About Last Night (10 page)

That was one of the reasons I liked Camilla. There was never an awkward goodbye. She fell asleep and I left. Till next time.

Making my way to the bathroom, I cleaned myself up and dressed, then quietly made my way to the door. I listened to the soft snoring of Camilla as I made my exit. I left my key on the table by the TV and closed the door behind me.

I stood in the hall, rubbing the back of my neck. I was officially fatigued, drained, and yet, I wanted to know if Maya was awake. I wanted to hear her voice before I went to sleep.

The first thing I did when I pulled into my building was turn on my cellphone. I didn’t even think before I called.

She sounded groggy, as if I had just woken her. “Quinn?”

Shit. I hadn’t checked the time before I dialed. I pulled my phone away from my ear and saw the time.

1:32 a.m.
Yeah. Shit is right.

“Hey, sorry I woke you. I just wanted to check on you, see if you were okay.”

She sounded confused and adorably sleepy. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

I wouldn’t scowl. I wouldn’t. “You didn’t call.”

I heard ruffling in the background as I imagined she sat up. “I know. I sent you a text.”

Then I did scowl. “No, you didn’t.”

She argued right back. “Uh, yes, I did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did!”

I fought a sigh. This was going nowhere fast. “Would I be calling to make sure you were okay if you had sent me a text?”

She paused. “Hold on a second.” She pressed buttons on her cell and I pulled it away from my ear as it beeped again and again. She muttered, “Shit,” then came back sounding apologetic. “You’re right. I did write out the message, but it’s still sitting in my drafts. I must’ve never hit send. Sorry, Cap’.”

I smiled at one of my many nicknames. “It’s all right. I really just wanted to make sure something hadn’t happened to you.”

Her voice came across pleased. “You didn’t need to do that.”

My response was immediate. “I wanted to.”

She swallowed hard then replied softly, “I’m okay.” Then she paused a moment before whispering, “Goodnight, Quinn.”

My heart skipped a beat, and it shocked me. “Sweet dreams, babe.”

She hung up and, looking down at my phone, I thought about the husky sweetness of her voice. I’d bet my life she had a soft pink blush on her cheeks.

It took me five minutes of thinking to realize I had been standing outside my front door, in the hall the entire time.

Chapter Sixteen

Mia

After Quinn called, it took over an hour for me to find sleep again. I couldn’t stop thinking about the rough lilt of his voice. Past memories assaulted me.

Coming home for Christmas had been a mistake. I did this every year, and every damn year, I regretted it.

Losing weight hadn’t been easy, but in the past year, I had lost nineteen pounds. Sure, it didn’t look like I had lost much, or even anything, but I felt better about myself and was proud of my willpower.

I didn’t drink. I didn’t smoke. I didn’t do drugs. But I ate. And having a food addiction was so much more severe than any other addiction, I thought, because food was available anywhere and everywhere. Years back, I would spend nights going to the gym then leaving just to be tempted by burger joints on the way home. There I would be, in my gym clothes, eating a burger in a dark part of the parking lot, feeling ashamed.

It was harder to say no than yes. I was weak when it came to my eats.

So when my mother looked at me with that disapproving frown and accused, “Have you lost weight?” I cracked. Would it have killed her to tell me that she was happy I was finally doing something about my weight? Yes, apparently, because every spare moment, she would shove something edible under my nose, and after a short argument, I would give in.

I’d bet I would go back to college at least six pounds heavier and a shitload sadder.

I never understood my mother or why she fought so hard when it came to my wanting to lose weight. The only thing I could think of was that she thought my personality would change along with my weight. I’d heard her make the same accusation about her sister, my aunt Penny.

Every year, a member of our block would host a Christmas party. This year was Mom’s turn. We ate Christmas lunch at midday then got to work making trays and trays of appetizers, dips, and desserts. Of course, I ate while I worked, which pleased Mom immensely and left me feeling ill. Around six p.m., members of the community started showing up. I went upstairs to change, only to find that the dress I had bought before I came home, nineteen pounds thinner, no longer fit.

I shouldn’t have been surprised by this. I had eaten almost every hour over the past three days and the dress had been tight when I bought it. Talk about discouragement. I almost threw a fit, but instead, I pulled up my big girl panties and dressed in black pants and a blouse. I was underdressed and felt ugly, but it was my own fault.

I stood in a corner most of the night. Harry disappeared after lunch to do a shift at the bar, and all the normal people my age were out with friends and loved ones. I was the only person under forty at this shindig, and it blew.

