by Shae Scott
I picked up the piece of paper, my jaw set as my teeth ground together. The anger that started to take hold as I looked down at her delicate writing surprised me.
Keaton-
I hate goodbyes. I hope you understand.
Thank you for this week. It was unexpected.
And it was amazingly beautiful.
I will remember you always.
Love,
Quinn
I crumpled the letter into my fist. She hated goodbyes? Seriously? This was a joke. Why the fuck did I even care? The door to the suite opened and my head jerked up, half expecting to see Quinn, hoping that she'd changed her mind and come back. But it was only Miles.
"Hey," he greeted me casually.
I didn't return the greeting; I was still clutching the paper in a death grip.
"Dude, are you okay?" he asked shutting the door behind him. I'm sure I looked like a crazy person, standing there in my towel with an angry scowl on my face.
"Quinn left," I said.
Miles' brows furrowed. "I know. I just saw them."
That sparked my interest. "When?" I asked.
"I just left them downstairs. They were on their way to the airport. What's wrong?" he asked.
"Why didn't you call me? Or try and stop her until I could get down there?" I yelled, happy to have somewhere to direct my frustration.
"What are you talking about? Quinn said that you two had already said your goodbyes," he said.
"She left a note. I guess that counts," I muttered.
"Oh," Miles said.
"Whatever," I grumbled stalking back into my bedroom and slamming the door. Fuck. My body pulsed with anger and frustration and it was only amplified by the fact that I had no idea where it was coming from. Sure, she'd left a note instead of hanging around for an awkward goodbye. I got it. Hell, how many times had I pulled that kind of escape? But this hadn't been some one night stand.
I thought about the conversation that I had planned to have. The way I'd imagined the whole thing going. I guess she'd saved me that embarrassment. What did it even matter? It's not like I was looking for a relationship or anything. I'd just wanted--something. I sighed and kicked at the suitcase that sat next to the wall. I threw the crumpled paper on the floor and then grabbed some clothes from the wardrobe, hangers flying to the floor. It was time to leave this city and head home. There was nothing left here to worry about. If she could leave, then so could I. No strings. No tomorrows. No worries.
I pulled my jeans on, sliding my belt through the loops. Then I grabbed a thermal and pulled it over my head, muttering under my breath the entire time. I grabbed up the suitcase and tossed it onto the bed. Might as well pack it up. I began tossing in my belongings haphazardly.
I ignored the knock on the door, knowing it was just Miles trying to butt into my business. "You okay, man?" he asked coming in uninvited.
I ignored his question and asked instead, "What time does our flight leave?"
"Not until tonight," he said carefully.
I grunted, annoyed. I didn't want to be in this room anymore, where we'd spent the last few nights, where I'd woken up beside her this morning.
"I'm gonna pack up now. Then I think I'll head downstairs and write a little," I said flatly.
"Okay," Miles said. He knew me well enough to know that I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to be left alone. Writing helped me process the garbage in my head and right now I had a shit ton of garbage. "I'll just get packed up too. You let me know if you need anything," he offered. I gave him a quick nod of acknowledgment before he left me alone.
When I was done packing the suitcase I reached out to find my messenger bag. I was anxious to get out of here for a bit, find a place I could process all the unfamiliar feelings that were weighing me down. The note was still crumbled on the floor. I stared at it for a long moment before finally picking it up and smoothing it out as best as I could. I folded it up and slid it into my bag before walking out.
THE FLIGHT BACK to New York was quiet. I was still brooding, so I was glad when Miles put on his headphones and fell asleep in the seat beside me. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to think about this week, or about Quinn or any of it, but that was hard to block out. The more it invaded my thoughts the more irritated I became. She should have said goodbye. I deserved more than a note. My brain ran over the events of the week. A week. I'd known the girl for a week and yet here I was lost in the whole thing like some needy asshole. If I was being honest, the whole thing pissed me off.
If she wanted to play it this way, that was cool. I was a pro at playing it this way. Who needed the stress of attachment? I grunted to myself as I shifted in my seat. I just wanted to be home and done with the whole thing. When I got home I would put it all away; pull out the pieces later when I needed inspiration. That's how it usually worked. The only thing different this time around was that I'd held on a little too long. I'd let her get into my head,
Fact is she’d probably done me a favor by walking out. Out of sight, out of mind. Purge and move on. For God’s sake, it was just a week and she was just a girl.
I WAS TURNING into a stalker. I think my low point came when I set the Google alert. What was wrong with me? So much for letting it all go and moving on after California. Nope, I had gone and become an obsessed, crazy person. I wondered if all of Keaton's flings had turned out like this. Maybe there was a support group somewhere.
I reread all of his books, trying to find pieces of the man that I'd gotten to know, the one behind the curtain. Even after spending a week with him I still felt like he was a mystery to me. Especially now that he had become a part of my past. It’s funny, now that I was back home, and obviously falling down the rabbit hole of social media stalking I’d started to lose my grip on the memories. My Keaton and the Keaton plastered on these pages were not the same and it left me feeling hollow. All I saw was the guy with the too big smile, the sexy swagger and playboy reputation. Chances were he’d gone straight back to that lifestyle the moment he’d stepped off of the plane back in New York. But I couldn’t help it; I had a hard time stuffing that romantic girl back in the closet. She was still holding on to kisses on noses, long talks and a hundred questions.
