27. Quinn
CHAPTER 27
QUINN
“ S o…” Rory trails off and my gaze finds hers in the mirror where I’m brushing on blush. My first date with Knox is tonight and I haven’t been able to focus on anything all day. My stomach is a bundle of nerves. “You and Knox?”
“Yeah,” I respond softly, trying to fight the smile that’s tugging on my lips at the mere mention of his name, but I fail. Rory has known about Knox and I since a few days after Thanksgiving break when she came back to the apartment with Ace in tow, trying to get me to join them for breakfast. When Knox strolled out of my room shirtless, her jaw almost hit the floor in surprise. Rory was sputtering like a child while Ace helped her get her bearings, oceanic eyes glittering as he grinned at his roommate. “Knox and I.”
Her eyebrows are furrowed, and I don’t like that look. Swiveling in my chair to face her, I question: “Is that such a crazy concept? I feel like this sort of thing happens all the time.”
“In movies,” Slate pipes up, dreamily. He’s sitting on my bed next to Rory, having invited himself over an hour ago to hang out while I got ready for my date.
I eye him. “What are you doing here again, Slate? Shouldn’t you be hyping Knox up or something?”
“Nah, he has Ace for that.” He winks at Rory, who only raises her eyebrows in response. “I’m here because I’m seeing you off tonight.”
“You’re not my dad,” I scoff, fishing around in my makeup bag for my mascara.
“But I’d let you call me daddy anytime, Quinnie,” he jokes and I shake my head fondly at the brand of humor I’ve come to expect from Slate.
“I’m sure Knox is going to love to hear that you’ve been flirting with me again.”
Slate hugs one of my pillows to his chest, flipping through a book that I left on the table beside my bed. I wonder if he’ll find the page Knox bookmarked for me when he’d been flitting through it, telling me he slipped in a cheeky note for me to find along with the naughty passage.
“He knows what I’m about. If he feels threatened, that’s on him. I can just remind him of all the times we used to—” The ringing of his phone thankfully cuts off his sentence and he slides it from his pocket, checking the caller before accepting, his entire demeanor changing as he answers with a quiet hello down the line.
Slate frowns at whatever is being said and I cock my head, watching intently. I share a look with Rory, who is as equally confused and concerned for our friend. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Slate so serious, and with the way his body tenses, I wonder who it is.
“Yeah, I’m on my way,” he says finally, hanging up and springing from my bed. He tosses the pillow at the headboard, striding towards the door with a concerning pull to his eyebrows that has Rory calling his name while he makes his way out.
“Everything okay, Slate?”
He startles, like he’s completely forgotten that the both of us are here with him. Slate turns, scratching his nape. “I, uh—yeah, everything’s fine. I have to go. I’ll see you both later.”
“So much for seeing me off,” I comment when the door slams behind him.
Rory grins, sliding off my bed to join me at the mirror. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to do that.”
“Thanks,” I laugh, capping the mascara and putting it away. Leaning back, I admire my makeup in the mirror. My heart picks up pace the longer I think about my upcoming date, so I try my best to distract myself by asking Rory about her love life. “How are things with Ace going?”
Rory sighs happily. “He’s so great. I’m really glad we decided to move here this year, Quinn.”
“Me too,” I admit, grinning stupidly as we both break out in giggles. If someone would’ve asked me if I’d be going on a date with the neighbor I swore I’d never even be friends with, I would’ve laughed for ages. “Ro, will you help me pick out some jewelry?”
Knox told me to dress casually, something with jeans because he somehow convinced me to get back on his motorcycle with him. Okay, so he didn’t have to do much convincing when he was eating me out like a starving man, but I digress.
It’s a sunny afternoon, no clouds in sight, and it eases me slightly that I won’t have to ride it in the rain again, no matter how much I enjoyed being pressed up against him that night.
Now that we’re somewhat of a thing, I’m free to press up against him whenever I want.
Naked, too .
“Here,” she says, hooking a pendent around my neck. She clasps it for me and I can’t help but stare at the green gem that sits at the base of my throat, glittering in the light. It looks good, like Knox’s eyes captured in the stone.
“Is it weird to be nervous?” I ask her, fiddling with the pendant. “We’ve already had sex but I still feel all jittery.”
“Being nervous is completely normal,” Rory answers, squeezing my shoulders. They ease slightly under her comfort, pulling away from my ears as I take a deep breath. “You have to promise to tell me all about it when you get home.”
“I will,” I shoo her, playfully. “I promise.”
Rory and I chat about light topics to keep my mind off of my nerves. She tells me about how excited she is for winter break and asks me my plans, as if we don’t live four blocks away from each other back in Seattle. In return, I ask her if she knows any other information about Peep and Sam, but apparently, our older siblings are much sneakier than we thought, and we decide to do some major digging over the holidays.
