the sounds of him brushing his teeth. I’d gotten used to it over these weeks, the subtle nuances of living with someone. We’d slept together for over a year now, and we’d spent a few days at a time with each other, but there was something different about actually living under the same roof. I knew his rhythms, his bedtime habits and then how he woke up in the mornings. They had become familiar to me, and I loved that.

  After a few minutes, Leo came back into the bedroom. He switched off the overhead light and felt his way through the dark to the bed. I felt the sheets shift as he got under them, adjusted his pillow and sighed into the darkness. I didn’t know I was going to say anything until my voice pierced the quiet.

  “The first time we slept together . . . really slept together, in the same bed, not just for sex . . . it wasn’t at the hotel, because we didn’t sleep much that night. But when I stayed over at your house the first time, when your parents were away, I was terrified. I was scared I was going to talk in my sleep, or drool, or snore—something embarrassing. I was so nervous, I thought I’d never actually nod off, but I did. And when I woke up, you had your arms around me, and I realized I’d never slept so soundly in my life.”

  I drew in a ragged breath, and to my shock, sobs wracked my body. Tears I hadn’t known were imminent slid down my cheeks and soaked the pillow. All the tension from this summer, this uncomfortable distance between Leo and me and every bit of uncertainty poured out. As always happened now, whenever something set me off, grief over missing my dad struck, too, making everything somehow worse.

  Next to me, Leo made a noise deep in his throat and gathered me close, pulling my back against his chest, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my neck.

  “It’s okay, Mia.” He murmured soft words into my ear. “It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be all right. I promise.”

  But we both knew he was making promises neither of us could trust.

  The next morning, I woke up with gritty, swollen eyes, a pounding head and a sense of doom I couldn’t shake.

  Leo was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, his clean T-shirt in his hands. He stared down at it, turning the gray cotton over in his hands.

  I pushed my back against the pillow, sitting up and wrapping my arms around my knees. “What time is it?”

  “Just after seven.” He stretched the shirt wide, the way he always did right before he pulled it over his head. I watched the interplay of muscles on his back, tempted to trace the ridges and ropes.

  “Leo.” I took a deep breath. “I think . . . I think we need to take a break. I’m going to head back up to New Jersey. I should spend some time with my mom anyway, before classes start again.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Leo turned around, his eyebrows drawn together. “Quinn, what are you saying?”

  “Everything is so screwed up.” I flexed my feet, intent on the movement of the sheet over them. “What they want from you at the school, and what you’re being pushed to do . . . me being here complicates all that. I don’t want to make all of it harder on you. So I’ll just go home, and then, we can see.”

  “We can see? We can see what, exactly?” He sounded angry, but I heard the fear and pain underneath.

  “Leo, it’s all timing. Right now, the team and the school are asking so much of you. What you said last night is true. You need this education, and that comes with a price tag. If you have to play by their rules, then that’s what you’re going to do. And if they don’t want you to have a girlfriend, we already know what’s going to end up happening.”

  “They didn’t say I couldn’t have a girlfriend. They just said the magazine doesn’t want to play up that angle.”

  I shook my head. “You’re quibbling, Leo. They want to do a story on Leo Taylor, the hot and sexy single football player, the one all the girls want to dream could be theirs. I don’t fit into that scenario. And the last thing I want to do is skulk around, hiding our relationship. You know me, Leo. I couldn’t live that way.”

  “You’re making this more than it is, Quinn. It’s one story. They’ll come over here one day, or maybe they won’t even come over. Maybe I’ll meet them at the colleg
e, and then it’s done. We’ve got three more weeks together before I have to move back on campus when practices begin, and once that happens, you’ll be at Birch. We’re separated most of the time anyway. And then how hard is it to just lay low for another two years, until I can graduate? After that, we make our own rules, babe. We write our own ticket.”

  “You’re fooling yourself if you think that’s true. There’s always going to be someone telling you what they want you to be. You don’t think whatever team you sign with will have a take on this?”

  “It won’t matter then.” He was stubborn. I could see it in the set of his mouth. But I knew that deep down, he already realized that I was right. He was fighting both me and himself, trying to make something true into a lie.

  “Leo, I can’t take this anymore. I just can’t. I love you. I know you love me. That’s not even in question. But what people have said about me, what they’re still saying about me—it’s horrible. After this article comes out, it’s only going to get worse. I can’t deal with it.”

  He dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t control that. People are fucking idiots, Quinn. They’re going to say whatever they want. So just don’t look at the social media shit. Ignore it, and they’ll stop paying attention after a while.”

  “Maybe, or maybe not.” I reached for his hands and clutched them in my own. They were icy cold. “I’m not suggesting that we . . . that things go back to what they were before. I can’t lose you as my friend. Not again. Let’s just look at this as a little breathing room, okay? If things cool down, like you think they will, maybe . . . we can try again. But right now, I want to go home. I want to be with my mom. I need some space to think it all over.”

  “Quinn, I don’t want anybody else. You know that. It’s you, Quinn. It’s always been you, and it’s always going to be you, forever. Don’t destroy us over this.”

  “Just a break.” I repeated the words. “Just a break.”

  Leo pulled me against him, and once again, his face was burrowed in my hair. “I don’t want you to leave.”