by Claire Adams
"Your mother isn't well," Mr. Thomas snapped from the doorway.
Quinn looked at me and bit her lip. Mrs. Thomas' wild mood swings had always been cause for concern, but her husband was still pretending everything was normal. Even after Sienna, whose personality could be the perfect mirror image of her mother's, had suffered for it.
"I'll just grab the last of it," I said. I headed back to the dining room and considered going right out the front door.
"You're right, Father, she isn’t well. Don't you think she might want to see a doctor?" I heard Quinn ask.
"That's not what I meant. She's just sick of seeing you so far off track," Mr. Thomas responded. "If you could pull yourself back together, your mother wouldn’t have to be so stressed and worried."
I gripped a fork hard enough to leave an imprint on my palm. I knew Mr. Thomas tried to find excuses for his wife's erratic behavior. But this was the first time I had ever heard him place the weight of it squarely on Quinn's shoulders.
"I'm worried too about her. Don't you think after what happened to Sienna, we should ask her to see someone?" Quinn asked. Her voice was faint but I could hear the resolve in it.
"What you should be worried about is ridiculous scenes like that dinner. Do you see now what a mess you're making of everything?"
I strode back into the kitchen and forced myself to place the dishes lightly on the counter. The saucers still rattled harshly and Quinn jumped. The look in her eye begged me not to say anything.
I pointed downstairs and then turned to Mr. Thomas. "Thank you very much for dinner, sir. Do you need a hand with drying or should I say goodnight?"
"Goodnight," Mr. Thomas said.
I left the kitchen and went down the hallway past the guest bathroom. The next door led to the basement and I slipped down it. Mr. Thomas generally retreated to his office after dinner and would not notice my car still parked out front.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and heard the blood pounding in my ears. I was angry. Angry that a father could ignore the problems of his family and pretend everything was perfect. Angry that people really expected life to be perfect and they fell to pieces when it wasn't. I could not watch Quinn give in to that way of thinking. It would destroy her and the thought made me see red.
"I think you should go home," Quinn said. She jogged down the stairs. "It’s been a pretty rough night. I can't believe you stayed."
"I was going to tell you the same thing," I said. I caught her hands and held them tight.
"It’s okay, really," Quinn said, but she would not meet my eyes.
"Fine, we won't talk about it," I said. "Maybe we do better when we don't talk." I kissed her, hard.
When our lips met again, I realized why I had felt so restless. I felt as if I had been taking on water, sinking lower and lower. All it took was Quinn's kiss to buoy me back up. I hoped it did the same for her.
It was impossible to read her chocolate brown eyes. She pushed against my chest, broke the kiss, and looked up at me for a long time.
"I'm worried, Quinn," I said. "I don't think this is you. You are the woman I saw in Vegas. Confident, inspired, and open."
"You mean carefree and fun," Quinn said. She turned away. "Sorry, Owen. This is my real life."
"Why?" I asked. "Why do you think you have to stay here? I know they are your parents and I know you love them."
"And I owe them," she said.
"Not as much as you owe it to yourself to live your own life."
Quinn stepped back and crossed her arms. When she turned to face me, her eyes flashed. "And how am I supposed to do that?" she asked.
"By leaving here. By telling your parents that you quit the nursing program. Go out and find what you want to do. I know of a job. You'd be an amazing Beta Tester. Your win at the tournament and a recommendation from me would get it for you no problem," I said.
"So, that's it?" Quinn asked. "I ask how I'm supposed to live my own life and you have an answer all ready? You even have a job lined up for me. Tell me, Owen, if I jumped from my parents’ house to your apartment and this whole vision you have for me, is that really living my own life?"
"That's not what I'm saying, Quinn." I reached for her, but she stepped back farther. "I saw what you were like in Vegas at the tournament. That's what I want for you. That freedom and self-confidence."
"Why does everyone think they know how to live my life better than I do?" she asked. "Everyone around the table tonight. Trent, my father, you, and probably even that poor Nicky. And Sienna sure thought she could live my life better, but now she's dead."
