Chapter 30
THIRTY
AUGUST
“Everyone thinks I’m a douchebag.”
At least ten different women scowled at me while we walked to our departure gate.
Quinn finishes buckling her seat belt before glancing up with an apologetic smile.
“Well, I know that you’re sweet and amazing and totally not a douche.”
“I guess that counts for something.”
She gives my shoulder a playful swat, but I notice when she sets her arm down on the armrest, there’s a quiver in her hand. Quinn is on a knife’s edge of panic, and the plane engines haven’t even rumbled to life yet.
I honestly don’t think she has a reason to worry. With minimal concentration, I continue to let the chill seep from my skin and settle over hers.
Leaning in close, I lower my voice to a whisper as other passengers shuffle by us. “The ice cream melted because I was distracted. I’m not distracted today. I swear, I won’t even let the temperature rise a couple of degrees.”
The Pyro’s only response is a tight-lipped smile and a nod.
“Is there anything I can do to help you calm down?”
She sighs, but the exasperation seems to be directed at herself. “You’re not supposed to be comforting me. I’m supposed to be comforting you.”
Focusing on keeping Quinn’s powers neutralized is doing a good job of taking my mind off my mom. Maybe focusing on my state of mind would be just as helpful to her.
“Okay, then comfort me. Talk to me.”
“About what?”
“Anything. How do you know Sammy? Thoughts of him aren’t going to … raise your heat levels. Are they?”
Before I have a moment to discern if I’m jealous, Quinn snorts. “Not likely.”
“Then he’s the perfect subject. Tell me how you know him, but you didn’t know Marisol.”
“I do know Marisol actually. Or I did. It was years ago though, so I completely forgot. I met her when she was younger. Just a little tyke, tottering around after her brother.”
I can envision that. A miniature Marisol demanding the attention of a surly, teenage Damien.
“Perfect. This is the story I want to hear.” Settling back into my seat, I’m thankful that despite my last-minute booking, I was able to snag two spots in the emergency exit aisle. Sitting anywhere else is always hell on my long legs.
Quinn takes a deep breath, and from the corner of my eye, I notice her fingers loosen, just slightly, from their white-knuckled death grip.
“We grew up next to a Squid family. The Aguados. Do you know them?”
My knee-jerk reaction is to glance around warily, trying to see if anyone is listening in on our conversation.
When I was young, my parents drilled into me that I couldn’t talk about my powers in public.
They were worried—and rightly so—that if people found out, I’d become some freak of nature the government would insist on studying.
Probably the worst fear of any Elemental parent, especially now, in the age of smartphones and security cameras.
But Quinn, despite her agitation, doesn’t even lower her voice.
Trying my best to cover my initial discomfort, I simply shake my head.
“Yeah, I don’t think they’re related to Sammy or Marisol.
Just another family like us that moved to town and was able to get in touch with some of their own.
” She’s talking about our fellow Elementals on a plane full of humans, and she doesn’t show an ounce of hesitation.
She’s completely mastered the art of speaking about the dual worlds without giving any indication that what she’s saying might be odd.
Her confidence soothes my nerves, and I realize just how tightly wound constantly hiding this important piece of my life has made me.
Since moving to Phoenix, I’ve never been so open.
Unaware of the revelations in my head, Quinn keeps on with her story.
“So, the Aguados—which was really just Ms. Aguado and her son, Rafael—were one of those neighborhood families you get super close with. Rafael was my age, but he and Cat always got along better. Our moms were best friends. Marisol and Damien visited the Aguados a couple of times, but Damien was, like, four years older, and Marisol was still in diapers, so it wasn’t a prime my kids play with your kids situation.
I guess that’s why I barely saw them when I was growing up.
Then high school came around, and that’s when Rafael met Sammy, and they started hanging out.
There were a couple of others in their group too.
You know, Squids stick with Squids or whatever.
They had some wild parties, and I’m pretty sure Damien was their beer supplier. ”
“Did you ever go?”
The idea of having a large enough group of friends to throw a party in high school has me envious.
