Running With the Wind

by Nell Stark

  Quinn nodded, walking the pen across her knuckles as she spoke. When she realized what she was doing, she handed it back to Corrie. “Sorry, this is yours.” And then she remembered her entire reason for seeking Corrie out in the first place, and dug a pair of worn sailing gloves out of her left pocket. “As are these. Thanks again for loaning them to me.”

  Corrie frowned at the gloves. “Why don’t you just hang on to them for the rest of the season?” Her voice was monotone. “I have several pairs.”

  Quinn nodded and stuck the gloves back into her pocket. “Okay. Thanks.” It sounded very much as though Corrie wanted to be left alone, but as she started to get up, Corrie gestured toward the pen now lying grounded on her desk.

  “Can’t believe I almost hit you with this,” she said. “I’m really sorry.” She sighed and began to rub her temples again. “I just...I’m having a hard time letting it go.” She returned her gaze to Quinn and shook her head ruefully. “And then when he comes waltzing in here and shoves his fucking form under my nose...” She swallowed hard, her face vacant. “Have you ever honestly seen red? It was like that—just this flash of red—so goddamn angry!”

  Quinn finally dared to take her hand, then she squeezed once, and after a moment, Corrie squeezed back. Quinn knew she should let go, but simply couldn’t. Her fingers slid perfectly between Corrie’s, her palm resting against warm skin. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  Corrie laughed harshly, her grip unconsciously tightening. “It’s so silly. So fucking trite. It shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t care anymore.”

  Quinn ducked her head down to try to meet Corrie’s bleak gaze. “Tell me,” she said gently.

  Corrie looked away, gazing out her window toward the beach and the ocean. A group of students, or perhaps instructors, were playing an impromptu game of ultimate Frisbee. It was a beautiful day outside, and the breeze was light and steady, but all she could feel was the rapid, painful thumping of her heart against her ribcage.

  “Two years ago, I was just out of college,” she began finally, her voice so quiet that Quinn had to lean forward to hear. “Will and I were both training hard. We’d had our sights on the Olympics for years, and we were both doing well. It was an exhilarating time, doubly so for me because I had a major crush on my crew. Denise.” She smiled wanly. “We worked so damn well together. And she was into me, too. It didn’t take that long for us to get together.”

  She looked over the desk at Quinn, who nodded in encouragement. “So anyway, we had about two months together, and they were unbelievable. Best time of my life; I was happy and we were kicking ass and—”

  “You fell in love with her,” Quinn finished, her voice soft. She let her thumb rub tiny circles on Corrie’s skin. For comfort.

  “Yeah, I guess I did.” Corrie’s normally clear green eyes were half-black as they fleetingly met Quinn’s glance. They looked like week-old bruises.

  “And what happened then?” Quinn prompted, before Corrie could turn her stare back toward the beach.

  “It was the first relationship I’d ever had that I couldn’t see the end of,” she said after a slight pause. “It was intoxicating. And I...I thought she felt the same way.” She shook her head fiercely. “Long story short, she ditched me for my brother. Less than a week later, she and Will were fucking each other. I refused to sail with her, so she found another skipper; I didn’t make the trials and she did. Along with Will, of course.” Her eyes met Quinn’s again, and they were far too bright. “Exactly out of a soap opera, see? Completely trite, completely predictable. And pathetic.”

  Quinn exhaled slowly, keeping her hand firmly on top of Corrie’s as her brain struggled to process everything she’d just heard. Her distance, and how she only sleeps with her friends casually, and how she’s always in control. Quinn was no student of psychology, but it was obvious that Corrie still acutely felt Denise’s rejection, not to mention Will’s callousness. And soon they’ll both be here at once. Invading Corrie’s turf. Her safe place. No wonder she’s so upset. A sudden blaze of white-hot anger rushed under her skin, prickling like static electricity in the wintertime. Startled, she took a few deep breaths and waited for it to subside. This is not about me. It’s about her.

  “I’m sorry that she hurt you,” Quinn finally said. The words came slowly, as though pulled from far away. “I wish she weren’t coming here, so you wouldn’t be reminded of what happened, any more than you already are. And,” she said, her voice suddenly growing stronger, “I don’t think you’re right to say that you’re silly, or that this is trite. It happened, and it was real, and you felt everything, and...” She flushed, knowing that she was babbling. “And I have no idea of what I’m trying to say, but whatever it is, I mean it.”

