Chapter 32 #2
Quinn’s voice became echoey as August’s exhausted mind tugged him closer to the edge of unconsciousness. He reached for Quinn, scared that he was falling too fast, and felt the heat from his thigh solid under his shaking fingers.
“No one that mattered,” said Quinn. “I was never able to get past what we had, even though I tried my best to forget you. Isn’t that ironic?”
It was. It was so fucking ironic that August couldn’t help but carry his smile into his dreams. And now that he had memories to pull those dreams from, it made the experience seem more like a cute romcom movie instead of a blank spot or patchy imagery.
High school Quinn had been cute, if a little feral. His sarcastic sense of humour had baffled August at every turn, which only made him more intriguing at the time.
“What’s up, Chuckles? Why are you always frowning? Did one of your hockey buddies refuse to give you skiing lessons again?”
August jerked his gaze from the pavement under the picnic table to meet Quinn Harlow’s glittering green eyes. He had no idea what the guy was talking about, but Esme’s stifled laughter didn’t bode well.
When the silence continued for longer than Quinn was willing to put up with, he let out an exasperated groan and dropped his hands to his sides.
August watched, with horrified fascination, as Quinn moved his hands like he could have been pushing himself with ski poles, but it really looked like—
“You think I’m grumpy because I didn’t ask two of my teammates for a circle jerk?” August asked. “Is that what we’re doing right now?”
Quinn rolled his eyes, but Esme’s laughter bubbled between them before her brother could think of any rude comeback.
“Quinn, don’t torment August. His face always looks like that.”
It did?
“I don’t know what we’re doing, actually,” said Quinn, bypassing Esme’s attempt to soften Quinn’s edges. “I’ve been trying to be a rebel and smoke weed on my lunch break for the last week, but he keeps showing up with his mopey frown and pouting at me until I put my joint away.”
Well, August couldn’t risk accidentally inhaling any of the smoke and getting high, if that was possible. If his coach did a random drug test, he would be—
“Why is he hanging out with us?” Quinn continued, pointing a finger at August so aggressively that he had to lean away to avoid having his eye poked.
“Doesn’t he have a wall to crash into or something? Why are you bringing your boyfriend to our hangouts?”
Esme and August locked eyes, but looking at her didn’t give him the weird tingling sensation he had been chasing all week. Her expression was too gentle and serene—nothing like the venomous viper sitting beside her, holding a lighter up like he was threatening to throw it at August’s head.
“Having a jock around us all the time is ruining our street cred, Esme. I asked Steven to come over today so we could play video games and chill, and he said he couldn’t be seen with me now that I had gone ‘to the dark side’.”
Esme sighed and elbowed her twin hard enough to make him gasp.
“Trust a theatre kid to be theatrical. Would you calm down? August lost friends after he apologized to you and stood up against their shitty behaviour. The least you could do is stop picking on him and offer a friendship handshake. Maybe he would be willing to take you to the gym so you can put muscle on those scrawny arms of yours.”
August had his own gym at his place, and he didn’t normally like the thought of working out with someone he barely knew, but if Quinn was with him…
Quinn’s shirt would eventually cling to his sweaty body, finally giving August a good view of what he looked like under all the baggy shirts and ripped jeans he wore.
They would have to get close if Quinn wanted to lift weights, and then August would have to touch his skin, and then he would know if it was as soft as it looked.
Yeah, he would like that, but—
Why?
Quinn’s huff of angry laughter brought August back to the real world, and he sat transfixed as the green-eyed menace glowered at him, like August was the cause of all his problems.
The tingling returned, sending his pulse racing as he swallowed back his fear and gave Quinn a cocky smirk that would drive anyone crazy.
“What’s wrong, Harlow? Scared you won’t be able to keep up with me?”
Laughter escaped August’s mouth as Quinn buckled him into the passenger seat. The hour nap hadn’t been nearly enough, and he was groggy as fuck, but he was in the car and ready for therapy.
He waved goodbye to Harrison as they backed out of the driveway, frowning when he remembered that the guy had a bad leg and was probably exhausted from standing in the kitchen all day.
August would have to thank him later and ask him to never do it again, because he didn’t want to hear Jett nag him for taking advantage of his husband.
“Why are you laughing?” Quinn asked once they were on the main street. “Did Harrison flip you off or something?”
It took August a minute to piece together how Quinn had arrived at that conclusion, which only made everything seem funnier.
“I had a dream about high school—the time when I followed you and Esme around silently begging to be friends instead of using words.”
He could hear the smile in Quinn’s voice when he said, “Oh?”
August leaned his face against the cold window to dull the throbbing in his temple. “You were such a vicious asshole, and thinking about how much I liked it when you were mean to me was what made me laugh.”
“Wow, that’s great,” said Quinn. “That doesn’t make me feel like a piece of shit at all.”
August sighed. “Did you not hear the part where I said I liked it?”
Quinn’s gaze drifted away from the road to glance at August. “That’s because you’re a borderline masochist, my dear.”
August pushed himself off the window and propped his elbow on Quinn’s armrest. “I prefer the other name you called me.”
He waited for Quinn to filter through the events of the last few hours and was delighted when his cheeks turned rosy.
“You mean when I called you baby during a very intense and scary moment?” Quinn grumbled, biting his lip.
August nodded, still smiling.
Quinn shot several looks at him as they drove through several intersections, and then he relented.
“You really are a submissive thing, aren’t you, baby boy?” Quinn said, the drawl in his tone giving August shivers.
The suggestion didn’t bother August because he had already discovered that part of himself after he agreed to let Quinn tie him up. What was there to be ashamed of? He trusted Quinn, and when he gave him control, it made him feel better.
Not in the same way his father took control—but even with that trauma engraved in him, he had still enjoyed submitting to someone who truly loved him.
Loved him.
Quinn had said he loved him. Not in those words exactly, but—
“Only for you,” said August. “I’m submissive only for you, Quinn.”
The admission earned him a smirk and a brush of fingers through his hair.
“Mine,” said Quinn.
Yes, he was.