17. Quinn
CHAPTER 17
QUINN
“ T ell me again why you and Ace had to have sex on the couch?” I gripe, planting myself on the carpet, bowl of popcorn balanced carefully in my hands. I cringe just thinking about it, how pale Ace’s ass was in comparison to the rest of his summer-tanned body. I’ve learned—against my will—that Ace loves to pamper himself. It had been his expensive shampoos and soap in the boys’ bathroom. One would think that with how much he enjoys taking care of himself, he would splurge for a full body tan instead. “Your room is five feet away for fuck’s sake!”
Now I have to live with the image of his full moon in my head forever.
Rory has the movie set up, paused on the title screen while I made the popcorn and gathered the drinks. The ominous font glows crimson, painting the living room in red light. It’s a horror movie the both of us had been wanting to see since we moved in, and since it’s finally October, we figured we should kick the month off with it.
After another busy week of classes, I asked Rory if she wanted to have a girl’s night because I’ve missed my best friend. She was immediately on board with the idea, gushing over face masks, wine, candy, and binge watching the list of movies we made on her phone.
We’ve been spending a lot of time with the boys next door lately and I can finally say that I don’t think Knox hates me anymore. He even laughed at one of my jokes at lunch the other day, though he seemed reluctant to admit I’m actually as funny as Rory claims I am.
The chocolate we picked up from the local grocery after class is already half eaten; tiny balls of tinfoil tossed in a haphazard garbage pile from where we’d both dug into the bag while we waited for the popcorn and set the movie up. We’re splitting the bottle of wine, maybe more if the ‘drink whenever someone makes a stupid decision’ rule we came up with is to be followed.
Rory tosses a pillow at me that I dodge it like it’s on fire. I’ve been avoiding the couch and anything that could have been on it while they were… canoodling for days, not even so much as sitting on the other side where Ace’s ass hadn’t been.
I don’t trust it.
“I was trying not to have sex with him until I figured my shit out, but,” Rory shrugs sheepishly. “I couldn’t resist. He’s so charming.” The way that a smile cracks her mouth without her knowledge tells me everything I need to know about her feelings on this new relationship with Ace. Her grin is glowing brighter than the damn screen!
I’m not at all jealous, I’m just really happy for my best friend who has now been in two relationships during our time in college. That’s two more than I’ve been in.
Nope, not jealous at all.
I hum in agreement, ignoring the twang in my chest. I’m familiar with that silver tongue of his, and I’d thought the same of him when he was trying to sweet talk his way into my favor at the art supply— not. Ace has gotten a lot better since we’d all gone to Tipsy Canvas.
I have to give it to him for his persistence. He’s proved he’s wanted to be more with Ro despite her worries about Max, and even my grouchiness hasn’t been able to scare him off.
I do wonder if he calls her Darling, too, or if that was reserved for the ones that came before.
“You’re an ‘us’ now?” My question is sincere, and I look at her over my shoulder when she reaches into my lap for some popcorn. Her cerulean eyes glow in the light from the TV and even without the sinister crimson pouring from the screen, I know just how pink her cheeks are.
Rory brushes her dark hair over her shoulder, blowing the shorter strands that keep falling in her face away. I bite back my laugh when I remember how bad they looked at the beginning of summer.
I’ll never stop reminding her of it.
“I think I might be starting to see where things could go with him.”
I squeal because I really can’t help myself. Rory looks shocked for all of two seconds before she’s screaming along with me. Seeing her so giddy over a guy is contagious. I haven’t seen her like this since she first gushed about Max asking her out last year. Rory had fallen hard and fast for the hotshot quarterback from Vulcan’s team. He’d broken her heart by the end of the year and Rory hasn’t really been the same since.
Getting revenge on him and his frat helped a little, though .
“Is he hung?” I blurt and we stare at each other before we’re both falling into a fit of laughter until Rory manages to calm herself enough to smirk over at me.
“Didn’t you see it when you walked in on us? You tell me.”
“Ew, no! I only saw his ass,” I scrunch my nose, tossing a piece of popcorn into my mouth. The buttery goodness nearly makes me moan. “Which, I must say, is not that impressive.”
I reach for a chocolate, unwrapping the foil with a crinkle. It melts against my tongue and I pair the sweetness with a sip of wine.