  Corrie really smiled for the first time since Quinn had poked her head around the door of her office. “Thanks,” she said quietly. She closed her eyes for several seconds, enjoying the feeling of Quinn’s warm hand covering her own. Nice. “You know, I’ve never...well, I’ve never told anyone before. Hell, nobody even knew we were dating. Denise wasn’t ready to come out to her family.” Her lips twisted into a frown. “Guess it’s just as well that she didn’t.”

  Quinn’s eyebrows arched involuntarily. “You never even told Jen?”

  “Not even her.” Corrie shrugged and looked away again. Suddenly, she felt more than a little panicked. What if Quinn says something? What if they all find out what a fool I am? Why the fuck did I just blab it all in the first pla—

  Quinn squeezed Corrie’s hand hard. “I won’t tell a soul.” She mimicked zipping and buttoning her lips with her other hand. “I promise you.”

  Corrie was surprised when the panicky sensation in her gut subsided as quickly as it had come. The steady, comforting pressure of Quinn’s palm and the compassion in her words were conspiring to make Corrie actually believe her, which was nothing short of a miracle.

  “All I hope,” said Quinn, “is that you whup them good in this year’s regatta!”

  When Corrie laughed, Quinn grinned back at her and suddenly realized that they’d been holding hands for several minutes. Before her stomach had a chance to get all fluttery, she uncurled her fingers from around Corrie’s and got to her feet. “Come outside for a while,” she said. “It’s a beautiful afternoon, and all these forms aren’t going anywhere.” With a slight quirk of her lips, she waited a beat before adding, “Unless you throw any more of them out the door, that is.”

  “Ve-ry funny.” Corrie stood up, pushed her chair back, and followed Quinn obediently down the twisting corridors. The anger still smoldered deep in her gut like a live coal, but she felt much more clearheaded, and the aching pressure between her breasts had subsided into a low murmur. Thanks to Quinn, she realized. God, why is she being so nice to me, when I’ve been such an ass? Corrie glanced surreptitiously at the woman who walked a few steps in front of her. She’s seen the worst of me, up close and personal, and doesn’t even seem fazed. How’s that possible?

  There was still no doubt in Corrie’s mind that Quinn had a thing for her, but only now could she see that she’d been responding to Quinn’s attraction in the wrong way. Drew was right for once. She wants something...meaningful. Something real. Could I ever give that to her?

  The answer, of course, was an emphatic no—the mere thought of trusting someone again made her stomach try to flip inside out. But an idea slowly began to take shape, unfolding and expanding like a sail under wind. Just because she was incapable of maintaining a relationship didn’t mean she couldn’t pretend. She’d wipe the smirk off Will’s face. She’d fool them both, dammit. I know all the steps. I can go through the motions and they’ll never be the wiser. Quinn would be perfect for the job. And she’d get what she wanted, too. For a while, anyway.

  “You’ve been really good to me today,” Corrie said as they turned toward the front door. “I know this is kind of sudden and maybe you have other plans, but can I treat you to dinner this Friday?”


  Quinn blinked up at her, clearly surprised. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

  “I know, but I want to.” When Quinn continued to look dubious, Corrie touched her arm gently. “No strings, Quinn. I just like hanging out with you.” She stroked up toward Quinn’s elbow, then pulled her hand away as though she hadn’t meant to. She even managed a slightly bashful grin. “What do you say?”

  Quinn’s answering smile was shy but happy. “All right. That sounds fun.”

  “Great.” Struggling to hide her triumph, Corrie held the door for Quinn, and a moment later, they were both inundated by the sights and sounds of the Frisbee game a few yards away.

  Corrie watched as Jen snagged the disc out of midair, intercepting a pass meant for Megs, and quickly sent it spinning in Drew’s direction. But Brad also saw the throw from his position just beyond Drew, and quickly sprinted forward to try to regain the Frisbee for his own team.

