Chasing Me

by Jennifer Probst

  I waited for Quinn's soft words and defense of my sad state. Instead, the breath whooshed out of me as she took both hands and shoved me full force, so I tumbled back onto the hard ice. I stared up at her, shocked, my ass on fire. "What the hell?" I yelled.

  Her dark eyes shot flames. "You're such an asshole!" Her foot, clad in her skate, actually thumped the ice as if she were stamping the ground. "How dare you insult both of us with those lame, whiny statements! I don't need stuff. Sure, falling in love with you in Key West was amazing, but do you really think it had anything to do with your fancy house or boat or wallet? Actually, I fell for you in spite of your money. I just want you. The real you, not the guy who hung with his asshole friends, or the boy his parents ignored. I want the passionate, funny, sexy artist who's real with me. Now you got me mad. I better skate it off."

  She spun in pure disgust and took off. I lay on the cold ground, staring at the empty space in front of me, while the crowds parted and glanced down to make sure I was okay. Then I began to laugh.

  Damn, she was hot. Especially when she got angry. All that quiet energy whipped to the surface and gave off crazy vibes of sex. She saw something inside me I always wanted to believe in, but rarely did, and Quinn never allowed me to doubt. Maybe she was right. Because if she saw all that inside me, there must be something worth fighting for.

  I pulled myself up, trying not to wince like a pussy, and skated after her. She was kind of floating in the middle of the ice, making graceful little circles, and I did the only thing I could do and that was to apologize. I grabbed her arm, whipped her around, and kissed her.

  Her lips were cold, her tongue was hot, and her mouth was sweet. She kissed me right back, even putting her arms around my shoulders, and I heard the breakout of applause. When we broke off the kiss and looked up, people were clapping and smiling at us, as if we'd starred in some holiday chick flick and I got the girl. Quinn smiled and blushed, and I took a bow, which made them clap harder, and for that perfect moment, I had everything I ever wished for.

  When I took her home, I stripped off her clothes with a slow reverence, swearing again not to take her like the animal I was, wanting to give her the adoration she deserved. Running my tongue over her naked body, I swallowed her cries with my mouth, sucked her pussy until she writhed beneath me, crying out my name, but I never stopped, just greedily devouring her musky, honeyed scent that fed me better than cocaine, and felt her come against my tongue.

  When I slid inside her tight, pulsing heat, I trembled with the force of a god, her bruised lips still begging me to take her hard, her hands tugging at my shoulders to make me move faster. I fought the violence that Quinn always inflamed and took her slow, measuring my thrusts with perfect precision, making sure she orgasmed first before I felt my balls tighten and I let myself explode, my seed pouring out, my hips jerking in pure fucking ecstasy for endless moments until I thought I'd black out.

  We lay in the darkness while I stroked her hair and swore not to fuck this up.

  If I'd only listened to my own advice.

  Chapter Five

  QUINN

  I MADE MY WAY INTO THE rec room at the New Beginnings Clinic, trying to hurry my steps. My father hated lateness, but I'd stopped by Joe's Coffee house first to see James before we parted for the night. Ever since our ice skating rink date, we'd only been able to grab a few quick meals together. Our shifts completely contradicted, which sucked, but we needed the extra money.

  I pushed open the door. Dad was speaking, so I snuck to the back row and eased myself into the metal folding chair. The room was structured for AA meetings, Al-Anon, and various workshops offered to help recovering alcoholics. A card table was set up with coffee and donuts. The walls held a few encouraging posters, but that was it.

  I rubbed my hands, trying to get warm from the chill, and concentrated on my dad's speech.

  "We never got promised fair or easy," he said, looking out into the crowd and meeting everyone's gazes. "We got promised a chance. What we do with it on a moment-to-moment basis is the only thing that matters. We're not gonna be perfect, or get to that holy place we all dream of where suddenly we never want a drink or a hit. The earlier you accept that fact, the easier it'll be. We take it craving by craving, and just like grief and rage and pain, it's always there, ready to come out of the closet. That's why we try to structure our lives so we can take it. A good friend. A family member. Hell, a good night's sleep, or a laugh, or anything that we can cling to that's good and right and makes us happy."