“Not as impressive as, say, a certain roommate with an affinity for parking like shit’s ass?” Rory teases and I groan, tossing a handful of popcorn her way. There’s already who knows what kind of fluids staining the fabric, what’s a little popcorn to go along with it?
“Slate’s ass is quite nice, you already know that,” I sigh dreamily, trying my best to distract her from conversation surrounding Knox. I so do not want to be talking about him or his ass right now, not when I’m so unsure of my feelings about him. The look on his face when he saw me studying with Odie is still fresh in my mind. His confusion turned into what I can only call jealousy. We’re supposed to be having a peaceful night. “And I don’t think Slate’s parking is that bad, Ro. It’s questionable at best.”
Rory takes the bait, agreeing with a pleasant hum, settling into the couch. She tucks an arm behind her head, posing exactly like Slate had during the time he’d modeled for our class. “So biteable, and he’s hung as fuck. Any girl would be lucky to have him.”
It’s true. His cock is huge.
Snorting, I reach for the remote. “If she can put up with all of his dirty jokes. ”
“You’re damn right about that,” Rory says, then joins me on the floor as I press play.
The treats run out long before the movie is over.
An empty bottle of wine stuffed with the balled-up wrappers from our treats sit on the coffee table and I’m beginning to regret playing this little game because the wine is only making me more terrified of everything that jumps out at us.
I’d given in and risen from my spot on the floor with the irrational fear that some monstrous creature’s claws would creep out from underneath the couch and snatch me up. Rory had been the first to cower into a ball on the futon, blanket pulled up to her shoulders. I’m surprised she’s even watching the movie still, but the half full glass of wine she had has been abandoned.
I sit on my own blanket as far away from where I’d seen her and Ace’s sexual activities as I can, and I’m wondering now out of all of the moments, while the victim hides beneath her bed, why we thought a horror movie would be the best genre to watch tonight.
Holding my breath, the murderer stalks down the pitch-black halls of the house on the screen. He’s already killed three of the five group members in the most gruesome of ways, and I know that she’s the next to go because it’s obvious to everyone but her that she can totally be seen in her hiding spot under the bed.
“I can’t watch, I can’t watch,” Rory complains, but a quick glance to my side shows that her blanket sits just over the bridge of her nose, her eyes wide with horror and glued to the screen in anticipation .
The killer enters the room, stalking on silent feet, and just as he leans down for the jump-scare of a lifetime, there’s pounding at our door.
Neither of us can contain our shrill screams. Rory almost jumps out of her skin, launching herself across the couch to clutch at me like a terrified child. I’m faring no better, my heart pounding so hard in my chest that my head goes dizzy with it.
It takes me a few harsh breaths to realize what the sound is, only because the knocking becomes more urgent with our screams.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, lunging for the remote as the girl gets dragged out from under her bed. Her screams have nothing on the ones Rory and I just let out. Pausing the movie, I notice the bass blasting through the walls as I make my way to the door.
Rory stumbles up from the couch, stopping me with a firm hand on my arm. “What if it’s the killer?”
I know she’s somewhat joking, the small lift to her lips tells me that she knows it simply can’t be, but I’m wearier than I’d like when I twist the knob.
I have an inkling of who it might be on the other side, but I check the peephole before I do anything else, groaning when I see who it is.
Slate stands on the other side, brows furrowed in concern. “Are you ladies alright? I heard screaming.”
“Yes,” I huff, frustrated. “Because of you, Slate.”
Stepping aside, I allow him to enter the apartment. Rory’s already settled back onto the couch, all of the fear fallen from her shoulders as she’s now engrossed in something on her phone. Or someone, if her shit-eating grin is anything to go by .
“Neither of you answered my texts, so I came to see what all the screaming was,” Slate says easily, though when he sees what we’re watching his face lights up. “I can’t believe you’re watching Red Grave! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have definitely canceled this party to protect the both of you.” He’s distracted now, peering down into the popcorn bowl, frowning at its emptiness.
“Party?” Rory questions, and now she’s the one frowning. “Ace didn’t tell me you were having a party.”
“Well, maybe that’s because you weren’t answering your phone,” Slate sing-songs.
“Well, he could’ve been the one to come get us,” she responds with a pout. Her gaze is already glued back to her phone and I watch the way her eyes widen a little at the messages he must have sent her because she’s shutting her screen off and hiding her cellphone in her lap.