I dropped my hands. "You're right, Quinn. I'm sorry. It’s up to you. I just hope I get to be part of it."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Owen
I left Quinn's parents' house and headed home. It took a long time sitting in my car in the driveway before I went inside.
"Something wrong with your car, man?" Jasper asked. "You started it like five times and then it turned off."
"No, it’s fine," I said. My roommate was the last person I wanted to talk to about Quinn. "Did you get the dream job?"
"Yeah, it's all lined up and it’s going to be sweet," Jasper said. "In fact, I'm going out to schmooze with a few of my new colleagues now. Wanna come?"
"No thanks."
Jasper breezed by me and out the door, leaving a strange odor behind him. I glanced at the kitchen, but the last time Jasper had cooked was over a year ago. Something smelled burnt, but it was too faint to make it out.
I had just slumped down on the couch when my phone rang. I strangled it for a moment. It wasn't Quinn, it was Scottie. I debated and then decided that he might cheer me up. No one had more problems with relationships than Scottie. He and Alison had been on and off for eight years. No matter the constant drama, they could not keep their hands off each other.
"She leave you again?" I asked.
"Owen, glad you're home. Alison left me again. Wait, how did you know?" Scottie asked.
"I took a Premonition Potion."
"Yeah, well if those worked, I would have known in Vegas that she was only going to mess me up again," Scottie said.
"So what are you going to do now?"
Scottie always had a bold new plan. "I'm starting over. Making a fresh start. Finding a whole new world, fresh blood, all that. Hey, I hear there's a party over at Winton's. Wanna go?"
"Winton's a gamer. We've played with him for the last six years. How is a party at his place going to be a fresh start?" I asked.
"I dunno, he invited a bunch of newbies," he said.
The thought of Quinn made me cringe. "I don't know if I can tonight."
"You have to, Owen. Come on, I can't go if I don't have a wingman and I have to go. I need this," he said.
I looked around my empty apartment. Anything was better than seeing reminders of Quinn everywhere. She needed her space, and I was determined to give it to her.
A half an hour later, and we were trapped in the entryway of Winton's condo. Someone had called in when they saw me get out of the car. The door was packed with newbies. Some wanted autographs, some wanted gaming tips, and everyone wanted to snap a picture with me.
Scottie took care of it all with a broad smile. "Why didn't I think of this sooner? You're a celebrity. I've got a celebrity wingman. That's right, ladies, Light Slayer is my wingman."
"Is it true that your avatar evolved in two days? Is that some kind of record?" a pretty woman with blue eyes asked.
Her boyfriend pulled her back inside. "It was three. Besides I heard that new girl evolved just as fast. Why don't you ask her?"
The comment kicked me in the chest. Was Quinn at the party? It could not be true. I had left her angry in her parents' basement with a full night of studying ahead of her. It would not be like her to sneak out and go to a party where she knew virtually no one.
Then it occurred to me that they all knew her virtually. Quinn had made quite an entrance at the tournament. It would not be
a surprise if Winton and the whole band of local gamers found her IP address and invited her along.
"Hey, there's Quinn," Scottie said. "No, wait, man, you can't leave me yet!"
Quinn spotted me halfway across the living room and rushed over so fast that I took two steps backward. "Did you set this up? You invited me on purpose?" she asked.
I stepped closer to her and looked down over my chest. "Let me guess, a Thief named LonesomeTown invited you. That would be Winton. Not me. I'm not in the habit of stalking newbies."
"Oh, so now I'm a newbie?" Quinn asked. "No more 'this is how you really lead your life’?"
"Look, Quinn, I'm not going to apologize for having an opinion or sharing it with you. If you don't want to listen to what I have to say, that's fine with me. Your life is your life. Don't think I want to get in the way," I said. Then I stepped around her and headed for the kitchen. I was glad to find a bowl of Winton's legendary blue punch on ice.
