Grounding Quinn

by Stephanie Campbell

  Mark slides the strap of my tank top off of my shoulder, exposing the skin completely. The heat of his mouth moves down my neck and across my collar bone.

  “How many people have you been with?” he asks.

  It’s totally not his business, but he staring up at me with amused eyes that tell me he doesn’t actually expect me to answer him— so of course, I have to.

  “Three,” I whimper. Not a sad, uncomfortable whimper, a whimper that says if you don’t stop, this is going to go too far. Like it hasn’t already. He is experienced enough to distinguish the two, and I’m pretty sure, he’s counting on it.

  “Three?” He sounds surprised. Is it because he thinks three is a high number, or a low one? His eyebrows pinch together, questioningly. “How old are you?”

  High, that tone definitely says high.

  “Eighteen, why?”

  The words barely escape my lips before his land on mine. Nice, waiting to get confirmation that I’m legal. Except that it is nice. His tongue thrusts deep into my mouth. There is nothing sweet about the way Mark kisses me. I’m momentarily stunned by the forcefulness behind it, before giving in to the pleasure it brings. His kisses are like nothing I have experienced before. They are, well, experienced. Hungry. Animalistic. I haven’t had a sip of alcohol, but the room is spinning just the same.

  “I think I could teach you things.” He breaks away and murmurs in my ear.

  “I doubt that,” I counter.

  He chuckles deeply. “Is that a challenge?”

  I don’t respond. Look, I know I’m in a situation here that I shouldn’t be in. I know that I look like a total teenage slut. Right now, I’m no better than Mena-I’m-screwing-your-dad-Lombardo. I get it, trust me. Why can’t I have morals like the other girls? Why can’t I be good? Normal? Faithful? Can I play the victim card here? He’s older, I feel pressured? No. And I’ll tell you why. The truth is, I want it. I hate myself for it, but I want it, I want him. And he knows it.

  His hands expertly float over my hips, and then move on to exploring the rest of my body. I’d be lying if I said his touch made me cringe or repulsed me, because right now, it feels amazingly euphoric to be wanted like this.

  Somehow, we end up on his couch. My skirt has found its way to the floor, and I’m sitting on his lap facing him. His lips form a satisfied grin that tells me he’s thoroughly enjoying himself as we move together. Is it possible to have an out of body experience when you aren’t dying? Because I totally think I am.

  The wall that I’m facing is covered in 10x10 mirrors, clustered together to form one huge wall of glass, and I’m forced to stare at myself on top of him. I’m sure there is some metaphor there that is lost on me. I recognize the mirrors, IKEA’s Malma Mirrors, Page 272, $2.99. I, who hate math more than I hate Courtney Love, am trying to count each square, and mentally calculate how much it cost him to put them all up.

  I’m trying to look interested, really I am. But the reality of this screwed up situation finally hits me. I don’t know how the hell I ended up here. I don’t know how I ended up here, doing this. It’s not that the sex is bad; I wish I could say that it is. But it’s wrong. Really, really wrong. I keep willing myself to get up and leave, but in my mind, I know I have let it go this far, and I might as well let him finish before I bolt.

  “You’re so damn sexy,” he says. His mouth is burning my skin; still I can’t help but roll my eyes.

  I get it. I’m not one of those girls who likes to pretend I’m not pretty. I know I am, and I don’t mean that in a conceited way. But right now, I really wish I was something else. Something that matters– like sane.

  Mark surprises me by suddenly standing up. My legs are still hitched tightly around his perfect v of a waist.

  “What are you doing?” I ask

  “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he says. His lips press into my collarbone while he speaks, and the scruff of his cheeks chafes my skin. In one quick movement, I climb off of Mark, and grab my skirt off of the floor. His eyes narrow as he tilts his head to the side.

