25. Georgia
Chapter 25
Georgia
" S o, you know how my birthday is coming up?" Sarah asked, leaning on the corner conspiratorially as she passed me my gratis latte.
"Yes, have you finally decided what you wanted to do?" I asked, placing a lid on the steaming beverage and chastising myself, despite my looming late-night shift, for having coffee so late in the evening.
Sarah's eyes were bright as she nodded. "Yep! There's this new club; apparently, it has an amazing DJ. But it is in Brighton, so I thought maybe we could do a hotel? My uncle does their lighting, and he has a few free room vouchers!"
I hid my wince at the thought of a loud, crowded club. Sarah was turning twenty-five, and all she wanted was a nice dinner and, apparently, a club night. So obviously, I would oblige; it had been a long time since I’d been out late unless it was to work.
"And… I'm talking to this guy. We've been on a couple of dates now, and it's probably ridiculous to bring him to my birthday after only three weeks of knowing him, but I want to get your vibes on him."
I cocked my eyebrow. "A guy huh? Do I know him?" It was my turn to lower my voice as Hank passed by with a bag of espresso beans.
Sarah shook her head, her wide smile contagious. "Tall and brunette, a literal Roman god-type body. And just so nice. I want you to meet him!"
"Well, he's dating you, so he must have good taste; when do you want to go out? I'll obviously come." Her birthday was on a random Wednesday, which didn't really facilitate a good clubbing experience, especially if she wanted to spring for a hotel.
She looked gleeful; her blond hair was tied into a ponytail and bobbed behind her as she clapped. "Friday! I thought we'd leave here at 8 pm. It's like a forty-five-minute drive, so I thought we could grab dinner beforehand and then pregame?"
Friday. Filming Friday. My face must have fallen because her green eyes widened. "Oh no, do you have something planned?"
I schooled my face immediately and shook my head. "No! No, nothing that can't be moved!" Sarah clapped her hands excitedly. "Ok, I can drive, we can carpool!" Well, at least that was one thing I wouldn't have to worry about; I had walked to work again today.
Soon, I was left with the empty coffee shop to myself as I opened boxes, stocked merchandise, and rearranged the t-shirts that hung near the window. It was an easy night, but I felt myself looking at my phone; I hated rescheduling. I hated rescheduling my time with Sebas-Wolfe even more that I would like to admit to myself. But I couldn't let Sarah down. We had been talking about this birthday party for a while, and I knew I wanted to be there. Even if clubbing weren't exactly my scene, it would be fun to do something outside of my comfort zone.
I took a deep breath before finally picking up my phone and selecting Quinn's number.
Me: Hey, any way we could shoot on Thursday instead of Friday? Something came up that I can't reschedule.
Quinn: Yeah, I can do that. No dinner then, we can just shoot some content. I also have a paycheck for you. Where can I send it?
I stared at my phone in disbelief. Already? It had only been a week.
Me: I thought I was a bi-weekly thing?
Quinn: Consider it a sign-on bonus from our ads.
So I sent over the options I had for payment and waited with my stomach twisting as I waited. It only took a few moments for a notification to pop up with a payment from an LLC with over $3,600 being sent into my bank account.
I stared at my phone blankly for a few minutes until I shook myself from my reverie and checked the amount at least four times before I texted him back.
Me: That was just from new subscribers from the ad?!
Quinn: Yep. See you Thursday, Clark.
It was like my brain couldn't quite wrap itself around the moment that was now sitting in my bank account. I hurriedly finished unpacking the store and swept, barely taking the time to wrap my scarf around my head as I quickly locked up the shop.
I hardly felt the cold as I walked home, my fingers numb as they flew over my phone screen, paying off my electric and cell phone bills to get them completely up to date. Being so engrossed in my phone, I didn't know I was slipping until I was on the cold concrete on the sidewalk, elbow and ass breaking my fall. My almost expired scones scattered across the sidewalk, and I tried to muffle a cry as I sat up.
"Damn it," I whispered, holding my elbow and attempting to stand again as my hip twinged in discomfort. The ice cold of the concrete had me on my feet quicker than the actual embarrassment of being sprawled out on it, and I scrambled to pick up my scones, grateful that they were wrapped in paper. I was so dedicated to my task that I didn’t even notice a car pulling up next to me until a deep voice called out, "Clark?"
I froze. Shutting my eyes and breathing out through my nose in mortification, I stood as straight as I could while my back throbbed. Of course, it would be him.
