On Paper (35 page)

I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN
what love looks like. I’ve never doubted its existence. My parents have the kind of love that people spend their lives searching for. It is the kind that people envy, the kind of relationship that people see from afar and say, “They are the lucky ones.” But even as a kid I knew better than to think that it had anything to do with luck.

I used to watch them from the barstool in the kitchen, listen when they thought I wasn’t paying attention, and I took it all in. Theirs was the first story I ever tried to uncover. And what I learned in all of those years of watching my parents was that love is about hard work. It’s about sacrifice and tough decisions. It’s give and take…and it’s mostly give.

You don’t get handed the fairytale. You work for it. Every single day you put in the time. You commit and sometimes that means giving up something you really wanted. Like the day I heard my dad turn down his dream job because he didn’t want to uproot his family and move us across the country. I listened to him tell my mother that we were his priority and that we were enough.

Imagine that.

It stuck with me. Because even then, as a fourteen year old kid, I knew I would have taken the job. I wasn’t going to give up anything for anybody. I had dreams and I was going to travel the world. At the time I thought that made me better than my dad. Now, it just makes me feel like an asshole.

The point is, I know what love is. I know what it takes. I know what the real life fairytale requires. And I know that Quinn was made for that life. I could write her into that scene a thousand times. She belongs there. She fits. She gives without thinking, she loves completely. It’s effortless for her.

The problem comes when I try to write myself into the same scene. I can’t do it. No matter how I twist it, it never quite fits. And I know why. I’ve always known why. It’s not my part to fill. I’m the guy you have fun with, the guy you get out of your system, that crazy thing you did once. I’m not the guy you fall in love with.

Only she says that she loves me. And God help me, I believe her.

How can three words feel so amazing and still suffocate me? Because I swear I haven’t taken a deep breath since she said them. My heart hasn’t steadied and my head is a mess.

She’s looking at me with patient eyes and I feel like I’m walking across broken glass.

I don’t know how to do this.

I’m not this guy.

This isn’t my story.

Fuck, I wish it was.

"ARE YOU READY
to go?" I called out. I was distracted. It felt as if my whole body held a constant vibration. My brain volleyed from constant analyzing to white noise.

The last thing I wanted to do was go to Parker's little party. She was constantly pushing me to do these things, telling me it was good to keep my connections pliable. I just felt like her show pony. On the other hand, it was a distraction from everything that hung between Quinn and me, from all of the things that I wasn't ready to confront just yet.

"I'm ready to go," she said, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked up to see her in the doorway of the bedroom. My breath caught, the way it always did when the sight of her surprised me. Her dress was pale pink, the skirt brushing across her toned legs. She gave me a shy smile and I contemplated taking her back to bed.

"You look amazing," I offered. She walked towards me and kissed my cheek.

"So do you."

I leaned in to kiss her. It was all that I could do. I craved her. It overtook everything else. When I held her close and kissed her I didn’t have to worry with the jumbled thoughts crowding my brain. I didn’t have to deal with the heaviness in my chest or figure out what any of it meant. I could just get lost in her for a moment, and take a breath.

I don’t know if she could feel the chaos I had beneath the surface, but I assumed she could. We were connected. She had become a part of fabric of who I was. I used to find that comforting, now it felt like a collar that was too tight.

We were quiet on the ride to the party. Quinn didn't push me to talk, she knew my head space was a mess and she was giving me time to work it out. I hated that my silence was probably causing her to doubt, but I was so grateful to her for allowing me the space. Her patience with me was more than I deserved. I rested my hand on her thigh, just under the material so that I could trace lines along her skin. I needed the connection; I needed something to ground me.

The cab pulled up to the party and I let out a heavy sigh. I didn't miss the concerned look that she gave me, she was worried about me. I gave her a reassuring smile, "We don't have to stay long. I'm mostly making an appearance to appease Parker. But you might meet some good people here," I offered.

"It'll be fun. Don't worry about me," she smiled.

I took her hand and led her into the restaurant where the party was being held. Quinn stuck close beside me as we moved into the crowd. As soon as we stepped in, I wanted to leave. I wasn't in the mood. I wasn’t even sure I could fake it. Quinn gave my hand a squeeze and it calmed me down.

After grabbing us a drink I pulled her from group to group introducing her to people. At the very least maybe she would make some good connections. Sometimes finding the right job was about knowing the right people. The right introduction could get her to New York to stay.

I was mid introduction when the direction of my thoughts took hold. Here I was freaking out about the L-bomb and I was practically moving her in. What the fuck was wrong with me? I was a complete fucking fraud. I felt my heart begin to pound erratically in my chest. I caught the worried look that Quinn flicked my way before jumping in and taking over the conversation.

"Are you okay?" she asked me quietly as we pulled ourselves away from the group.

"Yeah, I just got distracted," I mumbled.

"Keaton, there you are. I was starting to think that you weren't coming." Parker. She walked up, wearing sky high heels to match her red, skintight dress.

"Of course I came. You'd have my head if I didn’t," I forced a laugh and hoped no one noticed the sweat that had broken out across my forehead.