  “I really need to go,” I say. “My parents, I, um, they’re going to wonder where I am.” I feel like such a freaking idiot bringing up my parents while I have this guy-this man-sitting here with no pants on. But I really have to get out of here.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ben

  Quinn’s text comes through after I’ve finally fallen asleep. I usually sleep with my phone on silent, but I couldn’t stand the thought of missing her call. She was right to be upset about Caroline. If the situation were reversed, I would be furious too. I’m just going to have to lay it out for my mom. All I want right now it to give Quinn the security she needs, and to not have her think of me as a coward. Maybe I am a coward. I strain to think of the last time I stood up to someone over something that I felt this strongly about. The thing is I’ve never felt passionate about anything the way I feel about Quinn. It’s never been worth it to me to get upset– until now. Now, I’ve actually got something I don’t want to lose.

  I shoot straight up in bed when I hear the ring tone. Quinn had set it to one of her favorite songs. I dug the bass line, although I had never really listened to the lyrics.

  I’m so sorry. You were right, not a big deal.

  See you tomorrow.

  xo, Q-

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Quinn

  I can’t believe I did it. I cannot believe I slept with Mark. Shit. When I first started seeing Ben, I knew I’d do something to screw it up-I just didn’t see this ginormous of a fuck up coming.

  The second I walk through the front door, I text Ben and then take the longest shower of my life. I push the hot water heater to its limits, unable to scald the feeling of Mark’s hands away. My neck and chest are rubbed raw from the stubble of his cheeks. I wish I could stop replaying it. The memory of Mark’s tongue on me forces acid up into my throat, toying with my gag reflex. I choke it back down. He didn’t even get the condom off before I was out the door.

  What the hell have I done? How the hell am I going to face Ben?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ben

  Quinn looks upset. She has looked that way all day long but she won’t talk about it. I keep telling myself that it’s probably just another fight with her parents, something she never wants to talk about, especially not at school. Still, my gut tells me it’s because of what happened yesterday. I shouldn’t have told her about Caroline. I should have told my mom that there was just no way it’d be cool for her to stay with us.

  Quinn is completely engrossed in stacking a pack of Starbursts into a tower, and then knocking it over. Over and over again. But still, she refuses to look at me. She carefully unwraps a pink Starburst, pops the candy in to her mouth, and then refolds the wrapper into the perfect square it had just been in.

  “Want one?” she asks me. The silence is finally broken, and that’s all I get?

  “No thanks. Do you want me to get you something real to eat?” She shakes her head.

  Sydney and Grant are exchanging uncomfortable glances as they walk toward our table. I like both of them, but I really wish they’d stay away today. I need to talk to Quinn and smooth things over.

  “Are we interrupting something?” Sydney asks politely. She hesitates before sitting down in the chair Grant has pulled out for her.

  “Nope, not at all,” Quinn says. Her voice changes, suddenly she has perked up. Ah, back to the cheerful pretense. She slides all of the red Starbursts across the table.

  Sydney smiles. “Thanks.”

  “So, what are you two up to this weekend?” Quinn asks Grant and Sydney.

  “Um, I don’t think we have any plans.” Sydney glances at Grant for confirmation.

  “My parents are having a retirement party for one of Dad’s partners at the house on Sunday. You guys should come by. Save me from all the old folk,” Quinn says, smiling.

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” Grant says. />
  Quinn finally looks at me and smiles. She puts her hand on my knee. I feel like I can breathe again.

  “Can we go talk?” I lean in and ask quietly. She nods.

  “Don’t forget your bathing suits!” Quinn says enthusiastically as we get up from the table. Grant and Sydney both smile and nod, but they’d be fools if they couldn’t tell that something was up.

  “What’s the matter?” she asks innocently.

  “Can we go to my car?”

  Quinn giggles. It’s a little too high-pitched to be genuine, a little too showy, even for her. “Oh, sounds super serious!”

  I hesitate at the car door and stare at her momentarily, trying to figure her out. Was it not perfectly clear that she was upset with me a minute ago? I open the passenger door for her and she slides in. As soon as I get in, I start the car, and turn the air conditioner to the Antarctic setting. I’m not sure I will ever get used to the relentless heat and humidity of Atlanta. I can feel my shirt already stuck to my back and the black leather seat.