"Get in the car, Clark, Jesus Christ." He demanded through his car window, his voice giving no room for argument, but argue I did.
"I'm fine, Quinn, just wasn't paying attention." Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I started walking, trying to ignore the car that was following me slowly from its spot in the room.
"Clark. Chivalry will not allow me to just leave you here," Quinn exclaimed, annoyed, taking turns watching the road as his car crawled alongside me.
Barking out a laugh, I paused to look at him through his rolled-down window. "Chivalrous? Is that what you are now?"
Quinn groaned loudly in annoyance before leaning over and popping open the passenger door. “Just get in the fucking car, Clark."
My breath was clouding around me as I sighed, and I realized at the moment what a pitiful mess I must look like: scarf half off my head, my elbow across my chest, and a bag of almost expired scones in my hand while I limp down the street. A shiver ran down my spine as I paused and shut my eyes, steeling myself because I did NOT want to get into Sebastian Quinn's car, even if he’d had had his tongue in my cunt only days before and I had fallen asleep on his couch. I did not need to be rescued and was perfectly capable of getting home myself.
However, the heat coming from the inside of the leather interior of Quinn's sporty all-black car was too enticing, even for me.
I said nothing as I climbed inside, keeping my bag on my lap as I folded myself in as small as possible. Quinn rolled his eyes and reached over me to grab the seat belt and strap it around my upper half. Resisting the urge to take a deep breath and inhale the now-familiar cologne, I instead opted for silence.
I tried not to notice as he flipped on the seat warmer how horribly my back ached from the fall, or how his forearms flexed when he drove. We drove in silence, the twenty-minute walk turning into an eight-minute quiet car ride. Quinn was out of the car as soon as he parked, opening my door and offering his hand, which I quickly ignored, biting my lip as I stood again.
I heard him sigh deeply behind me as I walked towards the apartment, the sound of the car locking as he followed me. I hated being hurt, but what I hated even more than being hurt was someone witnessing the event, especially when that person was Quinn. Even if he had remembered my coffee order.
"Thanks," I muttered before pushing into my apartment and quickly shutting the door. I had already fallen asleep on his couch, and now he was giving me rides home. This was not part of our agreement nor in our contract.
I flung my bag onto the table, ignoring how my scones now scattered across the wood surface as I disrobed quickly. My elbow was slightly swollen, but as I moved the joint and pressed around for sore spots, it didn't appear broken. A hospital bill was all I needed right now. How poetic would that be? Finally getting a large chunk of cash only for the medical system to snatch it up before it had a chance to even linger in my accounts.
As I lifted my shirt to inspect my hip, I heard the sound of my front door opening and closing. I froze, my shirt bunched in my hand.
Before I could even move, Quinn's large body shadowed my doorway.
"What are you doing in my house?" I cried, shoving my shirt down angrily. "Don't you knock?" Quinn rolled his eyes and pulled out a circular container from a grocery sack.
"Yeah, but if I would've knocked, you wouldn't have let me in," he countered, his muscular body squeezing behind me to open my cupboards.
"Exactly, so why are you here?" I snapped, crossing my arms and trying not to wince as my elbow twinged at the quick movement.
Quinn's golden eyes flickered to my side. "Checking on you; I don't need my co-star to have a bruised kidney before our filming day."
Narrowing my eyes, I watched him dig through my freezer with an exasperated look on his face. "And no ice packs in here?" Quinn shook his head and withdrew a bag of frozen peas, setting them down next to the container. "You're so lucky I'm here, Clark." His stupid dimple appeared as his mouth pulled into an equally stupid smile, and he pushed me into the bathroom.
Before I knew it, he was sitting on the closed toilet seat and gesturing for me to stand between his open legs. I suddenly was very aware of the small space that we were occupying.
"I'm fine," I insisted, my mouth forming a straight line, hoping it would ward him off because all I wanted was a hot bath and my bed. I was cold, tired, and sore but still somewhat elated as all my past-due bills were paid. The reminder that I had worked with Sebastian Quinn to get those bills paid was still smacking me in the face as he sat there, looking at me expectedly.
Before I knew it, he reached across the space that separated us and grabbed my good arm to yank me to him.
"Jesus, you want to mess up my other arm, too?" I cried, leaning back as he held my hips in place. Quinn's eyebrows raised. "Oh, so you are hurt. Good to know, Clark." He ghosted his fingertips at the hem of my shirt, golden eyes pleading with me for consent.
