Just Say Yes (11 page)

Lukewarm

Cass pushed up onto her elbows and wiggled her toes in the sand. “So tell us about this Willll,” she said, drawing out his name for effect.

Quinn wasn't sure why she'd even brought Will up to the girls. She'd known that a thorough interrogation would commence immediately. But something inside her liked the idea of her friends getting excited about the date. Mainly because she was hoping some of that excitement would rub off on her. Though he was attractive and, from what she could tell, relatively interesting, Quinn couldn't seem to pump herself up for her night out with Will. “There isn't much to tell. At least not yet. I only talked to him for a few minutes.”

“Well, you at least saw what he looked like. Give us the deets,” Lauren prompted.

“Um, he's maybe just over six feet, dark hair. Just long enough to be a little wavy. He has glasses.”

Quinn knew that would get Simone's attention. Glasses had become her latest obsession. She had a few different pairs herself and insisted that they gave even mundane-looking men enough character to make them sexy. “Oooh, are they the trendy ones that give guys that obscenely hot look? I'm already picturing James Franco meets Clark Kent.”

Quinn thought for a moment, trying to picture Will in her mind. “I mean,
I
think he's hot. Not sure if he's James Franco. He kind of has that smart, classic look to him. You can tell he has style. It'll definitely be a departure from the norm for me.”

Lauren reapplied sunscreen to her face. “What about his body?”

Quinn glanced around at the girls. “Do you know how superficial we all sound right now?”

The girls stayed quiet for a moment, having a silent conversation. Finally Lauren spoke on everyone's behalf. “Yeah. I think we're good with it.”

Quinn rolled her eyes, but she enjoyed chatting about a gorgeous guy as much as the next girl. “Well, I didn't get a chance to see how built he was or anything. He was in suit pants and a dress shirt. It's not like I asked him to undress at the bar. And besides, Tim was waiting for me at the table, so I wasn't overly concerned with Will's musculature.” She scanned the beach until she found what she was looking for. “If I had to guess, he probably has a similar build to that guy over there.” She pointed. “The one in the orange board shorts.”

The girls craned their heads to see, then nodded their approval and gave their okays.

“Wait,” Lauren said suddenly. “Tim was right there when you asked this guy out?”

“Yeah. Well, like ten feet away. I asked Will out at the bar, and Tim was at our table. Why?”

“But Will must have seen him when you went back to the table.”

“I have no idea. What does it matter?” Quinn lifted her sunglasses onto her head as if that would make Lauren's questions easier to understand.

“Just thought it would look weird. That you were there with a guy when you asked out another.”

Quinn hadn't thought of that. She wondered what Will thought about her hitting on him and then leaving to go sit down with some other guy. For all he knew, she was dating Tim too.

“Although, I guess Will must have known you and Tim aren't together,” Lauren said, clearly rethinking her original stance on the issue. “I mean, could you imagine Tim Jacobs standing by while a woman he liked asked someone else out? Will probably just assumed Tim was your brother or something.”

Quinn felt her face drop slightly at Lauren's words, but she did her best to mask it. “Yeah, probably.”

Concern swept over the girls' faces. Clearly, Quinn was a poor actress. “What is it?” Simone asked. “I thought you'd be more excited. You're going out with a gorgeous guy in three days.”

“Yeah,” Cass said, “I thought after that last date disaster, you'd be dying to go out with someone who seems relatively normal.”

Quinn perked up. “That's actually it. I guess I'm just nervous about this date being a waste of my time too. I mean, why go out with someone you don't like?”

“How do you know you don't like him? You said yourself you only talked to him for a few minutes.”

Cass had a good point. She didn't or
shouldn't
know if she didn't like Will. She certainly liked the
idea
of dating someone like him—someone who wasn't exactly her type. He definitely wasn't the boy next door. He had a good job, probably more money than he knew what to do with, and just as many women vying for his attention. He seemed charming and intelligent. Quinn certainly wasn't used to men like him, and though she thought a change of pace might be exactly what she needed, she wasn't sure
Will
was exactly what she needed.

