18. Eleanora
eleanora
. . .
“ H i, Nola, it’s Quinn.”
Quinn James, the overly sexy, motorcycle-driving hottie from the Bean Song is on my phone. To say I feel like a schoolgirl would be an epic understatement. I seem to have forgotten that I’m a refined woman with deep southern roots, who shouldn’t like the fact that this man is calling me.
Unfortunately, that’s not me. Nope, I’m the giddy, what-did-I-do-to-deserve-this chick who is jumping up and down, fist pumping and trying to get Kellie’s attention, pointing at my phone and mouthing “Oh. My. God,” all while trying not to make a peep. Yep, that’s me in a nutshell.
As soon as Kellie realizes what I’m telling her, she’s up and standing next to me, and just like in high school, my phone is angled toward her, so she can hear everything he’s saying. Except, he’s not talking. It’s likely because I haven’t said anything in response.
“Holy crap,” Kellie mutters, a bit too loudly. My eyes go wide at her and I’m fairly sure my face has morphed into some grotesque character, letting her know that wasn’t okay.
“Hey, Quinn,” I say weakly. For whatever reason, the confidence I normally have is gone. It shouldn’t be. He’s just a guy, who sings at my place of employment, who happened to give me a ride home, and is now calling. I’m not even going to bother asking how he obtained my number because I’m sure that the mystery behind it is so much better than what the reality would be.
“Am I bothering you?” he asks. Again, I glare at Kellie. I attempt to pull away from her, but she grips my wrist, forcing me to hold my phone so she can continue to hear.
“No, not at all. How are you?” Kellie pinches. I mouth “what” to her and she does some hand gesture thing, like I’m supposed to know what that means. This time, I do manage to walk away from her. Before disappearing into my room, I point at her, hoping to convey how serious I am that I want to now talk in private.
“I’m good. Listen, um…” Quinn stammers and I love it. I find it endearing. It’s sweet to know he’s nervous. “So, um, tonight, are you busy? I was wondering if you’d like to go out? With me? Tonight?”
Yes, Oh, my God, yes! “I’d love to, however I already have plans with my roommate.”
“Oh.”
I’ve left him speechless. I imagine with a man such as Quinn, it’s a rarity to be turned down, and yet here I am, doing just that. It kills me, but Kellie and I have a standing date every Saturday night and I’m not about to ditch out on my friend for some guy, even if it kills me.
“I want to see you though,” I tell him. It’s a bold, brave move, but one that boosts my confidence. I’m putting myself out there, consequences be damned. “We’re going to a club where my roommate’s brother works.” I tell him where it’s located and that I’ll put his name on the guest list, so he doesn’t have to wait in line.
“Thanks, but not my cuppa.”
“Cuppa?”
Quinn chuckles. “Sorry, my uncle is British and sometimes his words get jumbled with mine. Clubs aren’t my thing, honestly. Nevertheless, I appreciate the invite. Hopefully, I’ll see you next weekend. Bye, Nola.”
Just like that, he hangs up. I pull my phone away and stare at the screen for a bit before I go and save his number. I’m not sure if I’ll use it, but I’d like to think something will spur me to send him a message or call him. Although, the last thing I want to do is drunk text and make an early morning phone call professing my undying crush on the guy.
Kellie stands in my doorway, looking rather put off. “Let me guess, he’s coming over to bone and we’re not going out.”
“On the contrary. I invited him to come with us, but he declined.”
“He wants booty,” she says so nonchalantly.
I shake my head. “He said it wasn’t his thing.”
“Not if he’s looking for a hook-up. He probably sees you as this easy target because you’re not from here. How’d he get your number?”
I look down at my phone, shaking my head. “I don’t know. I didn’t give it to him, so it must’ve been someone at work. Doesn’t matter though, I’m glad he called.”
“Don’t get attached, Eleanora. You’re leaving soon.”
I nod. “Right. I’m going to shower and all that before we leave.”
Somehow, I’ve gone from feeling hopeful to completely dejected. I know Kellie means well but reminding me that I’m leaving or telling me that Quinn only wants to see me, so we can hook-up doesn’t sit well with me. First off, Quinn doesn’t seem to be the type. He could’ve easily made a move when he drove me home. He had the perfect opportunity. Here I am, stranger in a strange city, riding on the back of a motorcycle. Some of us live for this sexy romantic, stuff. He could’ve easily taken me up in the hills, parked and kissed me. I would’ve been none the wiser. Second, I don’t want to go home, and the clock is ticking. The dreaded return to the estate, having to face Roy and his pregnant girlfriend, all while telling my parents what I’ve been up to, seems like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. The fuse is getting shorter by the day and there isn’t anything I can do to stop it.