Mom had placed me on waitress duty, as if I wasn’t embarrassed enough, so I spent the majority of the night taking trays of finger-food, walking them around for a minute, and then hiding in the corner with the tray, eating all the contents of said tray till I felt sick.

Ten-thirty rolled around and I was sure Mom wouldn’t notice my absence, so I fled upstairs. If Mom had an issue with that, she could suck an egg. I was done.

I got out of my clothes and into my Snoopy pajamas, tied my hair into a high ponytail, and sat on my bed, reading. Mom had placed a red rope across the stairs, so no one would be coming up, and I felt it safe to leave my door open.

I should’ve closed it. Then locked it. Then placed a chair against it and sat in that chair.

Being engrossed in my book had nothing on the tall, stumbling man who gripped my doorframe to keep from falling over. He held on tightly with one hand, his body swaying from side-to-side as he groaned and ran a hand down his face. Wide-eyed, I held the book to my chest and heaved in anxious breaths. Then he saw me.

His hair looked freshly cut, was dark brown and styled in that way hairdressers do when they’ve completed your new ‘do. I couldn’t see his eyes from where I was, but I knew they were too light to be brown. His tall body was lean but muscular, and the sleeves of the black shirt he wore over his dark jeans had been pushed up to the elbows, his top button undone. He leaned forward, squinting hard, looking right at me and teetering.

“Minnie, right?”

He knows me?

There was only one person who called me Minnie. My brother. By process of elimination, I quickly realized who this person was. I blushed and nodded slowly.

He smiled crookedly, and it was shocked me at how my stomach fluttered. “I’m Matt Quinn, Harry’s friend.” Before I could say anything, he stepped a foot into my room and sat. “Mind if I sit?” He stretched his legs out in front of him, giving me a close-up view of just how tall he was.

I opened my mouth to speak, to say something witty and make him laugh, but I couldn’t. I was paralyzed.

He sighed, leaning back in the chair, as if this was something we did all the time. “Why aren’t you downstairs drinking, or dancing, or mingling? It’s Christmas.”

That, I could answer without making a fool of myself. I shrugged lightly. “I don’t know. It’s not really my thing.”

He nodded as if he understood. “Me neither,”—then he smiled—“but I don’t mind the drinking part.”

My brother had told me little about Quinn. All I knew was he was in a bad way, keeping bad company, but he was trying to get himself together. When I asked Harry what he was involved in, he told me that was Quinn’s business. Harry stressed that Quinn was a good guy, but he just didn’t know it.

I choked down a laugh. “I can see that.”

He grinned. “Yeah, Harry sent me up here to find his bed and stay put. Apparently, I offended some old lady by asking if her hair was real.” He winked. “I got sent to time out.”

Then I did laugh, quickly slapping a hand over my mouth and wincing. “Oh, no. That was Mrs. Morrison, and yes, she wears a wig.”

“A wig? That was not a wig. That was more a toupee.”

Smiling, I shook my head, but mentally agreed with him. It was a toupee, and whoever sold it to Mrs. Morrison was not her friend.

He jerked his head to my chest, blinking sleepily. “You like to read?”

“I love to read.” I added, “It’s better than real life.”

Hazel. His eyes were a green speckled with brown. They were hazel.

He looked at me, frowning. “Why do you say that? There are lots of things in life that are better than reading. There’s eating, sleeping, drinking a cool beer in the summer, getting caught in the rain, and then there’s se—” He coughed. “Well, I could name a hundred things better than reading.”

I smiled, but it was sad, mainly because I
was
sad. The things he had just named held no appeal for me. “Not for me. I’m heavy-set, shy, and a nerd. Not much hope for me, I’m afraid.”

The words came quickly, and I hadn’t realized how pathetic they sounded until they were out in the open. My face mottled in humiliation and, hugging my book to my chest, I dipped my chin, hoping Quinn would just go away and leave me in my little bubble.

But then he spoke. “You know what, Minnie? You’re going to bloom into a beautiful butterfly. I know it.” He went on, “And I don’t mean you have to be the prettiest girl or the thinnest girl to make that happen. You just have to live a full life and experience real-life things to blossom.”

Without another word, he stood, walked out of my room, and turned left.

A second later, he walked past my room in the opposite direction, and I smiled to myself.

Harry’s room was on the right.

I stayed awake until almost two-thirty. Just as my eyes began to feel heavy, I picked up my phone.

Me: Sorry I worried you. x

His response was immediate.

Quinn: Sorry I woke you. x

My heart fluttered. It was only five days till Sunday.

My eyes drooped, closed, and I fell asleep thinking of Quinn and his crooked smile.