•   •   •

Dinner on Tuesday was at the aptly named Mediterranean Kitchen in Downtown D.C., which Quinn was thankful for because it meant she could decline an awkward car ride with Will and just meet him at the restaurant after work instead. There was something about getting into a car with someone you'd conversed with only sparingly that screamed “Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!”

Though, as Quinn climbed out of her car and handed her keys to the valet, she guessed she'd done even less reconnaissance on Clarabell. But that had been different. Tim had been with her then. And as had become customary recently, the moment Tim entered her thoughts, he infiltrated them completely. He'd been . . . “Avoiding” wasn't the right word, but he'd definitely been absent from Quinn's social calendar since the previous Thursday. She'd texted Saturday to see how he was but had received a short
Swamped at work. I'll talk to you later.
She hadn't heard from him again until a few hours before her date, when he'd sent her another brief message:
Good luck tonight ;).
It made Quinn feel like Seabiscuit gearing up for the big race.

She walked into the restaurant and let her eyes wander around the space. It was rustic, with elegantly simple wooden tables and steel chairs. One wall was covered in wood with a faux barn door as an accent piece. A granite bar sat on the opposite side of the room, with decorative wooden light fixtures. The owners had clearly spent a small fortune creating the homey environment that screamed rural Italy. Quinn was momentarily worried that she wouldn't recognize Will when she saw him, but that fear was assuaged when she noticed him at the bar. He spotted her as she wove through the closely situated tables, a bright smile lighting up his handsome face.

He stood when she reached him, murmuring a “Great to see you” as he embraced her casually.

Quinn returned the brief hug before replying, “You too. Have you been here long?”

“No, not too long. They don't take reservations, so I wanted to get here a little early to get a table.
Then
they tell me that they won't seat me until the rest of my party arrives.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, a smile playing on his lips.

“Sorry” was on the tip of Quinn's tongue, but before she uttered it, she remembered what Tim had told her. “Well, here I am,” she said instead.

“Here you are indeed,” Will said quietly, his eyes gazing softly into hers.

If life operated in accordance with romantic comedies, that look would have been a
moment
between the two of them. Quinn's mind would have flashed with visions of her future with Will: their cozy Cape Cod home filled with the laughter of their two-point-five children as they playfully chased the family's doting Labrador retriever around the two-acre plot their house was nestled upon. There would be Sunday brunches at the country club and yearly trips to Martha's Vineyard. Life would be just swell. Except Quinn didn't think any of those things. No, all she thought was how she wished it were a familiar pair of green eyes looking at her instead.

And that's when Quinn knew the date was over. She didn't leave, but her emotional bags were packed and waiting for her by the door. Because while Quinn hadn't had a moment at the bar with Will, she'd had quite a reckoning with herself. Even though she'd known she had feelings for Tim pretty much since she met him, she hadn't realized they were so strong that she'd completely check out on an eligible bachelor who was both attentive and interesting. Well, at least she
assumed
he was interesting. Despite her best efforts, she caught only about every third word he said all evening. And she didn't even feel particularly bad about it.
God, I really
have
changed.

Quinn wanted Tim, not the investment whatever in front of her who probably made more a year than she'd make her entire career. It was why Quinn hadn't been excited about the date in the first place. Why she hadn't so much as thought about dating since she'd started this project with Tim. She had a fleeting thought about how Tim had ruined her for all other men, but that felt a tad too dramatic, even for Quinn. In the moment, though, it was the truth. She had no interest in Will, only superficial attraction, and no desire to see him again. It was the best night of her whole goddamn life.

•   •   •

It took Tim approximately ten minutes to realize he was pacing. Granted he was covering substantial ground, traversing every square foot of his apartment, but it still was what it was: fucking pacing. He hadn't been this restless since the first symptoms of withdrawal more than seven years ago. And he knew why: because he was fucking pathetic.

The feelings coursing through him were new, and Tim hated every last one of them. He didn't
pine
for women. He didn't rack his brain for excuses he could give if he staged a “coincidental” run-in. He didn't
need
people like he needed his next goddamn breath.