This was why it was so hard to watch him from the sidelines. I was a voyeur. I only had the public version of him now. But it was never his public persona that had left me intrigued. It was the man. The man I’d spent hours talking to about every random detail, who had shown me what it was like to feel something in its purest form, without question or explanation, the man that was still showing up nightly in my dreams. The stalking was just an outlet to try and feel closer to him now that our time was done.
Still, I knew I needed to stop. The more I stalked the more jaded my memory became. I'd gone from remembering sweet moments to rationalizing them all away as make believe. I was sitting at the kitchen counter staring at my laptop, the screen pulled up to his profile page when I got caught.
"I'm about to do an intervention," Lily said as she came breezing through the room. I quickly shut the lid of the computer, pretending not to know what she was talking about. She raised an eyebrow at me and smirked.
"You've been moping around and stalking the guy since we got back. Why don't you just call him?" she asked.
I shook my head, "No way. I'm not calling him. And I'm not stalking him. I'm just keeping up to date on his -- career," I shrugged.
She laughed, "Right. Come on, Quinn, just admit it. You like him. It's okay to like him," she said.
"It was a fling," I pointed out.
"You like him." Lily's satisfied smile was enough to annoy me.
"So what? I like him. Don't make a big deal about it," I warned. I didn't need Lily sticking her nose in it, even if she meant well. I knew what I was doing.
"So, if you like him then why aren't you talking to him? I don't get it," she said.
"It's not about whether I like him or not. We had a great time together, but it was a vacatio
n fling. It wasn't real life," I said.
"Not real life?"
"No. It was a fantasy. It's better to leave it there. It never would have survived in the real world. We just thought it was best if we left it, before we could spoil it," I said confidently.
"You both decided?" Lily asked, her eyebrow doing that annoying questioning lift.
"Yes, we both decided."
"Does Keaton know that?" Lily asked casually.
I wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but I didn't have the guts. I knew she still talked to Miles and there was a chance she knew things I'd be interested in. But I refused to ask her. I didn't need to be tempted into doubting my decision.
She waited for me to say something. I knew she wanted me to ask and she knew I really wanted to.
"We agreed," I said finally.
"That's stupid," she huffed out in frustration.
"It's smart," I countered.
"Quinny, sometimes you have to take a step away from the logical or you will miss out on life. I love you to death, but you gotta just dive in sometimes. Trust me."
I'd thought about it. I'd thought about it a lot. But honestly, I didn't want to ruin it. The memories were all so nice. I didn't want to add any bad ones.
"Not with this," I said quietly.
Lily sighed, resigned to my decision.
"Fine. I still wish you would reconsider. I saw how happy you were. I liked seeing it," she admitted.
I couldn't help but smile.
"Yeah," I agreed, letting my mind drift to the week we'd spent together.
"Tell me about it," Lily probed. I'd already told her about it. She knew, but because she was my best friend and saw the dreamy look that crossed my face, she was giving me permission to talk about it again.
"I was different with him. I was more alive. It was almost like I had the freedom to be somebody else and it was easy because we both knew that it wasn't going anywhere. It took the pressure off," I said.
"Do you think that's the only reason you let go with him? Because it had an expiration date?" she asked seriously.
I shrugged. I didn't really know the answer to that question. "I thought it was," I admitted.
"And now?"
"I don't know. The whole thing seems so far away. It was one week. You don't fall for someone after only knowing them for a week," I said.
"Who says?" she challenged. Of course Lily would see nothing wrong with that scenario. She jumped freely and didn't care about the consequences.
"Did you fall for Miles?" I asked curiously. She didn't bring him up much, even though when she did she would smile.
"We aren't talking about Miles," she said sweetly.
"But if we were?" I probed.
"If we were I would tell you that I had a wonderful time with him while we were in San Francisco and that I'm open to anything that might happen should our paths cross again."
"You are so cryptic," I laughed.
"Here's the thing," she said taking a seat at the breakfast bar. "You can spend your whole life playing it safe and waiting for things to make sense on paper, or you can just go for it and see what happens. The way I see it sometimes that's the part where you have the most fun. Do I think you can fall for someone in a week? Of course I do. Do I think you can admit that you have? Probably not. It's just who you are. You are careful and cautious. You think things out. I love that about you. You've probably saved my butt a few times by doing just that. But sometimes you have to take a chance or you'll miss out on some really great things. You took a chance and look how great that week was. So great that you didn't leave it behind like you planned to. Maybe that means you shouldn't just write it off, ya know?" she said.
I wanted to buy into her words. Part of me wanted to go back and not run out on him that last morning. But it was no use now. What's done was done and I couldn't take any of it back.
And what's more, in my heart, I still believed it had been the right call. I wasn’t cut out to be that girl long-term. Some of us just didn’t have the wings to fly among the clouds. I knew that, and I think Keaton had too.