Winton himself poured me a glass. "So, I met your girl Quinn and I gotta say, man, she is perfect for you."
"Isn't she, though?" Artemis kissed my cheek and smiled. "You are so happy when you're around here. I mean the difference is huge. I'm so glad for you."
I had to laugh. Everywhere I went my friends told me how great Quinn and I were together – on the one night we had never been farther apart.
Scottie found me. "Don't worry, wingman, I've been doing just fine without you. Though I had a nice side chat with your girl Quinn. Man, she is wonderful. It was good seeing you two together in Vegas. Finally, someone that makes you happy, lets you be you," he said.
That was it. I put down my blue punch and turned to find Quinn. We ran into each other in the narrow back hallway.
"I was looking for you," Quinn said.
"And I'm supposed to say that I was not looking for you," I said. She was too close and I did not know what to do with my hands.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier. You were just trying to help," she said.
"No, you're right. I shouldn't be pushing you towards something that I want. This is your life, Quinn. I don't want you to feel any pressure from me."
As soon as I said it, all I could think about was the pressure of her lips against mine. Her firm body pressed against me. The pressure that built between us when we moved together.
"Quinn! Hey! I was hoping you might be here," the young desk clerk from the Wynn Hotel called down the hallway.
"It’s okay, go mingle. Have some fun," I said.
She squeezed my arm and smiled. I wished she had noticed the hoarse longing in my voice. I cleared my throat and watched her go. Quinn was still free to make her own decisions. We both were. What had happened in Vegas might have just been a one-time deal.
#
Watching Quinn make the rounds of the party with Dave was too much. Her smile was too bright. I could not look away. He got her a drink, helped her through the crowd, and listened intensely to everything she said. Quinn enjoyed the easy flirting and it lit her up like a sparkling firework.
"Oh no, man, don't do this," Scottie said. He handed me a full cup of blue punch. "Not tonight. I need my wingman tonight and a wingman cannot have that look on his face."
I tore my gaze from Quinn and looked at my friend. "There's no look. See? I'm fine," I said. "Let's check out the game on the back patio."
"They went that way," Scottie said. "How about we head back to the kitchen? There's a redhead there who's making flaming drinks. I could use one of those."
I nodded, but headed towards the back patio. Quinn was sitting on the railing of the deck with Dave leaning next to her. They were chatting and laughing over something. It made my skin crawl the way he was too close to her bare knee.
"No, see, this is the look I'm talking about," Scottie said.
"There is no look," I said. "I just want to make sure she's safe. We don't know anything about this guy."
"Or we know everything about him. He went to our high school, man, he's a year younger than Quinn. And, it’s pretty obvious that he adores her and would do anything she said."
"Great. Now I feel better."
"No, sarcasm can't chase it away. I still see it there in your eyes," Scottie said. He jumped in front of me and pretended to flash a penlight in my eyes. "Yup. You've failed the first test. I better take you down to the station."
"What look are you talking about?" I batted him away.
"Love, man. That's how you look at someone when you're in love." He took an ominous sip of his drink. "I recognize it. And your symptoms are bad."
"Why on earth would I take love advice from you?"
"Have you ever known anyone else more hopelessly in love than me?"
"Hopeless is a good way to describe you," I said.
"Come on. How many times have you caught me making that same exact face at Alison? You've warned me of it every time," Scottie said. "We'll be sitting around, my eyes will drift and I'm telling you, man, they find her like she's magnetic. Just like you are with Quinn. This could be a crowd of hundreds and you'd still be staring like that."
I forced myself to turn around a smile at a knot of adoring fans. "There. I'm not staring. There's no look."
"Yeah, whatever. It’s still there. How about you give her five minutes to head back inside and I'll time how long it takes for you to find her again?" Scottie said. "'Cause I'm guessing it'll be seconds, not minutes."
"What's seconds not minutes or should I guess?" a voice surprised us.
"Alison," I said, kissing her cheek. "Glad you could make it."