After a long shower, followed by a restless nap, we are deep inside the club. My mood is horrible. I feel like I’ve just been dumped or found out that I failed my final exam. Kellie’s on the dance floor with one of her many suitors. She tells me she’ll never settle because she’s waiting for Rhett to profess his undying love for her. I’ve told her she’ll be waiting a lifetime for that to happen.
I’m nursing a watered-down cocktail, some new concoction Carson made and handed to me as soon as Kellie and I made it to the bar. It’s fruity, sweet, and not hitting the spot. I don’t know why Quinn’s phone call has me in such a funk. It shouldn’t, and neither should the stuff that Kellie said to me because she’s right. I’ll be going home soon, and this place will be nothing but a distant memory. The chances that I make it back here are slim at best, and it’s because of Roy. I refuse to marry him though, and my parents are going to have to accept that.
“Cali not agreeing with you?”
I look over to find Carson leaning toward me. It’s scary how unobservant I am right now. That was rule number one with Kellie: know your surroundings. Instead, I’m in this busy club, contemplating the life of a melting ice cube.
“No, I like it here,” I tell him. I hate that I have to scream, but it’s the only way he’ll hear me. There’s no such thing as privacy in a place like this. Unless, of course, you’re upstairs in one of the VIP rooms, which even Carson can’t get us into. I happen to glance up there and spot a few people looking out over the dance floor. My mind is definitely playing tricks on me because one of the guys looks like Quinn, which I know is impossible. This guy isn’t wearing a beanie and has a button-down shirt on that seems to be glowing in the dark from the black lights. The more I look around, the more I realize every guy in here could be Quinn. I really need to get him off my mind.
“So why so sullen?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Kell says you’re going back home soon.”
“Yeah, that’s one of the downers for the night. Your sister, God I love her, but she had to remind me that my time is about to expire. It’s like watching your life come to an end, ya know. I know my end date.”
“That’s some crazy Hunger Games way to look at things. You’re going home. Nothing wrong with that. California will always be here.”
“Unless a massive earthquake sends it out to sea.”
Carson rolls his eyes. “If that happens… no, I don’t even want to think about it. Come on.” He grabs my hand, pulls me out of my seat, and drags me to the dance floor. Carson spins me into his arms before resting his hands on my hips.
My body can’t help it. I start moving to the beat of the music, right along with Carson. We’re gyrating and grinding. Hands are places they probably shouldn’t be, but I don’t care. I’m finally starting to enjoy myself. Carson has managed to turn my mood right around. I’m thankful because I was headed down a path I don’t even want to think about.
Three, maybe four songs in, and we’re still dancing. I don’t know how Carson managed to get the time off, but I’m forever grateful. I’m in a groove, feeling the music, when I turn and spot Quinn. Not the Quinn I’m used to, but this done up, beyond gorgeous man who has the most beautiful smile I have ever seen, wearing a button-down shirt, which isn’t fully buttoned and hair that looks like fingers have run through it.
I stand still, with bodies flaying around me. Quinn approaches, his movements are slow and it’s like the crowd is parting for him. His lower lip rests between his teeth, temping me to rub my thumb there to release it, to feel the plumpness left by his bite mark. He stops in front of me, leans down and whispers, “Is that your boyfriend?”
My head starts shaking before it turns slowly to look at Carson. He smiles and disappears into the mob of people, leaving me to face Quinn. “No, he’s a friend. Nothing more.” I don’t know why I added the last part, but something inside tells me Quinn isn’t like the other guys here, or at least like Kellie said earlier when he’s only looking for a booty call.
We start swaying to the music. He has one hand resting on my lower back, his fingers pressing into my ass and his other… well, those fingers are playing with my hair. Every so often, his knuckle brushes against my neck and my flesh turns into one giant goose bump.
“I thought this wasn’t your thing.”
“It’s not, but you are,” he says, sending a massive shockwave of lust, desire, and longing through me. I refuse to think he only wants to get laid. I’ve seen the women at the Bean Song chasing after him. He ignores them. Plus, the two women I’ve seen him with are beautiful. He can have his pick of anyone out there, and he’s here, with me. This isn’t about sex, it’s something else. I just don’t know what.
I move in closer, pressing my body to his. He does the same, but leans into me, his breath fanning over my already overheated skin, sending chills down my back. My body responds. My hand moves from the waist of his jeans to his shirt where I can feel his skin through the flimsy fabric.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks.
I nod against him. Our hands link, and he’s pulling me through the crowd. I rush after him, staying as close as I can. Outside, Quinn hands the valet a piece of paper and pulls me close. His arm is over my shoulder and mine is around his back. To anyone looking at us, we’re a couple, likely heading home after a night out. To me, we’re two people trying to find a path. Where it leads, neither of us know, but something tells me we’re about to find out.