Chapter 11
Quinn
The main event of the charity ball began after dinner, and although the food had been to die for, Quinn’s stomach continued to sour as the night went on.
August was ignoring him, which wouldn’t have bothered him any other time, but the fidgety, nervous energy he was bringing to the table was annoying.
Quinn was there to support Eren through this, but it was hard to keep his attention on the stage when the person sitting beside him wouldn’t stop moving.
The breaking point was when August knocked over Quinn’s empty glass of champagne, bumping the underside of the table with his ridiculously long legs in his haste to catch it, sending a loud clatter through the quiet room.
Quinn straightened the area and shoved into August’s space, keeping his voice at a whisper so no one overheard him. “Do you have fucking ants invading your anus right now? Sit the fuck still.”
It wasn’t his most eloquent line, but his words had an immediate effect on August, causing him to go motionless.
Quinn watched him until he was sure he wouldn’t move, and then he turned back around, shaking his head when Eren shot him a questioning look.
The peace only lasted for a count of thirty seconds before August abruptly stood, interrupting the woman who was giving the presentation again, and disappeared into the nearest corridor.
Eyes and whispers followed him, and Quinn felt a rush of second-hand embarrassment for the Bigfoot team. Eren moved to go after August, but Quinn grabbed his wrist and stopped him from getting up.
“I’ll go,” Quinn whispered. He left before Eren could argue, not wanting to ruin the presentation more than it already had been.
This night was part of Eren’s healing process, and Quinn wasn’t going to let anyone take that from him. Not even the tumultuous snowstorm that was August.
The corridor didn’t have any doors other than the ones that led to the kitchen and service rooms. But around the next corner was a sign for the bathroom, and Quinn knew exactly where the runaway hockey player had ended up.
Keeping a calm but stern mask in place, Quinn slipped into the men’s room and locked the door behind him. August was right where he expected him to be, leaning over the counter with the water running, his hair damp from brushing his wet fingers through it.
The sound of the lock clicking drew August’s attention, and Quinn met the icy blue of his eyes in the mirror. They didn’t speak. The only sound in the room was the rushing water, and the echo of August’s hard exhales of air through his nose.
“You didn’t have to come,” August said, roughly twisting the tap to shut the water off. “It’s not illegal to go to the bathroom, is it? How else was I supposed to remove the ants from my anus?”
Quinn flushed, mostly from anger because of the tone August was using. “I don’t know about the ants, but you might have to dig deeper to find the stick you seemed to have lodged up there, too.”
August let out a frustrated sound and raked his hands through his white hair, turning to glower at Quinn.
His white dress shirt was damp around the loosened collar, and his black tie was askew from tugging it out of the way.
With his hair slicked back and that dangerous stare pointed at him, Quinn thought he looked more like a mob boss than a goddamn puckhead.
“You’ve changed,” August rasped, his voice softening like he couldn’t hide his disbelief. “I didn’t recognize you until you were—”
Quinn waited for him to keep going, but when August clammed up, he knew he had to push.
“Until I was?”
August’s gaze flicked down and up, landing just below Quinn’s eyes. On his mouth.
Quinn bristled, and he knew exactly what had triggered this momentous discovery.
“You mean until I was on my knees, you fucking prick?”
August flinched, which was a good move because Quinn was two seconds away from tackling the cocky fucker into the nearest stall and drowning him in the toilet.
“It’s not like that,” August said, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. “It was the angle and the way you were glaring at me. Do you know how fucking different you look?”
Quinn was aware, yes. But if August had dyed his hair black and started wearing eyeliner, he still would have recognized him.
And if he didn’t know how spacy August could be, he would have felt a lot angrier than he was.
“I’m not dressed like a goth, and you dyed your hair white.
What’s your point?” Quinn folded his arms to fight off the chill of the room and ease his own anxiety.
“It’s not like you didn’t know what I actually looked like.
Esme and I were twins, so if you’d put two and two together, you would have realized that I’m a brunette. ”
August flinched again, but Quinn was on a roll now.