"It's about time you started to fear me," she smiled before turning her attention to Quinn.

"Quinn, this is my agent Parker. She's the one who is constantly busting my ass," I smiled. Quinn smiled and shook her hand as I continued the introduction, "And this is my friend, Quinn," I said. I felt her tense beside me and I couldn't even look at her. I could lie and say it was an accident, but I’d said it on purpose. I knew it had hurt her, especially after last night. I don't know why I'd said it. But for a moment it had felt good. Like for just a beat I had control.

I watched as Quinn and Parker shook hands. I didn't miss the once over that Parker gave her or the sideways glance she threw at me. Parker had known me a long time. I didn't have friends and I didn't introduce girls into my life. Quinn gave her a sweet smile, but I couldn't help but notice how it didn't quite reach her eyes; the fact driven home further when she looked at me with the same fake enthusiasm. I'd hurt her. It had been a dick move.

Parker and Quinn made small talk while I drank my beer. I barely heard them. I was too busy trying to figure out how I was going to explain myself to Quinn once we were alone. Parker excused herself and I reached down to take Quinn's hand. I needed another drink.

"Do you want some wine or something?" I asked, glancing around for the nearest bar. I stopped when she yanked her hand out of mine and glared up at me, anger mixing with the pain.

"What was that about?" she asked, her tone eerily calm.

"What was what?" I asked, pretending I didn't know what she meant, but I avoided her eyes because I knew she'd see straight through me.

"Don't pull that crap with me, Keaton. So, we're going to pull the friend card?"

"Sorry. Parker doesn't need to know my business," I said, hoping my nonchalant attitude would diffuse the situation.

"What's going on, Keaton? You've been acting weird all day," she said, her anger fading and her doubt taking over. "Is this about last night? I told you --."

I cut her off, giving her a big smile and pulling her close to me. "Last night was amazing. I'm sorry. Really. I'm just-- I didn't want to have to stand there and listen to all of her questions," I said.

Her eyes narrowed, studying me for the truth. She didn't believe me. I had known she wouldn't, but I watched her relax a little and I knew that she was going to give me a pass for now.

"Wine?" I asked again.

She gave me a small nod and I led her towards the bar, giving her hand a squeeze, one that I hoped would reassure her where my words and my actions couldn't. I just needed some time to wrap my head around it all.

Quinn settled in beside me as we mingled with the crowds and made small talk with strangers. She held onto my hand tightly, as if she was afraid to lose the connection, but to everyone else she appeared happy and friendly, making fast friends with everyone she met. But each time our eyes met I knew that we were only on borrowed time. She smiled up at me, but it never quite filled her eyes. I saw the hesitancy and doubt that was starting to settle in and I knew I needed to get her alone and try and take it away.

I still had no idea what I would say. I didn't even really know how I felt about everything, but I couldn't stand to see that look in her eyes. I couldn't handle the fact that I had hurt her by being so flippant and casual about everything.

I leaned down my mouth grazing her ear as I asked, "You ready to get out of here?" I could smell her faint perfume mixing with the shampoo she'd used this morning. I couldn't help but breathe it in.

She nodded, "Okay." I thought I saw her take a deep breath. As much as she wanted answers I wondered if she was as nervous as I was about what those answers might be.

I followed her into an empty elevator and moved in close to her as the doors closed behind me. She backed up to the wall and I slid my hand behind her neck, resting my forehead against hers. I felt her take in a breath and let it out slowly. Neither of us spoke, but the way we filled the same space stirred the air mixing up passion and questions.

The elevator car reached the bottom and I reluctantly stepped away. I grabbed her hand and led her out into the hotel lobby, pulling her against me as we walked towards the valet and waited for a cab.

"Are you cold?" I asked finally as we stood in the chilly night air.

She shook her head, "I'm okay." She offered me up a smile and I had to lean in and kiss her. The tension that had been between us all night was too much for me and I needed the connection.

I didn't try to start the conversation until we were in the apartment. Quinn had gone straight to the bedroom. I followed her, stopping in the doorway as she reached back to slide the zipper of her dress down, the pale pink material folding at the waist.

"Quinn," I started. Suddenly I was swallowing through sand, not even sure I could get the words out. She turned to look over her shoulder at me and I swear my heart stopped. I stepped towards her and she turned to face me. I slid the dress down her body as her eyes met and held mine. She put her hands on my shoulders and stepped out and away from the pool of fabric. She'd already kicked her shoes off and the lack of heels made her seem so small in front of me.

"I owe you an explanation," I said softly.

"Let's get ready for bed," she said. I let her unbutton each button of my shirt; she did so without hurry, her fingers brushing against my chest. When she reached the bottom she tugged the shirt from its hold and then pushed it off of my shoulders. She dropped it onto the floor next to her dress and then started unclasping my belt. I watched her work, kicking out of my pants once they hit the floor. Then she ran her hands under my white undershirt, across my heated skin, pushing up until it was over my head. I expected her to throw it on the pile with everything else, but instead she slid it over her head, letting it fall along her body where it brushed against her bare thighs. My gaze lingered.