  Their collision was worthy of the NFL. Brad slammed into Drew from behind, a split second after Drew jumped to make the catch, and both men went down hard, kicking up a small cloud of sand as they fell.

  “Ouch!” said Quinn. “Jeez, I hope they’re both okay.”

  Brad got to his feet slowly, but when Drew stayed on the ground, several of the other players converged on the scene. “Shit, Harris,” Corrie muttered. “What the hell did you do now?” She and Quinn joined the growing circle just as Jen asked Drew what was the matter.

  “Ankle,” he said through gritted teeth. “Twisted it or something.” He sat up, breathing heavily, and his face beneath the tan was pale. “Doesn’t feel so good.”

  “You don’t look so good,” she said, clearly concerned.

  Corrie watched as Jen soothingly ran one hand up and down Drew’s back while supporting him with the other. Her movements were tender, and Corrie’s eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. Does Jen like him? Can’t be, they’re just friends—picking at each other, joking around all the time.

  “I can drive his truck to the hospital,” Quinn said, interrupting Corrie’s thoughts. “We can put him in the cab, and whoever wants to follow along can meet us there.”

  “Oh, man,” Brad began, one hand on Drew’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Hang on, hang on,” said Drew. “The hospital? Can’t I just go home and ice it?”

  Quinn frowned at him. “Let’s see if it’ll bear weight.”

  Once Brad and Jen had helped him to his feet, Drew gingerly set his foot down and immediately hissed in pain. He swayed slightly, and Corrie surged forward to help steady him. This is bad. Our boat. There’s no way we’re racing now. The vision she’d had of crossing the finish line while Will and Denise were still rounding the final buoy melted away. Dammit! This was not turning out to be a good day.

  “It’s at least a bad sprain, and it could be broken,” said Quinn. “Regardless, you need x-rays.”

  “Fine, Doc. Fine. Let’s just get it over with.”

  “I’ll follow you to the hospital in my car,” Jen told Quinn.

  “Can I come with?” asked Corrie. Jen nodded, her attention still focused on Drew.

  “Hang on, hang on.” Drew grimaced. “Does the whole world really have to come along?”

  “Shut up, gimp,” Jen said fondly, “and let us take care of you.”

  Drew sighed in resignation, but one corner of his mouth quirked upward ever so slightly. “All right, Jenny. You win.” He tightened his grip on Jen and Brad in preparation for the long hop to the parking lot. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  *

  A little over two hours later, Drew came limping into the waiting room on crutches, his left leg enclosed in an air cast up to the knee. He worked his way over to where Quinn and Corrie were sitting and settled glumly into the chair next to Quinn, before looking around in confusion.

  “Where are Jen and Brad?”

  “They went to grab some sodas from the caf,” said Corrie. “What’s the verdict?”

  Drew exhaled and rubbed his eyes. “Grade II sprain. The ligament’s partially torn. I’m on crutches for at least two days, in the cast for at least three weeks, and I’ll have PT to do after that.” He looked over at Corrie, dejection written plainly on his face. “There’s no way I can skipper for you, Mars.”

  Corrie reached across Quinn to squeeze his shoulder. “Yeah, you’re not wrong about that.”

  Drew leaned back in the bucket seat and let his head rest against the wall. “You’re going to have to pull somebody in for me. Or skipper yourself and grab someone for crew.”

  Corrie shook her head and moved back into her own chair. “The gang’s all paired up by now,” she said. “You know that. It’s okay. In fact, it’s probably for the best.” Managing the regatta was more important anyway. This was probably a blessing in disguise. Yeah. Right.

  “God, Cor,” said Drew, as though he hadn’t heard her. “I’m really, really sorry. I shouldn’t have been playing that stupid game, and I just—”

  “It’s all right, you big klutz. Quit feeling guilty, will you? Accidents happen.”

  There was a long, glum pause during which Drew fiddled with his crutches, Quinn patted him on the knee, and Corrie stared at the ceiling. Would’ve been sweet to go up against them, though, she couldn’t help but think. I really wonder if we could’ve beaten them.

  “Hey,” Drew said slowly. He sat up straighter and looked across Quinn to Corrie, his face serious. “Why does it have to be another instructor? There’s still a whole month before the race, why not just train someone else?”