Ella and I had bonded a lot over the last few days. It was Thursday, and I found that if I avoided Mrs. Dietrich as much as humanly possible, Addison Ltd could be a pleasant working environment.

I heard Ella’s heels clomping my way before she sat on the edge of my desk and ran a hand through her hair, poofing her curls. “Mia, honey, what are you doing Saturday?”

Typing the last of my sentence, I looked up at her and smiled. “Got nothing planned, really. Of course, my gay neighbors will probably do outrageous cocktails and make divine, extravagant food, dragging me over there to watch trashy reality TV.”

Her brown eyes wide, Ella muttered, “Well, shit. That sounds better than what I was going to offer. I got some serious competition on my hands.” I rolled my eyes, but softened it with a smile. She leaned forward and rushed out, “Okay, listen, there’s this guy I like, and my girl Tanya told me he’s going to be at a bar in the city on Saturday for this guys’ night out thing, and I really want to go, because I’ve been dying to see him again, and maybe if you come with me, I’ll actually have the balls to talk to him this time.” Her face pleaded. It was adorably pathetic, really. “
Please?
”

I narrowed my eyes at her. She held her hands together and fluttered her lashes at me, smiling innocently. But when it came down to it, I had little friends here at home and it would be nice to hang out with a girl my age. I shrugged. “You know what? I’m in.”

Ella gasped. “Really? You’re not shitting me, are you? Because I will cut you.”

I chuckled. “No, I’m not shitting you. Saturday night. I’m there.”

She silently squealed. “That’s what I’m talking about. We’re going to dress up sexy-like, go out, and get our drink on!”

In her excitement, she grabbed my shoulders and shook me. My head swung around like a ragdoll. Laughing, I pried her long red nails off me and shooed her away.

I got home around seven, a little later than intended, but it was worth it to know the desperate and dateless ball now had five possible hosting locations.

All but running to the shower, flinging my clothes off on the way, I jumped under the spray and showered quickly. I didn’t even have time to sing my usual playlist. I dried, slipped on panties and my nightshirt, and then ran and jumped onto my bed. I found the remote, turned on the TV, and then picked up my phone and dialed.

He answered immediately. “If you were an animal, which would you be?”

A single brow rose as I muttered a confused, “Huh?”

“Animal. Which would you choose to be for the rest of your life?” He sounded lost in thought. “I think I’d be a meerkat. They’re kind of cute.”

I mumbled, “Um, okay then.” I cleared my throat and thought. “Well, I could be a lapdog and have myself pampered for the rest of my life. Or I could be a wild horse running out in the open with my peers. Or maybe I’d be a sloth and just sleep forever.” I hissed in a breath then added, “Although I did see this documentary once about sloths and how they’re so dumb that sometimes they go to reach for a branch but grab their other arm by mistake, ultimately falling to their deaths.” I nodded to myself. “Yeah, sloth is out.”

He sounded amused. “So which animal are you choosing?” He added quickly, “Remember, you’re stuck like that forever, so choose wisely.”

I sat up straighter. “Zebra. I’ll be a zebra.”

He sounded impressed. “Zebra, huh? Why?”

“I don’t know. They’re majestic.”

I could hear his approval. “Oh, yeah, majestic as fuck.”

“What a random question,” I muttered to myself.

He huffed out a breath and I could almost see him shrug. “I’m a random guy, Maya.”

My lips pursed and I nodded. “This is true.”

“Hold on a second.” Rustling came down the line and then he was back. “Okay, I’m comfortable. Are you comfortable?”

My eyes glanced around my room then I placed a pillow behind my back, affirming, “I’m comfortable.”

“Good. I’ve got a few hours before I have to leave, so we’re going to talk about what exactly you want Sunday to be.”

Oh, I did not want to talk about this. I would talk about anything—
anything
—but that! “Uh, I really don’t want to talk about it. I sort of hoped we could wing it?” What should have been a firm statement came out as a weak question, and three decibels too high.

His response was gentle but firm. “We should talk about this.” His speech quickly softened. “Don’t you want to have a good experience, Maya?” I grunted and he asked, “Will you help me out then? Talk to me. We’re probably on different sides of the city. I can’t see you. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

I was being a wuss. “Of course I want to have a good experience; that’s why you’re the one doing the deflowering. I thought you did this kind of thing all the time.”

He went silent, then, “I’ve never been with a virgin before. This is a first for both of us.”

My mouth gaped. I just assumed he took on virgins on a weekly basis. But that was what happens when you assumed. You make an
ass
out of
u
and
me
. So that was why I asked a hushed, “What do you want to know?”