“Or did you forget what she looked like, too? That would be a shocking reveal since you were so desperate to fuck her that you were willing to settle for her brother just to—”
“Stop!” August held up his hand. “Enough, I can’t—”
Quinn’s brow furrowed as he watched August grip his own face, like he was suffering from a blinding headache that took away his ability to speak.
Admittedly, things had gotten out of hand, and Quinn was more than a little tipsy and not thinking straight, so he gave August a moment to recover.
He wasn’t usually this eager to verbally lash out, but seeing August again after so long had triggered his deeply buried trauma, and there wasn’t enough dirt in the world that could bury it.
August’s hand fell away from his pale face. He kept his gaze pointed downward as he continued to breathe through whatever episode he was having.
“I didn’t know she died. Esme.”
Quinn recoiled and stepped back, smacking into the door behind him. “You—how? She was married to your captain.”
“It doesn’t mean I would have seen her,” said August. “I avoided team shit whenever I could, so it’s not like I was over at their place often.
It’s like that with a lot of guys, it’s not like girlfriends and wives don’t matter, but we do our separate things, you know?
I must have looked at her, but I can’t remember talking to her other than the last time. ”
Quinn hugged himself tighter, praying he didn’t fall apart in front of this man.
“She tried to cheer me up and then sent Callahan after me for moping. I thought she was teasing me, but Callahan hasn’t dropped it since the season started, and now I know why he was so determined.”
Quinn was shaking by the time August tore his eyes away from the tile floor and looked at him.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me? You know I’m a fucking dumbass, but I wouldn’t have treated you the way I did had I known it was you and not some random stalker.”
“Why didn’t I talk to you?” Quinn pushed the words through his clenched teeth, jaw aching from the pressure. “You mean how you talked to me the night after I let you fuck me for the first time?”
There. He had said it.
There was no taking it back now.
But August was already shaking his head—already trying to deny it.
“You don’t remember?” Quinn asked, pushing against the door to make sure August couldn’t make a run for it.
“We went to prom—separately because you were a straight jock, and I was the artsy emo boy. My sister let you dance with her because she’d just found out we had been hooking up for the entire school year, and she wanted to make sure we all had fun.
You guys got to be prom king and queen and steal the night, and then you came back to my place, and—”
“No.”
“You laid me down on my bed, mapped every inch of my body, kissed my mouth and called me beautiful—”
“No.”
“Then you fucked me and told me that it had never been that way with anyone else. You told me I was special, and that you loved the taste of my cum, and how tight I was around your cock. And then you said you loved me—”
“No!”
The shout was loud in the empty room. August had squeezed his eyes shut, like he thought he could make Quinn disappear if he didn’t look at him—as if Quinn was a monster hiding under his bed.
“No?” Quinn’s dry laugh shook his shoulders. “What part are you saying no to?”
August blinked his eyes open, and the vulnerability that had been in his gaze moments before was gone. “I didn’t leave the table because I was upset about you, if that’s why you followed me. I was feeling like a shitty teammate, and I needed a second to breathe, okay?”
Quinn smirked as he watched invisible walls of denial rapidly build between them. But he was three glasses of champagne into the night and feeling bold, so he ignored the defiant frown August was showing him, and strode across the room.
He didn’t stop until the space separating them had narrowed into a millimetre gap, one that held endless possibilities for him to play with. Quinn’s smirk grew when August held his ground, stubbornly refusing to back down even though they both knew how badly he wanted to run.
His mouth was so close to August’s that he could feel his warm breath tickling him, and Quinn tilted his head, like he was teasing the larger man with an imminent kiss.
“It’s not about me, is it?” Quinn fluttered his lashes, the gesture more of a taunt than flirtation, though his pulse betrayed him, thudding rapidly when August’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I believe when you say you’re upset about Esme, but I don’t believe the part you said about me.”
He knew he was being petty. Cruel, even.
The words tasted bitter in his mouth, and all he wanted to do was spit them out.
Whatever pain August was feeling now couldn’t compare to waking up alone after giving your heart, body and trust to someone in the most intimate way, only for them to vanish like it had meant nothing.
And August said it himself, hadn’t he? He wasn’t grieving Esme; he was upset because he had been a shitty teammate to Eren. What Quinn was doing now was a small, mean revenge. The only kind he’d ever allow himself when it came to August.