  Quinn watched as they looked at each other intently for several seconds, before turning in unison to focus on her. Abruptly nervous, her eyes flicked rapidly from one to the other. “Wh—what is this looking at me thing that’s happening now?”

  “You could do this, Quinn,” Drew said excitedly. “You’ve been sailing a lot, and you already know the 470 pretty well. How much do you weigh?”

  Quinn stiffened and glared, but Drew just continued to wait expectantly for an answer. “One-forty,” she said finally, her voice nearly inaudible.

  Drew nodded eagerly at Corrie. “See? That’s not that much less than me. The boat won’t feel drastically different.”

  “Yeah, great,” Quinn said under her breath.

  “It could work, Cor. You know it could.”

  “It could, yeah,” said Corrie, “and besides, she has way more tact than you. You’re such an ass, Drew.” But her exasperation was rapidly giving way to hope. Perfect, this will be perfect. Me and my girlfriend versus Will and his. A fitting match.

  “Huh?” Drew frowned in confusion. “What? Oh.” He had the decency to look sheepish. “Did I mention I’m injured?”

  Quinn rolled her eyes at him and smiled reassuringly at Corrie, who leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “So, what do you say, Quinn?”

  Quinn’s jaw dropped in surprise. “Wait—are you serious? I…I don’t know anything! I just barely started!”

  “Learning to race isn’t hard,” said Drew. “Besides, all you have to do is take orders from Corrie. She’ll be the one in charge.”

  Quinn blinked and swallowed reflexively as her body reacted. She could feel herself start to blush as all the memories came flooding back. Hands on my skin, lips on my neck, whispers in the dark I shouldn’t have heard.

  “Like Drew said, you already know the boat,” Corrie said, thankfully oblivious to Quinn’s jarring trip down memory lane. “And we’ll have plenty of time to train.”

  Quinn rubbed her eyes and tried to focus. What about the time commitment? And heavy competition isn’t exactly your cup of tea. At that thought, she looked up sharply to meet Corrie’s gaze.

  “But what about Wi—” Flustered, she quickly broke off the sentence. You just managed to convince her to trust you. Don’t blow it! “Well,” she said, trying to cover her slip, “I’d never want to blow the race for you. I know how important it is.”

  Corrie frowned and shook her head ag
ain. “Never mind that,” she said firmly. “It’s just a big, fun regatta, Quinn, and I’d rather have you than anyone else.”

  Silence greeted this declaration, and Quinn found herself blinking in surprise yet again. “Even me?” said Drew, pretending to be miffed.

  “Now that you’re out of the picture.” Corrie turned back to Quinn and raised her eyebrows in question.

  “Well...okay.”

  “Okay? Really? You’ll do it?”

  “I’ll do it. But you’ll probably be sorry.”

  Corrie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re the best, Q,” said Drew.

  At that moment, Jen and Brad appeared at the door with several cans of soda cradled in their arms. When Jen saw Drew, her face lit up and she hurried over to them. “Back already? What’s the deal? How’d it go? How are you feeling?”

  Drew laughed. “Ease up, Jenny. Jeez, I’d almost think you cared or something.”

  Jen scoffed. “You wish. I just want to know how long I’ll be able to mock you.”

  “Probably a few months,” Drew said morosely.

  “All right,” said Quinn. “Let’s get you home. You need to be elevating and icing that ankle, you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  As Drew grumbled and propped himself upright, Corrie lightly touched Quinn’s shoulder. “When do you want to get started? Tomorrow evening, maybe? Or is that too soon?”

  “Tomorrow’s fine with me. I’ll come to your office around five.” When Corrie nodded, Quinn cracked a grin. “How about keeping your pens on the desk this time, though, okay?”

  “You’re very demanding.” Corrie said, smiling back. She let her fingertips glide over Quinn’s shoulder before pulling away. “But I’ll do my best.”

  *

  Corrie stood at the water’s edge, a half-empty beer bottle in hand. The sun had just fallen below her house, but, out past its shadow, the water flickered and glowed as though it were on fire. Frog rooted around happily near the first pylons of her as yet unfinished pier, and Corrie was glad to see that he no longer limped when he moved.