We stayed there in a silent battle of wills before I rolled my eyes and uncrossed my arms to allow him access.
"Thank you!" He piqued blithely, carefully pushing up my shirt to reveal the already purpling skin beneath. I kept my gaze on the ground so I wasn't looking down at the aquiline nose, dark eyebrows, or curly dark hair. I would've held my breath if it prevented me from breathing in the scent that was uniquely him.
The fingertips that grazed my skin had me sucking in my breath as my pulse quickened. Quinn pulled away quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to press too hard."
I didn't respond; I just nodded. Maybe if Quinn was convinced that it was the pain that caused that noise to escape from me, I could believe it, too.
"This lidocaine really helped me; should do wonders on this,” he explained, holding up the plastic jar before taking a small bit into his fingers and rubbing them together to warm it. "Thanks again for last night.”
I closed my eyes as he rubbed it gently into my purpling skin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake that I wasn't sure was the cream or not.“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Please, don’t. I couldn’t have that picture in my head while he was so very close to me.
Rolling down my shirt he silently passed me the frozen vegetables. "Don't let it sit on the skin for more than ten minutes."
Quinn looked like he was about to leave when Hannah decided that it was in her best interest to check in on the man inside her house. The fat cat wasn’t used to men—my grandmother got her as a kitten after my grandfather died, and it had just been us three for a long while. Without a word, Quinn crouched down and put his hand out to the pudge faced feline and waited patiently for her to come to him.
“Oh, she doesn’t really like men?—”
I watched in quiet shock as Hannah bypassed his hand all together to rub on his leg, allowing him to scratch behind her ears and down her back like she had known him her whole life. Sebastian smiled softly before standing, raising his eyebrows to me before freezing as a knock at the door halted us both.
“What, is it your birthday now?” He hissed as I rolled my eyes.
Shit, I had forgotten about my take out. I walked around him, still petting my turncoat of a cat, to gather the bag from where it sat on the stoop, allowing the smell of melted cheese and tacos to fill the small space.
“Did you get food?” Quinn asked, perking up slightly. The taller man was standing now, Hannah in his arms while she rubbed her face on his chin, perfectly content in his strong arms.
For a moment, I thought of a barbed word, maybe something about him stealing my food, but the feeling of his fingers on my bruises just moments ago had me swallowing down the words. Eviscerating them.
“Want to share some guacamole?” I asked, slightly timid for some reason, afraid of what he would say. Why did I care what he would say?
A smile broke across his stupid handsome face. “I thought you’d never ask.”
So that’s how Sebastian Quinn and I found ourselves sitting at my small dinette table, a bowl of queso and guacamole between us. I was generous and even split my tacos with him, which he devoured without restraint.
“Don’t double dip, Quinn,” I berated him, my chip dueling with his over the bowl of guacamole.
He made a face as he dug it deeper, breaking my chip in the process. “I’ve had my tongue in your pussy. I think you can handle me double dipping my chip.”
I choked on my bite of hard-shell taco, my eyes watering as he barely contained a laugh at my situation. I just shook my head.
“God, Quinn, I thought someone who was raised like you might have a teensy bit of propriety.”
It was his turn to laugh, shaking his head as he looked around the small apartment, Quinn’s golden eyes mapping the place like he was really studying it for the first time. He looked at the old photos that sat in an obvious need for dusting, along the mantle.
“Did you grow up here?” he asked, pointing his tortilla chip toward a photo of my fifteenth birthday party at the same table we were currently feasting on. I nodded, smiling softly at the memory the photo invoked.
“Yeah, I moved here just before high school with my grandfather and grandmother,” I reminisced fondly, taking a sip of my drink. Quinn was silent, regarding me like he wanted me to continue. “My dad wasn’t a fit parent, and that’s putting it mildly. My mother died of cancer just after I turned thirteen, and it just went downhill from there. My grandmother insisted on seeing her son, but it took a while for them to travel to Long Island, and when they saw how I was living…Well, let’s just say my dad didn’t exactly put up a fight about letting me live with them.” More like shoved me out the door and into their car.
Quinn chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully before murmuring, “My mom died too. Car accident. Not long after we moved back here.” He swallowed hard as his eyebrows did that crinkle that appeared when he was deep in thought.
There was a comfortable silence, Hannah still purring on his lap while covertly trying to nibble some dropped pieces of shredded cheese from the table.
“How did you end up at Perrington? It’s very…” Quinn looked uncomfortable as he was trying to find the word.