In my teenage years, I tended to be a loner.
Back then, I had less control over the chill.
I don’t think my peers were aware that I was the source of the cold, but they must have picked up on the fact that whenever they stood close to me, they were uncomfortable.
“Go to the parties?” Quinn shrugs. “Maybe one. But Cat and Rafael weren’t hanging out anymore, and I was always worried if I developed a crush on a guy, things might escalate”—she makes a motion with her hands as if they’re little flames—“at a party.”
The plane starts to move, slowly rolling toward the runway. Trying not to be too obvious, I eye Quinn to gauge if her nerves ratchet up at the knowledge we’re about to take off. But she seems too tied up in our conversation to take any real notice.
“If you didn’t party with them, when did you and Sammy start dating?” I ask.
“Oh goddess. Please don’t call it dating.” Quinn leaves me hanging on that, going quiet as the flight attendant talks through safety procedures.
With my Pyro’s focus back on the flight, I watch as her fingers curl into fists and her lips tighten in one straight line.
Not sure if the safety announcements just distracted Quinn from my distraction or if she’s actually intent on hearing everything said, I keep quiet until the woman in her navy uniform finishes pointing out all the exits.
The engines rumble, then roar, and we speed forward. Quinn grips the armrests, knuckles white and straining. I can’t help myself. I place my hand over one of hers.
Her eyes fly to mine, wide and slightly panicked.
“If it wasn’t dating, what would you call it?” Pitching my voice slightly louder to be heard over the engines, I continue like nothing in our surroundings has changed.
She flinches at my question, but not as though she’s offended or hurt by it. More like she’s jerked back into our conversation without realizing she could be focused on anything else in this situation.
“Oh, uh … hooking up. Well, a hookup. Just once.”
“You didn’t want to date him?”
Quinn shakes her head, red ponytail swishing with the movement. “When I finished college, still a virgin, I decided a new tactic was needed. Specifically finding a partner who could handle my needs. Sammy fit the bill, and he was single and willing.”
I’m sure he was.
“You all kept in touch after high school?”
“Oh, no. It’s not like we were friends or anything. But our crowd tends to cross paths. I was saying hi to Cat at one of her jobs, and he happened to be there. We talked for a bit, it led to more, and the next morning, I never felt any need to repeat the experience.”
Is that a smugness I feel?
“Wow. Blow to Sammy’s ego.”
“Sorry.” Her smile is rueful. “This must sound like I’m insulting your cousin. He can be cocky and annoying, but I don’t actually dislike him or anything. He has his moments.”
“Yeah. Sammy is a particular flavor everyone around him needs to get accustomed to. I look forward to the day when he grows up. At least a little bit.”
“If only we had an idea of when that would be. I’d mark my calendar and throw a party.”
We share a grin as the plane levels out. Quinn seems to have relaxed. I guess Sammy really is a mood dampener. I’ll have to thank him when I see him next. Though I’d doubt he’d react well if I specified why I was thankful.
A shiver quakes through her, and I worry I’ve overdone it.
“Are you too cold?”
She blinks up at me, surprise coloring her hazel gaze.
She lifts one arm, then her other, examining the raised hairs and goose bumps.
I love how her freckles cover more than just her face, continuing their sprinkled pattern all over her body.
The sight—and my yearning to kiss each one—makes it easy to keep up a continuous chill.
“No.” Quinn laughs, a thankfulness shining from her eyes and filling my chest with pride at my ability to keep her at ease.
“I’m perfect. In fact—” A huge yawn takes over her face, practically cracking her jaw.
She ends with an adorable smack of her lips, and I watch her eyelids droop.
“I stressed myself out so much, now I’m exhausted. ”
“Here.” I unbuckle my seat belt and stand to rummage around in the overhead compartment, eventually finding the sweatshirt in my bag.
Back in my seat, I fold the soft cotton into a makeshift pillow.
“Lean on me,” I murmur, placing the cushion on my shoulder.
Quinn slowly blinks, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“I think you might be the perfect man,” she whispers as her head comes to rest on me.