  “So, what’s up?” Quinn asks.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  “Because…?” Her eyes dart around, and she bites her bottom lip. She knows exactly why.

  I exhale loudly. I don’t mean to sound annoyed, but I don’t understand why she has to make communicating so damn difficult.

  “Because you haven’t spoken to me all day, and after what happened yesterday…”

  She cuts me off with her lips. Her mouth is warm and soft and tastes like strawberries. It starts off like most of our kisses. She wraps her fingers into the back of my hair and tugs gently. I cup her gorgeous face in my hands. But then the kiss changes. It’s needful, like she’s clutching onto me for security– almost as if she were in a panic. Her mouth continues to press against mine intensely; my body is responding to her touch in ways that I can’t control and our breathing is becoming heavier and more desperate.

  The bell telling us to go to class has already rung, and crowds of students are walking past my car. I force myself to pull away from her. After all the waiting, the school parking lot is not the place to give in to how badly I want her. Still, I realize how much I need to be close to her and I know that after today, I don’t want to wait any longer.

  I roll my forehead along hers and stare into her dark eyes. She still looks so vulnerable, like she might cry.

  “What is really going on?” I say into her ear.

  She folds her hands in her lap and starts to pick at the teal polish.

  “You remember what you said at my house the other night?”

  “Is that what this is about?”

  Quinn gives the smallest of nods.

  “I can’t say that I’m sorry, because, well, I’m not. But I am sorry if it upset you,” I say.

  She looks up from under her long brown hair.

  “Did you mean it?”

  I tuck a chestnut lock behind her ear. “Of course I did.”

  She sighs, and her mouth forms a soft, content smile.

  And that right there is all I need. I would follow her anywhere as long as she looked at me like that.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ben

  When I get to Quinn’s house that afternoon, I stop at the gate to watch her for a minute. Sometimes I can’t believe this ridiculously gorgeous girl standing there in the beige bikini top, and barely there white skirt is mine to love.

  Her face lights up when she sees me. Her smile stretches up to her eyes, and when I get close enough, she jumps up into my arms. I run my hands up her bare back, and twist my fingers through the string that ties her bathing suit top around her neck. Her skin is so hot and so bare-and so incredibly close to mine I can hardly stand it.

  “I’m glad you came,” she says. She runs her nails on my arm, softly scratching a line up and down my skin. I literally have to talk myself out of taking her right here and now.

  “Of course I came.” God she feels amazing. “You look so damn hot.” I whisper in her ear.

  She grins as she opens the massive lid of the stainless barbeque and starts flipping meat and vegetables.

  “Wait, you grill, too?” I ask.

  “Uh, yeah,” she answers. “Obviously. Why? Is that weird?” With the lid open, the grill is taller than she is. It blows my mind that this dainty little woman is in charge of bar-b-queuing for all of these people.

  “No, I guess not. I’ve just always thought that was like, I don’t know-”

  She raises her eyebrow. “A man’s job?”

  I nod with a wiry smile.

  She smacks my arm and laughs. “Sexist much?”

  “I guess so, sorry,” I laugh.

  She shakes her head, pretending to be annoyed.

  “Steak, chicken or burger?” she asks.

  “One second, let me just go and say hello to your parents,” I say.

  I’ve only met them once over the summer, and if I’m honest, I’m scared shitless of them. Her dad has an overbearing presence that screams “controlling asshole”, and everything about her mom just makes me sad. From her glassed over eyes, to the perma-frown she has frozen on her face. Still, I know how to play nice without having to go full on Eddie Haskell.

  She groans and motions to the grill. “But I’m cooking.”

  “Come on, you know I have to. It’ll just take a second.” I take her hand and lead her in their direction.

  We’re only a few steps away from her mom and dad when someone else approaches them. Some preppy guy with a smug-ass look on his face. I feel Quinn’s hand tense up under mine.