“Rich?” I offered with a knowing smile, shaking my head. “My grandparents took months filling out paperwork, making sure I had the right uniform. So when I got in, I made it my goal to make it up to them. To prove to them that I was worthy of that time and money.”
Something crossed Quinn’s face, almost like sympathy for a moment but then more like recognition. As if he saw something in me that was familiar to him.
“I know you told me about your grandmother, but what about your grandfather?” Quinn asked, watching my face as though nervous it would be the wrong thing to say.
“My grandfather passed away a few years back. That’s when we got Hannah.” I gestured to the cat still sitting in his lap, watching him take each bite with interest. “I can tell you’re not exactly close with your grandfather.”
He nodded sympathetically, allowing Hannah a small piece of cheese as he scratched her head. “My grandfather reminds me every chance he gets that I need to repay his time and involvement. To him, children and grandchildren are not unlike the investment market. His daughter was a failure to him, but his grandchildren would make up for it tenfold.”
I leaned forward on the table, all traces of appetite gone. “Doesn’t sound like a great guy.”
He shrugged, scratching Hannah’s furry head thoughtfully. “He’s not.”
Silence fell once again until I huffed out a tight laugh, needing to break the tension in the air that came from sharing our shared childhood traumas. “We’re kind of fucked up, aren’t we?”
A surprised chuckle left Quinn’s mouth as he nodded. “Maybe that’s why we get along so well. You know, trauma bond or whatever.”
I smiled, shaking my head at his remark and chewing on the last piece of broken taco shell, which I’d slathered with queso dip .
“You know you don’t owe him right?” I asked hesitantly, keeping my eyes on the melting ice in my cup. “Your grandfather, I mean.”
Quinn shrugged his muscular shoulders and I dug in, feeling a bit emboldened by being in my own home.
“I mean it, Quinn, you’re a good…you’re a good person.” I wanted to say more, I wanted to say that he was more than that. That I could tell how much he cared for people and how much he gave of himself. It was on the tip of my tongue but I held back, because if I bared my soul this way nothing good could come of it.
Softly, a smile lit his handsome face, allowing the dimple on his cheek to deepen. “You’re not too bad yourself Clark.”
I was never one for small talk, and something that had been living in the back of my mind since 9th grade was pestering to break free as silence overwhelmed us.
“Why did you hate me in high school?” I quickly asked, ripping it off like a Band-Aid in case my resolution failed me. Quinn looked confused, his hand stilling over Hannah’s black and white frame.
“I didn’t hate you. Why do you think I hated you?” He seemed genuinely curious, something that irked me—because what do you mean why ?
I groaned, dipping a chip deep into the dip a little bit aggressively. “You never, like, did anything, but you would always be…I don’t know, staring at me. Like you were trying to figure out why I was there. Like I was an insect or something. Then you forgot my name at graduation when I tried to extend an olive branch.”
Sebastian Quinn was quiet, his face softening as his gaze turned from confusion to contemplation.
“Well, I was a stupid high school boy, first,” he opened, shrugging a bit before shaking his head. “I can’t say I wasn’t trying to figure you out. I had everything in the bag before you showed up; the grades, the sports, the friends. You challenged me. Then after the injury, I was obsessed with winning Charles’ favor back—I guess doing the same thing you were doing. Proving my worth.”
He opened his mouth before closing it again and sighing deeply. “I was deeply unhappy, Clark, and in my head the way to happiness was proving I wasn’t worthless to my grandfather. That I was better than my father. I think I was just trying to figure out how you did it all so effortlessly.”
I scoffed, “I hate to break it to you, but I had panic attacks daily over those grades. I ate lunch in the library because I was too nervous to talk to anyone.”
Quinn was quiet for a moment before his face broke into a morose smile. “To childhood trauma and a truce?”
I bit my lip, looking at his plastic cup suspended in the air, and lifted my own to tap it. “Truce, Quinn.”
He helped me clean, even taking out my overflowing trash and reminding me to ice my elbow. His eyes flickered to my lips, and my breath caught in my lungs at the motion. It was odd, him at the door like he was waiting for something and I longing to give it to him. Instead, Quinn smiled. “See you in a few days, Clark.”
Something ached inside of me and I swallowed hard, biting the inside of cheek to stop my myself from saying anything stupid.
He was gone without another word, leaving me with a bag of defrosting peas in my hands and a lovelorn cat winding around my ankles. I looked down at Hannah with narrowed eyes. “Traitor.”