"Did you invite her?" Scottie asked. He mimicked a knife entering his back and stumbled dramatically to and fro.
"Of course you'd forget who introduced you to Winton in the first place," Alison said. She crossed her arms and looked Scottie up and down. "Why are you hanging on Owen? No luck finding the girl of your dreams?"
"I did. Turns out she's a damn harpy. I'm hoping once the moon wanes I'll see her again," Scottie said.
"How about I leave you two lovebirds alone?" I asked. Scottie tried to jump in my path, but I moved around him and made it into the house before he could beg me to stop.
I told myself I was looking for Winton, but I stopped when I saw Quinn in the front room. She was talking to a knot of Winton's race game friends. They were trying to sell her on the superior skills needed for virtual racing. She laughed but let them show her some of their favorite moves.
I could not get a deep breath. I considered the back patio again. Scottie was waving his hands at Alison as she stood with her hands on her hips. I checked out the front door instead.
The problem was that I knew Scottie was right. There were hundreds of ways to cover it up, dress it up, or ignore it. Still, I knew the truth and I was yelling it over and over at myself. I loved Quinn. I had probably always loved her. All the reasons we should not be together dissolved against the wave of relief I felt when she was near. Without her, I was always seeking.
"You look like you're ready to embark on a quest," a soft voice said.
I turned and found a petite redhead smiling up at me. For one moment, it was easier to look away from Quinn.
"I thought Light Slayer would be different in person. I mean, I hoped you would not be, but I'm surprised. You look exactly the same. Same intensity, same sense of purpose. It's impressive," she said.
I knew the flattering was only a temporary balm. I knew that indulging in it was cowardly and would cost me. But I could not turn back and see Quinn having fun with another man.
"How about we get a drink?" I asked. I held out my arm. "I hear someone was making flaming drinks in the kitchen."
The redhead smiled. "Hmm, I hope you like it hot," she said.
She stood up on her tip toes and whispered in my ear. I did not hear what she said, but it did not matter. I let my gaze wander over her slender, lithe body and I licked my lips.
When we turned to head towards the kitchen, Quinn was standing in the hallway. "I guess I was
just coming to say goodbye," she said.
"Was that your girlfriend?" the redhead asked, but it was too late.
I dropped her arm and chased after Quinn. "Are you okay?"
Quinn yanked her arm away and did not turn around. "I'm fine. It’s fine. I get it."
"Get what? Can we talk?" I asked. I reached for her shoulder again.
"Maybe I'll see you next weekend," she said and took off down the driveway.
I let her go. It felt wrong to be happy when Quinn was upset, but if she was upset, then she knew how I felt. Maybe she loved me, too.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Quinn
"Well, I for one am not going to tell you how to live your life," Darla said. "But I am going to tell you to drink this coffee. You don't look like you slept at all. Have you been crying?"
"No," I said. "That would be stupid. I don't have anything to cry about."
"No?" Darla asked. "So it would not have anything to do with that horrific dinner party your father threw for you or the fact that you went to a party to have fun and ended up seeing Owen licking his lips over some bottle-dyed redhead?"
I almost choked on a warm slug of coffee. "No. It has nothing to do with any of that. I just didn't sleep well. We start a whole new lab in nursing today. Maybe I'm nervous about that."
"Why would you be nervous? You cranked through all your catch-up work like it was nothing," Darla said. "And despite not studying last weekend, you still managed to pull off one of the highest test scores in the class."
"That doesn't mean I liked it. What's wrong with me, Darla? Why don't I know what I want to do with my life?"
"Because your life is not just some checklist."
"You're lucky. You know you want to be an artist, you are an artist," I said.
Darla fluffed up her hair. "So, why exactly am I paying all this money? Art is supposed to be one of those things that you just go out and do. Or maybe it’s one of those things that you have to master hundreds of techniques before you can really achieve it. See? I'm just as screwed up as you."
"So, what do we do?" I asked.