And that's the thought that finally stopped his feet from moving. Of course Tim realized that he did rely on people to be there for him: Scott, Roger, the boys. But did he
need
them
?
The answer shocked him. No, he didn't. He wanted them in his life for sure, but he'd come far enough in his struggles to know that he'd be okay without them. He'd get by. But Quinn? His fucking chest constricted just thinking about not having her around. She made him happy, made him better, made him somebody.

But what she didn't make him was worthy. It wasn't the first time he'd forced himself to swallow that bitter pill, and it wouldn't be the last.

Tim had accepted that truth. He'd had to in order to remain sober. He wasn't special; he wasn't extraordinary. And he'd learned to be okay with that. But Quinn
was
those things. He couldn't let her settle for anything less than spectacular. So if that meant that he had to set her up with preppy investors, then that's what he'd do. Even if it fucking killed him.

Finally forcing himself to sit on the couch and stare at the TV, Tim started to relax. Or at least settle himself down from the frenzy. This could be his role in Quinn's life: to point her in the right direction, toward a guy who would be good for her. It would be something he could be proud of, a single good deed that might possibly right some of his wrongs. Yeah, he could do that. A gentle calm washed over him as he accepted his fate.

Until his phone dinged with an incoming text.
Thank God that's over. Hope your night was better than mine.

Tim was trying to keep his mind from focusing on the fact that it was nearly impossible to have dinner and get laid by eight forty-five when his phone sounded with another message.

And stop being a crotchety old man and call me sometime :)

With a resigned sigh tinged with a flurry of relief, Tim typed in the number that he'd, at some point, needlessly come to know by heart. And when he heard the greeting from the familiar voice, he settled into the couch. “Tell me all about it.”

Deglaze

Quinn hadn't heard Tim's voice in days, and until the deep, gravelly sound vibrated her eardrum, she hadn't realized how much she'd missed it.

“Will's nice enough. And funny.”
At least when I was paying attention.

“So why don't you like him?”

He's not you.
The words almost rolled off Quinn's tongue as easily as they'd popped into her head, but luckily she had the restraint to keep them in her mind where they belonged. If Tim was interested in how her date had gone, then he probably wasn't interested in
her.
“I don't know. You know when you just have an instant connection with someone? Like you look at them and you don't care if they're the only person you ever see for the rest of your life?”

Tim cleared his throat. “I think so.”

“Well, I don't have that with
Will
.” She heard herself emphasize his name unintentionally, and she waited to see if Tim would ask her who she did have that with. In an instant, she pictured their conversation playing out like a scene from one of those TV shows where all the characters' problems were neatly wrapped up in one half-hour episode.
Cue the corny music while Tim and I profess our undying love for each other.

“That's a shame,” Tim said after what seemed like way too long for such a generic response.

Quinn was thankful they were on the phone so she didn't have to hide the disappointment that was surely written on her face. “Yeah, it is.”

•   •   •

Despite the fact that, after their conversation, Quinn initially felt some tension between them—though she had a feeling much of it was sexual—things with Tim progressed much as they always had for the next week or so: running, a bite to eat here or there, random texts, and the occasional phone call. And she was thankful for the comfort it provided. If she couldn't have Tim the way she wanted, she was happy to keep him as a friend. It was . . . normal.

But what wasn't normal was the fact that Tim hadn't mentioned the last task on the list. She wasn't sure if he was actively avoiding discussing posing nude or if he just hadn't thought to bring it up. In either case, letting such a terrifying experience loom over her indefinitely had the same effect as standing at the edge of an airplane door ten thousand feet in the air wondering if her parachute was going to open. Eventually she'd just have to jump or somebody was going to push her. And she knew that Tim would be there to push her eventually.

“So listen,” Quinn said in between breaths as they jogged past an outdoor café. “I went on Craigslist the other day and found someone who's looking for nude models for an art class he teaches on Wednesdays.”

Tim's gaze shot toward her. “I'm impressed. I figured that one would take far more convincing. But Craigslist? Really?”

Quinn rolled her eyes and laughed. “It's legit. I went by his studio the other day and talked to him about it. He was finishing up a class when I got there.”