  “What is it?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

  It’s usually nothing with her. I wish to God she would open up to me. I narrow my eyes at her. It’s a silent plea to just once tell me what is on her mind. I don’t want her to shut me out, not today when I’m so ready to open up and be with her.

  “Fine, that guy right there,” she motions to the uptight looking douche. I nod. “That is Mark.” Her voice has an uncomfortable edge to it.

  “Oh…” I say. I visualize giving him a roundhouse kick to the gut. “I’ll be nice.” I smile at her trying to soothe her nerves. Her forehead crinkles with apprehension, so I kiss the hand I’m still holding.

  “Mom, Dad, you remember Ben, right?” Quinn says as we walk up. I shake her dad’s hand. Quinn obviously gets her looks from her mom. Her dad is tall and lean, and a little bit pasty. Quinn’s younger brother is built more like her dad. Quinn has the same petite, yet muscular build of her mom, the same gorgeous olive skin, and her matching dark hair and eyes.

  Her mom gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good to see you, Ben” Mrs. MacPherson says.

  I turn to Mark, who I tower over. I’m a good seven or eight inches taller than him, and I’m digging that.

  “I’m Ben,” I say, extending my hand.

  He shakes it and smiles. Something about his smile isn’t right-it’s beyond arrogant and makes me hate him an irrational amount. His grip is loose, and the expression on his face makes me think he would be better selling used cars than doing audits. Quinn was right, he looks like an ass. I can’t say I mind when she drags me off before Mark and I can have an actual conversation.

  “You’re right, he’s a tool,” I say to her. “And why is his shirt tucked in?” She laughs and then kisses me.

  “Want to go for a swim?”

  ****************

  “Hey Quinny, we’re gonna take off,” Sydney says.

  “Okay wait, Syd, I have that bag you wanted to borrow inside. Let me grab it for you before you leave,” Quinn says.

  She pulls herself out of the pool and wraps a towel around her tiny waist.

  “I’ll be right back,” she says, leaning over the edge of the pool to kiss me. She does it without looking around to see who is watching, or worrying that her parents won’t approve. I need to take the same approach with my mom when it comes to Quinn. No more waiting for or caring about her
approval.

  Sydney follows her inside the house, leaving me with Grant.

  “So man, Syd was telling me you play bass, right?” Grant says to me.

  “Yeah, do you play?” I ask.

  Grant and I probably would have been friends even if it weren’t for Quinn and Sydney being best friends. He is a pretty decent guy.

  “I play guitar, we should get together some time,” he says.

  “Sure dude, that’d be cool. Whenever, just let me know.”

  “All set?” Sydney asks. Grant takes the large duffel bag to carry for her.

  “Hey, I’ll see you guys later,” I say. I glance around the deck and yard, I don’t see Quinn so I pull on a t-shirt and head toward the house.

  When I step into the cool interior, I can hear Quinn’s voice inside the kitchen but I wait in the foyer for her to finish talking. I want to be alone with her. We’ve got plans to make.

  “What?” she deadpans. She sounds upset, or perturbed at the least. I lightly chuckle at her tone; her attitude is one of the things I love most about her.

  “I just came in to get something to drink, the cooler outside is empty,” a male voice answers.

  “Whatever just take what you want and go,” she says.

  I start to round the corner. I figure the guy will get something to drink and be on his way. And then I can tell her. I can tell her how badly I want her. I love her. I need her.

  But once I’m in the doorway, I freeze.

  “I already got what I wanted,” Mark says.

  He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her in to him in such an intimate way that it makes me instantly feel sick.

  My throat goes dry. My head is pounding all of a sudden.

  “Are you completely insane?” she yells. “Get off of me.” She shoves him away, but he just stands there, smirking back at her.

  I wish I could move because I want to fucking pummel him. My hands form involuntary fists, clenching and unclenching. My jaw feels locked in place. I don’t think I have ever been so angry in my entire life. But still, part of me can’t process what I’m seeing-and hearing.