A knock at the door sounds and my nerves skyrocket again. I smooth down my shirt as Rory rounds the corner to open the door, crossing her arms over her chest like a stern mother meeting her daughter’s boyfriend for the first time.
I’m thankful that it’s Rory and not actually my mom here right now.
I am so not ready for that interrogation yet.
Rory squeals when the door swings open to reveal Ace on the other side. I can’t help but to deflate a little, hoping it was Knox. Ace is all smiles, sweeping Rory into his arms and guiding her back into the apartment with his hug.
My breath leaves my body at the sight of Knox standing behind him. I swear, he looks better and better every time I see him. He’s effortlessly handsome, his black hair fingered through with gel even though he must know it’s going to get mussed from his motorcycle helmet. His jade eyes gleam, crinkling at the corners with his smile when he catches my gaze.
He’s dressed in a simple black t-shirt, his leather jacket tight over his broad shoulders. It’s the same one he wrapped me up in that night we spent in the rain.
Of course, he also has black jeans on, because Knox doesn’t know the definition of the word color.
I move to him like a moth to a flame, eagerly accepting the kiss he bends down to give me.
“You look amazing,” he breathes against my lips before kissing me again. It’s easy to lose myself in him, the warmth of his body and the taste of him on my tongue. His scent fills my nostrils and I love it, the perfect mixture of rain and pine. My heart drops between my thighs as I fist my fingers in his shirt and I’m certain where we’re going to end up tonight.
“Thank you,” I say when we’re finally able to pull away from each other. Rory clearing her throat helped speed that along. “You look very handsome,” I compliment, flattening his shirt just as an excuse to feel his chest.
“Are you ready to go?” He asks and I nod eagerly, turning to say goodbye to Ace and Rory. Ace’s arms are wrapped around Rory’s shoulders, and they’re both grinning at us like fools.
“Where’s Slate?” Ace asks, finally taking notice of their missing roommate. “I figured he’d be all up in Knox’s business right now, playing the part.”
Rory shrugs, answering. “We don’t know. He got a phone call and left right after.” Knox and Ace share a look that I can’t read before Rory’s continuing, slipping into Slate’s role of overprotective friend. “Don’t keep her out too late.” She points a finger at Knox. He looks like he’s trying his best to stop himself from rolling his eyes and I stifle my laugh in the crook of my arm.
“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes. “See ya, Ace. Don’t have sex too loud tonight. Or on the couch.”
Ace is quick to respond, a witty retort rolling off the tip of his tongue. “Why? Is it your turn?”
Rory smacks his chest and I guide Knox from the apartment before she can have a go at Ace for the joke. I’ve heard worse from Slate, so the quip rolls off of my shoulders easily…but now all I can think about is fucking Knox on the couch.
“If we fuck on any couch, it’s going to be yours,” I comment as I step onto the elevator with him. Their couch is both bigger and comfier. I wouldn’t let Knox suffer on our cheap navy futon that Rory and I got for a bargain.
“Fantasizing about fucking me on my couch, Princess?” Knox hums, his breath hot against the shell of my ear. The elevator feels almost stifling with the heat that simmers between us, his eyes glittering with interest. His hand is searing where he strokes my hip. “We can definitely make that fantasy come true. Do you have any others I should know about?”
“No,” I answer all too quickly, and try not to think too hard about the intrigue that flares in his eyes. “How about you?” I counter as the elevator comes to a stop on the first floor, doors creaking open slowly.
I can feel his gaze on my face as he studies me, and he doesn’t answer until we’ve left the building, Knox holding the door for me. “No,” he answers, but I can tell he’s lying.
It sparks my interest, and when I cut him a glance from the corner of my eye, he’s smirking.
Two can play at this game, apparently .
Knox shrugs out of his jacket and I’m taken back to the night when he’d given me a ride home in the storm as he helps me into it, admiring me in the loved leather before he tugs me closer. The smell of him fills my senses, heady and strong and mine.
Well, not officially, but hopefully soon.
I’m plastered to his front and I’ve never felt this carefree, this happy before, especially when he dips his head down for one more kiss. My stomach flutters, and I’m about to drag him right back up those stairs when he pulls away, chuckling when I chase his lips.
Knox plucks one of the helmets strapped to the back of his motorcycle and helps me into it with soft promises of more kisses to follow.
I have to squeeze my thighs together when he shoves his own helmet over that dark hair of his. He looks hot as fuck standing there with his tattoos on display, peeking out from under the sleeves of his shirt. Said t-shirt clings tightly to his chest as if he’s worn it only because he knows what it does to me, my ogle trailing appreciatively down the lines of his body to his tight waist.