“We'll see,” he said, extending the last word as if he wasn't a hundred percent sold. “It's a good thing I have off on Wednesdays so I can be sure this doesn't involve fishing line, roofies, and you locked in some old dude's basement.”

“It
is
a good thing you have off on Wednesdays,” Quinn replied, trying like hell to contain the sly grin she felt surfacing, “because you'll be locked in the basement
with
me. I signed you up too.” Before Tim could speak, Quinn sprinted ahead of him, turning around in time to catch his jaw nearly hitting the sidewalk as he slowed to almost a complete stop. “Come on. You'd better pick up the pace a little if you're going to call
other
people old.”

•   •   •

Tim spent the next few days mentally preparing himself for his debut, so to speak. It's not that he was shy. Far from it. It's just that when he'd imagined Quinn posing nude for an audience, Tim thought he'd be part of that audience, not part of the show. His feelings alternated between excitement and complete anxiety. On the one hand, he'd get to see Quinn without any clothes on—something he'd thought about more times than he'd like to admit. But unlike in his fantasies, this experience would be entirely different. How was he supposed to sit there only a few feet from Quinn's naked body and
not
get turned on?

This would take an incredible amount of self-control. And though his past had given him plenty of practice with that virtue, something told him that his vices would ultimately win this battle. His only hope was that she would be so concerned with her own nudity that she wouldn't notice his.
Yeah fucking right.

Wednesday afternoon came quicker than Tim did when he jerked off for the third time that day. He'd tried not getting hard when he pictured Quinn naked—an impossible feat. There weren't enough cold showers in the world to keep his cock from jumping at even the slightest thought of Quinn's soft skin and . . .
Fuck!
He figured he'd go with the
There's Something About Mary
method and hope for the best. Maybe “cleaning the pipes” a few times would lessen the chance of him sporting wood like a horny teenager.

But as he stepped out of his apartment to leave for the art studio, the only thing he could take comfort in was the fact that he was certain he didn't have any of his own semen in his hair. He'd checked four times.

•   •   •

As Tim wandered through the large industrial space, taking note of the vivid watercolors and black-and-gray sketches, he had to admit it was a real art studio.
Damn.

“Back here,” someone yelled in a thick Irish accent. Tim had no idea how the guy even knew he had entered. There were no bells on the door or anything. A dark-haired man emerged from behind a large drop cloth that was hanging on a clothesline to dry. He couldn't have been older than thirty.

Tim laughed to himself. If one of them was the old man, it was definitely Tim.

“I'm Niall,” the man said, extending his hand. “You must be our male model for tonight.”

“I must be,” Tim said. “What gave it away?”

“Your tattoos and apprehension,” he joked. “Quinn told me a little about you.”

“Yeah, uh . . . I've never . . .
We've
never done anything like this before.” Tim glanced around, trying to see past the easels Niall was preparing with drawing paper and pencils. “Is Quinn here?”

“Down the hall to the left,” he said, nodding his head toward the back hallway. “There's a robe hanging for you in the bathroom where you can get undressed.”

Tim hesitated a moment. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Don't worry, buddy. With that beautiful redhead back there, I don't think you have to worry about too many people looking at
you
.” Then Niall winked and moved toward the front of the studio, leaving Tim to go back to the room where that beautiful redhead waited in nothing but a robe. And the prospect that everyone would be looking at Quinn's naked body and not his own did nothing to ease his nerves.
Fuck.
The thought of all of that exposed skin so close to him, near enough that he could run his hands all over her body, feel the goose bumps that would spread over her, made his cock start to harden as he entered the bathroom to put on his robe. Images of other things they could do nude, with or without an audience, were enough to force him to firmly grasp the base of his shaft and hope that he could get himself under control before he actually saw Quinn. He exited the bathroom, grateful for the seclusion the hallway provided as he stood before the closed door that separated him from Quinn. A few deep breaths later and he had managed to quell his rising hard-on.
I can do this.

•   •   •

As Quinn sat on the sofa in the small office of Niall's studio, she was surprised at how relaxed she felt. She no longer worried about people staring at her. She had accepted that fact weeks ago. It was the also-naked nonstranger who would be in the room with her that caused goose bumps to cover her skin at the thought.