I can feel the heat from her cheeks from where I stand, five feet away.
I predict another couch episode happening in the very near future.
“Someone has to play host,” Slate grins wolfishly. “Besides, if I sent him over here, he wouldn’t have come back. There’s too much temptation on this side of the wall.”
Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms over my chest. “And you’re less likely to be tempted?” I question flatly. I know Slate too well; his cheeky attitude is second nature. He looks like he’s ready to settle in, scouring the coffee table littered with candy wrappers for more. He truly looks like a vulture on the hunt, cocoa eyes sharp with precision as he sorts through the brightly colored foils.
“I knew you had your eye on me, Quinnie,” Slate winks and I gag. It rolls off of his shoulders like any of my teasing does, before he’s reaching down and plucking a candy off of the table. My brows scrunch in confusion because I swear that Rory and I had eaten all of the chocolates while we were engrossed with worry while the murderer in the red hood tortured his second kill. “Want to be my date to the party? I know you’ve already been in my bedroom but we can make sure you’re well-acquainted tonight.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I thought you liked that,” Slate flings back, and although his tone doesn’t suggest anything of the sort, I can’t help it that my mind turns to Knox.
Yes, he’s been completely and utterly irritating since day one, and no, I don’t like it one bit.
I wonder how many times I have to keep repeating that before I believe it.
I can’t pretend that I have no idea what Slate is talking about. I shove the thoughts from my mind before I can think about it too hard. I’ve had way too much wine to be thinking at all right now, yet somehow also not enough.
I suck my teeth. “I think we need more drinks.”
“May I interest either of you in a seltzer? A vodka cran? How about a tequila shot?” Slate rattles off drinks, eyes already gleaming with the few that he’s downed. “Need my best drinking buddies with me.” He nudges my arm with his elbow and I scoff in response.
“I thought you lived with your two best drinking buddies,” I retort, more than ready to plop back onto the couch and finish up the movie.
Slate waves flippantly, searching for more sweets. He looks seconds away from sucking the popcorn kernels into his mouth for a taste of the salty, buttery goodness still coating their shells. He refrains, luckily for us. “Ace is busy moping and Knox isn’t home yet. ”
Before I can tell my brain to shut the fuck up, it’s already wondering what the stoic man might be doing. Has he stayed late on campus, working on a project? Is he taking a night drive out past the city limits?
Is he on a date?
The last thought makes my mouth sour and I look at Rory to see how much she’s been influenced by Ace’s texts and Slate’s words.
It really is a shame that she’s looking at me with wide eyes, the pleading pout more than an answer to my unspoken question. She looks like an innocent deer, with her eyes round like that. I don’t want to give in, but maybe attending the party will help get my mind off of Knox, and more importantly, off of the movie that I’m sure to have nightmares about tonight. It’s not like I’ll be able to sleep anyway, with the music blasting through the wall.
Rory knows before I even open my mouth that I’m going to agree and she’s springing from the couch, squealing happily. She rounds the sofa and Slate stumbles back, startled by whatever seems to be possessing her right now.
She grabs my wrist and tows me towards her room. She hardly looks over her shoulder as she calls back to Slate, standing confused in the middle of our living room. “We’ll be over in a bit, Slate. We’ve got to get ready!”
“I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming,” Ace smirks when he opens the door. A rush of heat wafts from the apartment behind him and the music is ten times louder. So loud that I hardly hear his quip.
The way that his ocean eyes trace Rory’s body, filled with fire, makes even me shiver. He’s looking at her like he’s going to devour her and worship her at the same time.
It makes my chest ache.
Slate doesn’t seem phased by the public display of eye-fucking we’re witnessing. He shoves his way past Ace, my wrist firmly in his grip. The moss green of his shirt stretches tightly across the muscles of his back and I’m surprised he hasn’t already taken it off to use his washboard abs to gather the plethora of girls stuffed into their apartment.
Speaking of, the number of glares I’m receiving because Slate’s hand is wrapped around my arm is astonishing. I’ve never seen so many sharp looks, glares, and envious stares as I am right now. It makes my skin itch, yet I smirk at all of them in return, following Slate to the keg where a boy with tawny skin and a curly head of dark hair is tipped upside down, the crowd around him cheering as they count the time he’s been chugging from the nozzle.