QUINN WALKING OUT had been for the best. She had saved me from a mess of complications that I didn’t need, nor did I have time for. Not with my schedule. I knew that. It was the logical choice. It had been the smart choice. Besides, what did I know about relationships? Aside from the fact that I wasn't cut out for them. I didn't need them.
I had a great life. Why would I want to change it? I was surrounded by beautiful women willing and begging to live out some kinky scenario they read about somewhere. I had it made. I did not need, nor did I want, to give that up for the drama and suffocation of monogamy.
So why couldn't I get her out of my head?
Yesterday I bought a bottle of her perfume. I told the sales girl it was a birthday gift for my sister. Really, I just wanted to be able to smell her again. It had been haunting me. It wasn't quite the same straight from the bottle, it lacked her sweetness. There was something about the way it clung to her skin. It wasn't something I could replicate. It was a shame, I missed the smell of her. I missed the taste of her.
It was crazy the way she occupied my brain. She had wrapped herself around my every thought. It was uncomfortable. I needed to shake it off. I needed to, but I didn't really want to. And that was the part that was a complete mind fuck.
I'd been with my share of girls. I'd even had a handful of casual relationships, but nothing had left me feeling this unsteady, this distracted. I wondered if it was just the fact that she'd made the decision. She'd been the one to say that it would only last the week. She'd been the one to sneak out while I was in the shower. She was holding all of the cards. That wasn't something I was used to.
She'd made the call and I'd agreed to it. It had been the perfect set up, one week with an awesome girl, and then everyone goes on with their lives. It should have been a done deal. So why was I still spending quiet moments imagining her legs wrapped around me, or remembering her soft breath on my bare chest as she slept tucked in beside me? Why was I still thinking of questions that I should have asked when I’d had the chance?
I needed to go out. I needed to grab Miles and just hit up a club or something. Get her out of my head and let it all go. I was making the whole thing out to be something it wasn't. Something it never could have been. Something I didn't even want.
Time to stop dicking around and get out of this apartment. On second thought, maybe dicking around was exactly what I should be doing. Get my mojo back. Find my game face and get back to what I was good at.
I picked up my phone and called my brother.
"What's up?" he answered.
"You got plans tonight? I want to go out. I need to clear my head and blow off some steam. You in?" I asked. I was restless, pacing back and forth through the living room.
"Sure, I don't have anything going on. Where do you want to go?"
"Let's go to Crave," I said.
"I'll meet you there, what time?"
I glanced at the clock, it was almost ten. "I'll see you in an hour." I hung up and headed to the bedroom to change. This is exactly what I needed. I was feeling better already.
The cab dropped me off and I found Miles leaned up against the wall outside the club. He gave me a nod and followed me to the door. After paying the cover we moved through the masses towards the bar. The music was loud and throbbing and the lights danced, turning everyone into a kaleidoscope of color.
I came here a lot. The bartenders knew me and the hostess always found us a little spot tucked away where we could scope out the crowds. This is what I’d needed, the familiar.
"So, are you on the hunt this evening?" Miles asked as we slid into the over-sized curved booth. The waitress gave me a smile as she leaned in, flashing her tits.
"The usual?" she purred. It was amazing how she could pull off a sultry whisper and still be heard over the thumping bass. I gave her a slight nod and answered my brother instead.
"We just have
n't been out in awhile," I said.
"Not since San Francisco," he said staring out into the crowds gyrating on the dance floor. I growled under my breath, but otherwise ignored his pointed remark. I didn't need his opinions on Quinn. I didn't want to talk about her. I was here to forget.
I leaned back scoping the crowd, looking for a distraction. Judging from the amount of skin I was guessing there was a lot to choose from. The waitress brought us our drinks and I sipped on my whiskey. Miles was on his phone, texting. He made a great wingman. I rolled my eyes and focused in on the hot bodies dancing in front of us. They moved together, sweat soaking their skin as they seemed to vibrate to the beat of the bass.
I zeroed in on one girl in particular, watching as she swayed her hips. She had dark hair and it hung low to her waist in dark waves. Her skin was tanned and on perfect display with her top falling just short of her belly button and her skirt riding low on her hips. She wanted to be noticed and I was noticing. I downed the rest of my drink and got up from the booth. Miles looked up to see where I was going; he'd been so preoccupied with his phone that he had barely noticed anything going on around him.
"I'm going to go dance," I said simply. He knew the drill. He'd wait until I was tangled up with her and then he'd either find his own distraction or he'd head home. We'd played this game many times. Typically he'd be a little more present, but honestly, I didn’t care. I wasn't up for games. I wanted easy. I wanted someone who didn't want my number, wouldn't remember my name and wouldn't be offended when I didn't remember hers. I wanted fast. Meaningless. A release and a purge of all the things clouding my brain.
I sauntered over to the dance floor, weaving my way through the throngs until I reached her. Her eyes locked on to mine and her tongue ran across her swollen lips. I let the music move me and smiled as she closed the space between us. She was beautiful. I didn't even care that she knew it. Like I said, I wanted easy.
"Hi," she mouthed as she ran her hand up my chest. I grabbed her hand and led her deeper onto the dance floor. She was more than willing to go with me. I needed the crowd around me and the all encompassing music to take me under. I didn’t want to think.