“Earth to Princess,” Knox calls, rapping his knuckles on the visor of my helmet. I startle from my daze, glaring up at him as my cheeks flush with the embarrassment of being caught. My only saving grace is that he can’t see how red my face is because of the visor, but it also means that he can’t see my scowl. The crinkles around his eyes and the shaking of his shoulders confirm that he knows exactly what face I’m making and is amused. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes,” I answer, but it’s muffled slightly by the helmet. Knox swings onto his bike, holding out an arm for me to grab onto. Once I’m settled behind him, he takes my hands and pulls them firmly around his waist .
“Hold on tight,” he reminds me, and my heart picks up pace at both the proximity of him and the fact that I’ve somehow allowed him to talk me back onto this thing. I clench my thighs around him, wiggling closer to make sure I’ve got a firm grip and he groans like a man shot. “You keep grinding up against me like that, Princess, and we’re going to go right back upstairs to that couch.”
That doesn’t sound so bad , I think. I wouldn’t have to endure a nerve-wracking ride on the motorcycle where all I’ll be able to think about is how far my body might slide if I fall, and I would get to see Knox’s dick.
As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Knox takes off after a gentle tap to the back of my hand to alert me. I squeak softly despite the warning, squeezing my eyes shut as he pulls away from the building.
I’m pretty sure that Knox can feel the pounding of my heart against his back because at the first stop sign his hands come down to trace the length of my thighs, reassuring me with his touch. It helps me settle enough to crack my eyes open and distract myself by watching the houses pass us by.
At some point during the ride, I actually find myself enjoying it, muscles relaxing, yet my body stays pressed flush against Knox’s. I enjoy the feeling of his warmth seeping through my front. I can understand how he feels so at ease like this, like a bat swooping through the night sky.
When we arrive a few towns over, Knox parks against a curb. It’s an artsy looking place with murals covering the sides of brick buildings, colorful storefronts calling to me left and right. The road is bright from the streetlights and filled with laughter and a positive aura that stirs excitement in me, even more so when Knox takes my hand, intertwining our fingers .
“Are you okay?” He asks, a touch of concern laced in those eyes. “The ride wasn’t too rough, was it?”
I shake my head, winking up at him. “I’ve had rougher.”
Knox snorts, tugging me toward him for a hug that I easily fall into. My heart soars. I never expected someone as closed off as Knox to be so touchy once he’s finally opened up, but it makes me feel special. I’m the only one that gets to see this side of him, because even on campus his scowls are his comfort zone with almost everyone except for me.
He guides me down the block with a hand on the base of my spine, ushering me down a set of stairs. The walls are filled with graffiti and I look around in wonder at the small lobby we’re in, while Knox checks in with the young-looking boy behind the counter.
I’m squinting at the wall when he rejoins me, trying to discern the oddly shaped letters that are painted onto it. I have no idea what they’re supposed to spell out, it’s bright red coloring stark against the deep teal wall it’s painted on.
“Here you go.” Knox hands me a pair of coveralls and I scrunch my face in confusion. He has his own pair, dark gray, and in his free hand he holds two respirators.
“What’s all this for?” I ask, examining the beige jumpsuit he’s offered me. It’s clean and fresh, so I won’t complain.
“We’re spray painting,” Knox answers almost sheepishly. At his tentative tone, I peer up, nearly grinning at the look on his face. His cheeks are filled with warmth and I think this is the closest I’ve seen him to being bashful.
“We are?” I ask, an eagerness filling my bones. I know spray painting is something that Knox said he, Slate, and Ace have dabbled with, and I’ve always appreciated the creativity that goes into tagging buildings and trains. I even researched Banksy for one of my high school papers, finding the reasoning behind his works intriguing, but I’ve never tried the medium myself. “This is going to be so much fun!”
Knox’s shoulders fall in relief. Smiling softly, he answers, “I think so, too.”
“Where do you get your inspiration from?” I ask Knox, voice muffled through the mask as I watch him paint a long, black line down the wall. The fans in the room are loud, so I have to shout. I was nervous when we stepped inside our assigned studio, cans of spray paint already littering the floor. The walls were filled with intimidating artwork that I hardly had the heart to paint over, but now I’m most definitely enjoying myself.
Knox has been a reassurance from the get-go, explaining that everyone who books time here comes in knowing that whatever they paint is going to be gone when the next guest arrives, so there’s no pressure, the only expectation is to have fun.
And it is fun, getting a feeling for the can in my hand, figuring out how hard to press, how far to hold it from the wall. Knox showed me a few techniques, guiding my hands in different motions to create perfect circles, to get the paint drips I was eyeing from someone else’s work. The only complaint I have about this date is that the masks make it difficult to kiss Knox, who I’ve wanted to jump since he pressed his body up against mine when he showed me how to paint the funky letters, his free hand a solid weight on my hip.
