On Paper (30 page)

"LET'S GO OUT
to a club or something," Miles said. He was pacing the floor, bored and anxious. We'd been at the signing table most of the day and I was exhausted. I wanted to go upstairs, take a shower, drink a beer, and call Quinn.

"Dude, I'm tired," I said

"You're tired?
Dude
what's wrong with you? You are so whipped. I never thought I'd see the day that Keaton Harris would turn down a night out to call his girlfriend." Miles was always giving me shit about Quinn, but it was all in good fun. Honestly, I think he liked seeing me in a grown up relationship.

"Shut it, asshole," I warned.

"Hitting a little too close to home, loverboy?" he pushed.

"You afraid you can't pick up the ladies on your own?" I pushed back.

"Right. Like you even have any game left. All you've done is mope around cause she didn't come with you," he pointed out. I thought about that for a second. I had been irritable. I’d begged her to meet me here this weekend, but she’d had some meeting she couldn’t miss. So it was just me and Miles. I wasn't having much fun either and I always had fun. Had I really become that guy who couldn't go out and have a good time without his girl around? Had I become that pathetic?

Miles must have seen the panicked look on my face because he started to back track. Truth is he liked Quinn a lot. "I'm jerking your chain," he said.

No, he was right. This was the problem with relationships. You lose yourself. You give up who you were to be a
we
. Once you become the
we
you remain a solid
we
forever. Shit, I'd become a
we
.

Just because I was with Quinn didn't mean I had to shut myself up in my hotel room. I didn't have to stop having fun because she wasn't around.

"Let's go out," I said, feeling energized at my revelation.

You're sure about this? Do you want to call and check in first?" he teased. I hated my brother.

"I'm a grown man. I don’t have to check in with anyone. Let's go."

Miles chuckled, "Whatever you say, boss."

WHEN TWO PEOPLE
decide to start living outside of their comfort zones there are bound to be hiccups. Pair that with trying to do it all with thousands of miles between you and it can be even more complicated. I liked to think that we were navigating our way through it pretty nicely.

I was learning his quirks and he was learning mine. I knew when he got moody and quiet that it was best not to push. He knew when I got moody and quiet he needed to do the opposite. It was all about learning to find the balance and taking the time to learn each other. I was learning to jump and he was learning to hold on. We were opposite ends of the spectrum trying to work our way to middle ground.

It was worth it.

The way he made me feel made it all worth it.

It was new and exciting.

It was also fragile.

A lesson I learned when I glanced at my phone one morning. Keaton was at a big book signing in Vancouver. He'd wanted me to meet him there. He'd begged me and then turned quiet and irritable when I'd refused. He didn't get it, I had my internship and that internship was getting me closer to New York. Closer to him. Maybe he did get it, but he didn't care. When I told him no, he hadn't spoken to me for 24 hours.

But in the end he'd settled down. I had a trip planned, one that included an interview for a real job in New York. It was a huge deal. And we’d both agreed that was the ultimate goal.

Then I saw the photo.

I’ve never been a jealous person. At least I’d never been a jealous person before Keaton. It didn't bother me to see him posing with girls or having a good time. It only made me sad not to be there with him. I hated missing it, but it didn't make me worry about us. Even knowing his past, I felt confident in where we were now.

Until I woke up and saw the photo of him in a hotel bar, a line of shot glasses on the table in front of him and a scantily clad brunette sitting in his lap.

I’d stared at it, a mix of emotions coursing through me. Even if it wasn't what it looked like, even if it was innocent and there was a perfectly good reason for his face being pressed into her chest, it still made me feel a rush of hurt and anger.

He hadn't called the night before and now I guess I knew why.

I glanced over at the clock; it was early, just after eight. It was even earlier in Vancouver. I should let it go for now. I should cool off before I called him.

I was never good with waiting.

I pulled up the photo with the list of comments underneath, saved the link and then texted it to him. I didn't need to add anything. If he knew anything about me, he'd know exactly what I was saying.

I STARED DOWN
at my phone and saw the text from Quinn. It was a link to the story that Miles had shown me earlier. Sometimes I really hated the internet.

Last night had been a bad idea. I realized that now. I should have just stayed upstairs like I'd planned.

I blamed Miles. Miles and his stupid fucking mouth.

We'd been having fun and drinking, it had been completely innocent. I hadn't given any thought to the girls that were hanging out at our table, not at all. I hadn’t given any thought to the amount of tequila I had consumed either. It had been a long lonely weekend and I had been missing Quinn. So I was drowning my sorrows because she wasn’t with me.

Honest. That's what happened.