  I blinked, remembering Mom and the crippling pain her memory still gave me. Sometimes, I'd wake in the middle of the night, catching her scent, and sob into my pillow when I realized she was really gone. I knew Dad missed her every day, but those years he chose the bottle almost killed me. Like him, though, I got a chance at having a real father in my life when he wanted to get clean, and I was grateful. He was also a gifted speaker. I watched as the crowd of mostly men nodded and murmured things under their breath, faces unshaven, fingers gripped around Styrofoam cups, eyes filled with their own memories and demons. Pride shot through me as Dad finished his speech, and everyone clapped. He caught my smile and winked at me, taking a seat in the front row while the director made a few short announcements.

  My phone burst out with the sounds of Jimmy Buffet, and I quickly silenced it. Yep, that was my special ringtone for Cassie and Mac. I scooped it up and checked the group iMessage. Mac. Dammit, I'd thought things were great with her and Austin. Cassie and Ty had already broken up due to his job and constant disappearances, and it had taken a while for Cassie to be okay again.

  I broke up with Austin. Remember that article I told you about? The one that said he wanted out of the relationship?

  I remembered Mac told me about that strange article claiming Austin wanted to break up with Mac. The paparazzi sucked and lied on a regular basis. I typed out, Yeah, but it's just the usual tabloid fodder.

  Cassie quickly agreed.

  But it wasn't. Austin actually said that stuff. He wants more, and I can't give it to him. I...I saw him with another girl.

  Fury shot through me. How dare he screw with my friend. I texted fast. ASSHOLE!

  Jerk! Cassie threw in. I imagined Mac smiling at our combined rage. He wants to be free...so I'm going to give it to him.

  I wondered what was really going on. I hated for Mac to also lose the man she loved without a fight. I typed out, Think about it first.

  But the text quickly popped up on my screen. It's already done.

  In usual Mac style, she'd made her decision and was staying strong. My heart broke for another friend who'd lost the man she loved. I'd see her and Cassie soon in Key West for Spring Break again, when we all planned to meet up, but would I be the only one left in a relationship?

  In that moment, I wondered if James and I were as strong as I thought. Sure, we loved each other, but I was still getting that weird feeling he was trying to distance himself from me. The last time we had sex, he seemed to hold back again, and it was really starting to bother me. The first few months we were together, our physical connection lent an almost carnal, violent twinge I adored. It stripped me bare and refused to let me hide. But once again, he acted like I was a fragile piece of crystal that would shatter if he got out of control.

  Ugh. How was I supposed to have that kind of talk? I pictured it. Umm, babe, the sex is great and so are the orgasms, but can you bruise and bite me a bit more to make sure I know you really want me?

  Only you, Quinn. Can't you ever be happy the way things are?

  "Shut up. I'm so over you."

  "I'm sorry, I thought we just met. You're over me already?"

  I squeaked in distress, and jumped from my seat. Damn, I did it again. My cheeks turned hot as I stared at the man before me, flanked by my dad. He was smiling, and cute in that friendly sort of way that put you at ease right away. Ginger type hair and brown eyes that sparkled, he was nicely built and a few inches taller than my five-eight f
rame.

  "Sorry," I said. "I was kinda talking to my phone. Hi, Dad."

  "Hi, sweetheart." He gave me a quick hug. "This is Brian Cardone. I wanted to introduce you both since he'll be working at the clinic. He's the new Assistant Director. Brian, this is my daughter, Quinn."

  Brian shook my hand in a firm, warm grip. "Nice to meet you. I hear you're looked upon quite highly here."

  I smiled back. "Probably 'cause my father is a bit of a superstar."

  Dad shook his head. "Not true. Quinn works harder than most, and when she graduates this Spring, we're hoping she'll be able to get a full-time position."

  Brian looked intrigued, studying my face for a while. "Well, we'll have to see how we can make that happen, won't we? The clinic needs more people like you. Been with us for a while now. Most quit after six months, not able to hack it."