At the time, it had seemed like a better idea to have Tim pose with her. She wouldn't be as “on display” as she would have felt if he were in the audience. Until today, it hadn't really sunken in that she'd have to see
Tim
with no clothes on. But there was no turning back.

Especially since Tim had just entered, the light hairs on his colorful chest peeking out from under his robe. They exchanged awkward I'm-about-to-see-you-naked hellos and were silent for a few moments before Tim spoke again. “This'll be easy.”

Quinn lifted her eyebrows. “Are you telling me or yourself?”

Tim laughed gently. “Uh, probably a little of both.”

Quinn exhaled a deep breath. “At least it's not just me.” Though she had been relatively calm, seeing Tim with only one loose layer of clothing on brought a surge of adrenaline through her entire body. “I'm starting to freak out a little.”

“Well, you could've fooled me. You hide your feelings well.”

“Yeah,” Quinn said softly, thinking Tim had no idea just how right he was.

A while later, Niall knocked and said the artists were ready for them. They stood, Quinn smoothing her robe and adjusting the belt.

The corner of Tim's lip quirked up playfully. “You know that thing's coming off in a few minutes anyway, right?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, shaking her head. The nerves she hadn't felt earlier at the prospect of people seeing her naked now hit with full force as she walked down the hall.

Niall escorted Tim and Quinn past the students, ushering them toward a chair and small black couch at the front of the room. When Niall had discussed the details with her, he'd said that he would like four poses between the two of them: standing, sitting, semi-reclining, and prone. He'd said it was up to her and Tim to decide who would be responsible for what. However, though she'd notified Tim of the requirements, the two had never actually discussed the specifics of who would do which pose. And now they stood, about to disrobe in front of close to ten people, with no idea what to do next.

“Um, I can stand,” Tim whispered in Quinn's ear, probably knowing that that position would be the most exposed. “Which one would you like to do first?”

Quinn looked at the firm black couch behind her. “I'll sit down, I guess.”

When neither of them moved to undress, Niall prompted them from the side of the room. “Whenever the two of you are ready.”

“Right,” Tim said, as he brought his hands toward the belt of his white robe.

Quinn was momentarily frozen as her eyes fixated on his long fingers pulling at the knot until the robe hung slightly open. Then he carefully shrugged it off his shoulders and tossed it on the coatrack nearby.

Niall nodded toward Quinn, urging her to do the same.
It's now or never,
she thought to herself. Though the latter definitely seemed like the better option.

“You sure you're okay to do this?” Tim asked as he moved to face her.

Quinn nodded, but she stayed stock-still. Though she was certain she
wanted
to do this, she wasn't certain that she
could
. As if he could read her mind, Tim reached for her belt, tugging on it gently as he pulled the knot loose. Neither one took their eyes off the other's as Tim opened her robe enough to slide the fabric down her shoulders, dragging his thumbs down her skin softly. This time he let the garment fall to the floor, leaving his firm hands lightly grasping Quinn's biceps. He gave her a nod—one that felt full of pride and encouragement—and moved toward her side, gesturing to the sofa for her to have a seat.

Quinn followed his silent direction, suddenly no longer fearful or embarrassed. The two of them had jumped out of the metaphorical plane and were falling through the sky in tandem. Tim moved to stand to the side, a few feet in front of the couch. And this time, Quinn couldn't help but let her gaze wander as it followed the movement of his body—his strong legs and the taut muscles of his ass carrying him a few feet away from her.

She wiggled briefly on the cushions until she found a comfortable position and then let herself relax against the back and armrest. Crossing her legs, she brought her hand up to her chin and let her index finger drape over her bottom lip as she studied Tim's solid form.

Tim turned his head and looked over his shoulder just enough to catch Quinn's gaze as she brought it up to meet his.

“Perfect,” Niall said. “Don't move a muscle.”

And they didn't. There they stayed for several minutes, their bodies locked in place and their eyes boring into each other's. In that moment, Quinn felt it: the physical attraction, the connection, the intimacy that had always been present between them. All of it was undeniable now.

At least to her.