But the picture and the caption that some random Instagrammer had tagged me in seemed to show a whole different side to things. Even I could look at the picture, as she hugged me to her, pushing my face against her boobs, and know it looked shady. The fact that I was laughing my ass off like a drunken asshole didn't really make it any better.

Yeah, last night had been a bad idea. It had been just like any other night after a long weekend. And that was the problem. It was just like any other night . . . girls, tequila and watching the sun come up. Granted I hadn't taken anyone upstairs with me or done anything with anyone, hadn't even thought about it, but the evidence didn't show that.

Quinn didn’t know that.

All she had was a photograph and my bad reputation.

I stared at the unanswered text with a stomach full of stones. I needed to explain it to her, but I feared my words would just come out empty.

"What's wrong with you?" Miles asked as he shuffled into the room and fell onto the couch.

"Quinn is asking me about those pictures and I don't know what to say," I admitted.

"Is she pissed?"

I shrugged, "Probably. She hasn't really said anything. She just sent me the link. She probably wants me to hang myself by speaking first," I groaned. This would be a fight. I couldn't blame her for being angry really, but my head was pounding and I just wasn't in the mood to deal with it yet. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe it was my tried and true reputation digging its feet in and refusing to answer to anybody.

Whatever it was, it was leaving me irritated. I grumbled and grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge and shuffled back to my room.

I needed to text her. No, I needed to call her. I needed to man up and face it. Shit, I didn't want to deal with it. Not yet anyway. I downed the bottle of water, but it did nothing to hydrate me. I hadn't been that drunk in a long time. I was getting too old for this shit. I lay back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. At least it wasn't spinning anymore.

I hadn't done anything with those girls. I hadn't wanted anyone else since Quinn had come along. But shit if she was going to believe any of that. It wouldn't matter what I said. I'd let her down and she was going to let me know about it. I felt myself bracing for the fight, dread filling me.

I should just get it over with. Face the music, pay the piper. I groaned, sat up against the headboard and grabbed my laptop. Might as well do this face-to-face. Maybe if she saw my face, she'd be more willing to believe me.

I opened up Skype, hitting connect next to the picture of her pretty face and holding my breath as I waited for her face to pop up on my screen. When she came into view the knots in my stomach began to twist and I started to rethink my decision to have this conversation so soon after waking up. I wasn't in the mood for this fight. I wasn't in the mood to explain myself or listen to her tell me what I fuck up I was. I already knew all that and my head was pounding.

"So I'm guessing you’re mad," I started. Even I could hear the clip in my voice, already on the defensive for whatever she was going to throw at me.

She tilted her head in that way she did when she couldn't believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. I usually thought it was cute. Today, not so much. "Before you start, it's not at all what it looked like in those pictures," I said.

"So you weren't drunk in a bar with lots of scantily clad women hanging all over you last night? That wasn't your face rubbing against that woman's tits?" she asked levelly. I hated how calm her voice sounded.

I rolled my eyes and heard her huff in frustration. “Nothing happened," I said.

"Keaton, you can't tell me you don't understand why I'm upset," she said softly.

I did understand why she was upset, but I didn't want to get into it. Did that make me an insensitive asshole? Probably. I wasn't in the right mood to care.

"Can we not turn this into a big deal, Quinn?" I asked.

"It is a big deal. It's a big deal to me, Keaton." She said my name like it tasted bitter on her lips. I preferred the way it fell out on a sigh, to be honest.

"I just mean that nothing happened. It was all very innocent. There is nothing to get worked up about," I said.

"I'm really sorry that my reaction isn’t working out to be convenient for you this morning," she said.

I sighed, this was going nowhere fast.

"Look, I don't want to fight about this right now. I'm calling to tell you that nothing happened. I wanted you to know. If you are going to berate me over it it's going to have to wait for another time because right now I need to get some sleep," I said.

"Oh yeah? Nursing quite the hangover aren't ya? Maybe you should have made better choices last night and this morning wouldn't be so rough," she said.

"Yeah, I could have lived without this conversation," I muttered.

"Wow," she said. It came out softly, but there was a whole lot waiting there under the surface. I sat up straighter in bed, adjusting the pillows behind me. When the laptop wobbled on my knees I steadied it with my hand, as I said, "That's not what I meant."

I looked back to the screen, but it had gone black, our connection lost.

Shit.

HE WAS GONE.
The connection ended. He’d hung up on me. Asshole. I sat there fuming as I stared at the blank screen where he'd been. It was probably for the best. The conversation was going nowhere. I was still angry and he was still defensive.

Honestly, I was hurt more than anything. Hurt that he'd put himself in that position and hadn't thought about my feelings. I realized that this had been a normal night out for him, but that was before. He'd told me that he wanted this to work, and for that to happen he had to try. This didn’t feel like he was trying.