“Let’s go, Lynx!” Slate chants, immediately distracted by the events happening in the small kitchen. I must say, I’m impressed as well, but after about three seconds, my gaze wanders, looking for a certain boy with onyx hair and piercing jade eyes. I already know that he’s not here, but I can’t help searching the crowd anyway.
Something in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I blink at the sight of a boy passing out a round of shots, and when I squint to make sure what I’m seeing is correct?—
“Slate, those drinks are on fire!”
My friends head turns sharply, releasing a curse.
“Yo, asshole,” Slate shouts, thrusting himself through the crowd, sights set on the boy with the flaming tray of shots. My stomach curls and I’m not sure why, but Slate’s reaction to the havoc tells me more than I need to know. He’s not normally such a stickler, so if something has him reacting like this, carefully disarming the boy from the tray and grabbing his collar, alerting Ace to the drinks as he hauls him from the apartment, it must be serious.
I watch Ace disentangle himself from Rory, quickly making his way to where the flaming liquor has been left unattended on the counter. He walks so smoothly it’s almost like he’s gliding, each step filled with purpose.
He takes the tray and quickly disposes of the fire. There are a few moans and groans about the wasted alcohol, but the razor-sharp look in his sparkling eyes shuts every last one of the party-goers up.
“Sorry about that,” Slate apologizes when he returns. He offers me a cup of beer now that the boy is no longer deep-throating the nozzle, and I realize that I have no idea how long he stayed up there while I was distracted by the two roommates fussing over the flames.
“No, thanks,” I wave the cup away.
Slate grins and I don’t like that one bit. “Ah, right. You wanted something a little fruitier.”
“How about a little stronger,” I counter, and the gleam in his cocoa eyes paints a target on my back. All of the girls in the kitchen openly glower at me.
“That’s what I like to hear,” a female voice says, startling me. I turn to find one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.
She’s blonde, with perfect waves falling long down the length of her back. Her brown eyes are like molten chocolate, warm but gleaming with mischief. She’s clad in what I think is the tightest dress known to man, red and latex and hugging every perfect curve. It’s hot in the apartment but she’s not sweating at all; in fact, her skin looks dewy and healthy.
Her cherry red lips curl upwards as I all but gape at her.
“Mandy,” Slate shouts, tugging her into his side. He plants a firm kiss to her forehead that has all of the female attention that was on me, sliding to her. With a quick glance around the kitchen, I see that the girls look envious, not only because of Slate’s arm around her, but because of Mandy’s perfect looks as well. I totally get it. “I didn’t know you were in town this weekend! What gives?”
She purses her lips as if trying not to smile, shrugging like she doesn’t have a care in the world. “Wanted to surprise my cousin and meet the girl he’s been gushing over.”
Slate bellows so loudly it rumbles the floor with its bass. He releases Mandy and hands me a drink, introducing me to the mysterious but gorgeous girl. “Quinn, this is Mandy. She’s Ace’s cousin. Mandy, Quinn. She and Rory live next door.”
“Neighbors?” She questions, bringing her own cup to her lips. Her gaze is curious as she assesses me and the look has me bringing my own drink to my mouth for something to do. I don’t break her stare, though, interested in what she has to say. “Knox didn’t tell me that.”
I don’t understand it, the way my heart stutters at his name. Or perhaps it’s the alcohol I’m currently choking on, because whatever Slate poured into my cup is just that—all alcohol and no chaser. Yeah, that’s surely the reason my heart is doubling in pace, from the shock of straight tequila to my system.
That knowing look on Mandy’s face has me boldly swallowing another sip of my drink. The cheap liquor tastes like gasoline going down, but for some reason, I feel like I need the liquid courage for whatever else is going to happen tonight.
“Where is he, by the way?” She continues, cocking her head. She doesn’t know that she just asked the very question I’ve been wondering, but too cowardly to ask myself. The longer she stares, the more forced her charming smile seems, carving a blood-red slash across her otherwise glowing skin. She’s looking at me like I’m a threat and I don’t know why.
“Dunno,” Slate responds, and it’s clear by his wandering eyes that he’s more than done with conversing with us. His brown eyes are already lingering on two girls grinding in the living room. “Said something about a date, I think.”