I’ve been in awe of him all night, sneaking looks over my shoulder at what he’s painting: a skeleton stallion with a skeleton warrior riding it, sword raised as if leading an army of the dead into war. He’s skilled with many mediums and my heart aches as I wonder how it’s possible that he hasn’t been able to receive an apprenticeship yet.
Something tightens in my chest. The way that Knox draws, paints, tattoos…there’s a confidence there that I’m envious of. Every line he makes seems so sure, so well laid like he can see the end result as he’s working.
I yearn to feel like that.
“What do you mean?” He asks, beckoning me over to help him with his piece. I begin painting the skeleton horse’s eyes a bright neon green, adding whispers of black shadows swimming from its nostrils.
I sigh, abandoning my can of paint and wiping the remnants of the pigment on my coveralls before taking my respirator off. “All this time I’ve known that I want to be in art, that I want to do something with it, but every time I make something, it never feels good enough. Like I’m not as proud of it as I should be. I don’t have a style like you or Rory do, and if I do, I haven’t figured it out yet.”
Knox fully stops what he’s doing to turn to me and I blush at the attention. He takes his own mask off before his hand comes to caress my jaw, tilting my chin to look at him. His eyes are soft with concern and there’s a wrinkle between his brow that makes me want to reach up and smooth it out, suddenly embarrassed that I’ve brought this up during our perfectly good date.
“Is that how you feel?” He asks, and I shrug shyly. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all, but it’s been something that eats at me day by day. “It sounds like you’re missing a muse, Quinn.”
I frown because of his words and the lack of his nickname for me that I’ve come to adore. “A what? ”
“A muse,” Knox repeats simply. “Something that inspires you.”
Something that inspires you. I toss the words around in my head, thinking on it. Surely, I find things inspiring. I wrack my brain trying to come up with something, something that keeps me captivated, gives me the urge to put my pencils to my paper and create something beautiful, but there’s nothing.
Well, nothing besides Knox, that is.
“I think that I used to have one,” I admit, remembering my early days as an artist. “I loved drawing, always used to have my sketchpad and a pack of markers with me,” I chuckle softly, sadly. “My parents used to encourage me a lot, enter me in competitions, and the more I won, the more pressure I felt to be perfect, like I couldn’t make any mistakes. Eventually, drawing just felt like work, tedious and something that I had to force myself to do to impress others.”
I don’t know why I’m admitting all of this right now, in the middle of our date, but the words keep flowing and Knox doesn’t stop me, taking my hand as he listens intently.
“I couldn’t wait to go to college. I could finally escape from all that pressure and live my life, try and figure out what the hell I’m going to do. I thought that I’d find my love for drawing again once I had a break, but I haven’t yet, and I’m scared, Knox, I’m so scared of losing the only part of me I know.”
My eyes sting with unshed tears, and I refuse to let them fall because I’ve already soured the mood enough.
“Quinn,” Knox says so softly I’m afraid that those tears might spill over anyway. “Princess, I had no idea you felt this way.”
“Because I didn’t tell anyone,” I answer. “Not even Rory knows how I feel. I’m very stubborn. ”
His smile eases some of the tightness in my throat. “Don’t I know it, baby.”
Oh, that’s new.
I like that.
“A muse, huh?” I ask, putting my mask back on as I attempt to lighten the sullen mood. Knox looks like he doesn’t want to deter this conversation, but I want us to have a good rest of our night, and I think he realizes that because he follows with his own mask, then pats my ass. I can tell that he’s smiling by the crinkles by his nose, but the sternness in his eyes tells me that this conversation is far from over. “So, you’re telling me that you inspire yourself?” I tease, thinking back to his exhibition. “How very narcissistic of you, Knox.”
He rolls his eyes and before I can continue my joking, he’s lifting his can of spray paint and marking me with a big heart across the entire front of my coveralls. My mouth drops open in shock but his satisfied smirk makes my heart swell.
“I believe that muses have the ability to change,” he answers around the mask, practically yelling. He’s staring down at me so intently that it’s making me a little nervous. Maybe he’s waiting for me to pick up a can of paint and retaliate. Or maybe he’s thinking exactly what I’m thinking: trying to find someplace nearby and private to tear each other’s clothes off.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask defiantly. I want to cross my arms over my chest but I don’t want to ruin his work. In a way, it feels like I’ve been branded by him, claimed by his artistic talent, and something hot flares within me at the very idea. “What’s your muse now?”
Knox doesn’t answer but he doesn’t need to. The way he seems to be devouring me with his eyes tells me all I need to know about just what his current muse is.