  I shifted on my feet. I always hated being the center of attention, but I wanted a job at the rehab on my own credentials. I loved working at the senior citizen home, but my heart told me I belonged at the clinic, working with alcoholics like my father. I pulled myself to full height and met his gaze full force. "I'm dedicated and want to make a difference here. I believe I can."

  He nodded. "Confident, too. I like that. Contact my office for a one-on-one appointment, Quinn." He pressed a card into my hand, lingering a bit. "Call me."

  "I will." My skin prickled as he refused to break eye contact, but then he looked up at my dad and I figured it was my imagination. I pegged him around his early thirties, and a total business professional. He'd never be interested in me in that capacity.

  My father was beaming when Brian walked away, and seemed more excited than me. "Quinn, he's going to be amazing for us. He has a vision and comes highly recommended from a rehab back in Florida."

  I raised my brow. "And he moved here? It's so cold out my nose almost froze off."

  "Better opportunity for him. He's settling in, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to offer to show him around. Hard to be in a new city."

  "We'll see. I don't want to get too personal if he's going to be my boss."

  I saw the calculated gleam in my father's eyes and knew what was going on. He didn't like James, and wanted to see me with a man he believed to be more my type. "Being nice and perhaps becoming friends isn't a big deal. Think about it. He seemed to like you."

  "Dad. I love James."

  He waved a hand in the air. "Sure. Where is he tonight?"

  "At the cafe."

  My father didn't respond for a few moments. "Quinn, did you ever really think of what could happen to you two if this art thing doesn't work? He has no education. No skills. He's almost twenty-five. What type of future do you plan on?"

  My heart beat, but I remained calm. "A future together is all I want. He'll succeed because he's amazing, and I believe in him. Now, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

  "Fine by me. Let's grab a bite to eat."

  We stopped and chatted a bit with the other attendees, but my father's words kept flashing in irritating neon. We'd only been together about eight months, and lived for the moment. Sure, we were deliriously happy, but would we have to start thinking seriously past the moment and make hard decisions? Were we ready to handle the hard stuff, beyond our connection, and make it work?

  Yes. Because our love was special and real. As my father said, life wasn't supposed to be easy, but if we were committed to each other and worked hard, everything would work out.

  Chapter Six

  JAMES

  "JAMES! WHERE'S THE cafe mocha latte with skim?"

  "Coming!" I ground my teeth together, wiping down the disgusting tables with a rag, then hurried back behind the counter. The fucking beast machine with its intimidating silver sheen, dials galore, and burning steam that had already torn some of my skin off, mocked me, waiting to screw with me for the millionth time.

  Joe's was wildly popular with the college crowd, who were both low tippers and slobs, the worst combination. It had taken me a while to get into the routine of working coffee, and I gotta admit I had it all wrong. Trust me, being behind the counter is a different experience. I remember how many times I'd waltz in, order a bunch of designer coffees, complain about the wait, and stroll out without another thought.

  Karma was a bitch.

  I grabbed the cup, wiped my sweaty brow with the back of my arm, and began working the bitch machine, trying to get the steps right without visiting the hospital with second-degree burns. I got this one right, though the foam was low, but I threw a lid over it and got it to the guy in the leather coat with his designer glasses. His gaze flicked over me like I was an uninteresting insect, and he flipped his change into the big glass jar that read WE LOVE TIPS. The few quarters clinked against the sides and fell into the mostly empty jar. He wore Italian gloves, a cashmere scarf, and smelled of Clive Christian cologne. Bastard.

  My temper inched a few levels higher, but I swore to keep it together. Reality sucked, but I needed to think of the big picture. Get into the art show, make some contacts, and get the hell out of this dead-end job. Check.

  The next hour flew as I made coffee, cleaned tables, and heated up pieces of quiche, placing a sprig of parsley on it in an effort to make it look gourmet. My pansy T-shirt marking me a proud Joe's employee stuck to my chest. The shop was stuffy and hot, and being around the endless steam didn't help my smell. I wondered how Quinn was enjoying her night.

  "James Hunt!"

  I turned at the sound of a familiar voice. My heart sank to hell itself when I stared into my old friend's face. "Rich? What the hell are you doing here?"

  Rich and Adam had been my best buddies for most of my life. We grew up together with our rich parents, tearing through our trust funds and traveling the world spending our money. Rich had been with me in Key West when I first met Quinn, and bet me I couldn't bed her within the week. When I came clean and chose her, Adam and Rich weren't too happy about my decision, and we had a huge fallout. Hadn't talked since. I had to admit I didn't miss them much, either. Distance made me realize what assholes they were, and how I became one of them when we hung together. I hated who I became with them, and rarely gave them much thought.

  Rich's gaze flicked over my dirty T-shirt, sweaty face, and hands holding a cup of coffee. A vicious delight gleamed in his dark eyes, and I knew I was about to get shit. "I flew in to attend the museum banquet. Dad's on the board, and you know how he likes to keep up appearances." His lip curled. "Speaking of appearances, is this what love brought you to, buddy? Adam and I were wondering why we haven't seen you around. Now I know why. We prefer the country clubs and the party scene. Not the coffee shops."

  I rolled my eyes, trying to act cool though I wanted to punch him in the mouth. "Whatever, dude. Take your shot, but you'll still be the asshole in the end."

  He laughed. "Still arrogant, huh? Always were. It's nice to see you come down a level or two. Hey, maybe you and Quinn will get married. Get a little apartment together. You can work the coffee shop, she can waitress, and you'll live happy ever after. Eat mac and cheese, pop out a few brats, and wake up one day ready to blow your brains out. Sound good?"

  I lowered my voice. "Fuck you. You never cared about anyone but yourself. You use people, have no real friends, and wouldn't know something real if it bit you in the ass."

  He smirked. "Yet I'm still rich and happy. And you're not."

  I held back, trying to breathe, when one of the other servers came over. "You being helped, sir?"

  Rich grinned. "Not yet. I want a caramel macchiato with skim, no whip. I'd like this man to take my order, please."

  "Of course." The server walked away, giving us an odd look, and I realized Rich would win this round no matter what. He'd caught me at my lowest, and it didn't matter if I had gotten the girl. I pictured him calling Adam, them having a few good laughs at my expense and gossiping about me to the rest of their crew until it got back to my parents.

  Fuck it. Fuck them. All of them.
/>   The old me would've shot over the counter and pounded his face. The new me turned away, went to the machine, and got his order. I slid it over the counter, keeping my face expressionless. "That'll be $4.57," I recited.

  Rich gave me a five. "Keep the change, buddy. Maybe that'll help you out. You and your noble intentions."

  His laugh mocked me as he turned and strode out without a backward glance. I tried to push him to the back of my mind and finish my shift, reminding myself I was the one who was happy with my new life.

  But his words still burned like a rash I couldn't get rid of.

  When I got to my crappy apartment, I showered and texted Quinn I was home. The quiet was conductive to brooding, so I sat and waited for her to answer me, but when a few minutes went by I knew she'd fallen asleep. I went to the small dorm-type refrigerator, cracked open a Coors Light, and drank.

  I thought of Rich laughing with Adam and telling his father how far James Hunt had fallen. I'm sure my parents would catch wind of my new job skills, and call with a humiliated command to use my damn trust fund and go back to Florida where I belonged.

  But I didn't belong there anymore. I didn't belong anywhere.

  Except with Quinn.

  I finished my beer, grabbed my phone and keys, and headed back out the door. Toward her apartment. Head tucked against the needle-like wind, I reached her place in record time, slid my key into the lock, and let myself in.

  She was asleep in the bed. One leg tangled in the sheets, dark hair spilling over the white pillow, little snores that she swore she never did emitting from her lips. My gut twisted, and I slowly took off my clothes, climbing into bed with her. She was warm and smelled clean and pure, and my dick hardened to get inside of her and forget everything but what she made me feel. I woke her slowly, my mouth sipping her at her plump lips, until she gave a catchy moan that got me more aroused, and I delved deep into her mouth, savoring her taste.

  She arched, entwined her arms behind my head, and gave it all back. Completely surrendering to me, even in sleep. I felt bigger than fucking Superman, and a bit of my control broke. I got rougher, stronger, pinning her to the mattress and parting her thighs, rocking my erection between her legs. I was ready to surge inside and bury myself deep.