Chapter 10 #2
“Well what?”
“What about you?” Either my empty stomach or annoyance augmented my confidence.
“What about me?”
“Are you having sex with anyone?”
His mouth fell open in obvious shock and he actually stuttered. “Wh—what—why do you want to know?”
“Well, you now know who I’m not having sex with. I think it’s only fair.”
He narrowed his eyes in a very hawk-like manner before answering. “I’m not dating anyone.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Well, that’s not an answer. I didn’t ask you if you were dating anyone. I asked you if you were having sex with anyone.”
“Not at this moment.”
I pursed my lips and tried my very best to give him a withering glare. He responded by mirroring me; the only difference was that his stare really was withering, and would have been quite effective if he hadn’t also been suppressing a smile.
It wasn’t my finest moment, but I rolled my eyes and actually huffed. “Fine, don’t answer. I don’t even know why I asked.”
“No. I am not having sex with anyone.”
“Oh.” I shrugged nonchalantly, but for some reason his response filled me with glee. It was as if a unicorn had appeared beneath a double rainbow and started tap dancing. Despite my best efforts to maintain a neutral expression, I could feel my mouth curve into a mutinous grin.
Quinn tilted his head to the side as though studying me and my reaction to his statement. Then he said, “Now it’s your turn.”
“My turn?”
“Yes. How many people have you had sex with?”
It was my turn: my turn to be shocked.
My jaw dropped but no sound came out for several seconds; my mind stopped, and at one point, I was uncertain if I’d heard him correctly. When I finally spoke, my voice sounded like a squeak. “Could you repeat the question?”
He laughed and took a step closer to me. “You heard me the first time.”
“That’s not any of your business.” I took a step back.
“No? You asked me—”
“You asked me first—”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “No, I didn’t. You volunteered.”
“You asked me if I was still dating Jon.”
“But you’re the one who brought up sex.”
I opened my mouth to argue but then realized he was right.
I considered the question as I glared at him.
I wondered if he would reciprocate if I answered.
But I didn’t want to answer, because Jon was the only guy I’d been with.
I didn’t know how to feel about that, how normal or abnormal it made me to be a twenty-six-year-old woman who’d had only one sexual partner.
And I didn’t want to give Quinn more ammunition for additional ambiguous teasing.
“Fine.” I started chewing on my lip, stalling, hoping that we’d be interrupted again by one of the managers, or by a bear attack, or an earthquake, or giant snakes.
When I waited too long, he prompted. “Well?”
“So, slept with…right?”
“No, the question was: how many people have you had sex with?”
“Are we using the Bill Clinton definition?” Not that it would have mattered.
“No, the Hillary Clinton definition of sex.”
“Ok, stop saying the word sex!” I glanced around the room looking for something to save me from this conversation. I didn’t even know how we got here.
“Well?”
“So, how does this work? If I tell you will you have to tell me?”
Quinn shook his head. “Not unless you ask, in which case I get to ask you another question.” He really looked like he was enjoying himself. He was merciless.
“What would your next question be?”
“Janie, stop stalling and answer the question.”
“Fine, fine, one—ok? One person, and to be honest, I don’t even know what the big deal is.
If you ask me, society really does make way too much out of it.
It’s like we want to glorify the process of procreation.
You have these authors like Byron who make physical familiarity out to be some amazing, soul-consuming, meaning of life, like an end-of-the-world thing, and it’s not like that.
It’s…” I waved my free hand in the air, trying to find the right words.
“It’s like having someone else pick your nose or floss your teeth.
It requires a lot of coordination and planning.
For instance, you can’t do it unless you’ve had a shower within so many hours ahead of time.
If you fall out of that time window, then you have to stop reading comics or whatever you’re currently doing, go take a shower, dry off, get dressed, blah blah blah.
What a hassle. I think bacteria have the right idea; humans should procreate via binary fission. ”
I was sure my shirt and my face were the same color red.
I hazarded a glance at him again through my lashes to find him watching me with no trace of his earlier amusement.
I couldn’t read his expression, which only served to unsettle me further.
I turned completely away from Quinn and started walking toward the door; the single knot in my stomach had turned into a million-man march of knots, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to look at him anymore.
“I need to find a phone. I’ll be back.” I left my notepad on a high-top table and continued toward the exit.
I heard him take a step behind me. “Where is your phone?”
I waved him off, walking faster. “I left it at the office.”
I was almost out the door when I felt his hand close around mine and turn me around. “Janie, you should carry it with you.”
I pulled my hand from his and gained a half step back. “Well, you said you were the only person who would call me on it, and since you and I are here, together, there is no reason for me to carry it.”
He frowned at me. “And when were you planning to pick up the phone before the weekend?”
“I wasn’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Does that mean we’re spending the weekend together too?” He took a full step toward me. I was forced to lift my chin to maintain eye contact.
At his words, my stomach felt like it was full of honey-drunk bees; I swallowed with effort and stated what I felt to be obvious. “As far as I know, we’re not working this weekend. Why would you need to call me during non-business hours?”
He opened his mouth as though he was going to say something but then clamped it shut, his jaw ticking as he ground his teeth. His eyes were half-lidded and piercing. After a long moment, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Here, you can call your friend on my phone.”
I glanced at him then at the phone, then back at him again.
Reluctantly I took the phone from his hand.
“Thank you.” I muttered before I turned my back on him and dialed Jon’s number.
For some reason it felt wrong to call Jon using Quinn’s phone.
I pushed the discomfort aside, reminding myself that Jon and I were broken up and Quinn and I were coworkers.
Coworkers could lend each other their phones. It was not unseemly. It was normal.
Jon’s phone rang four times, and then he answered with a somewhat hesitant, “Hello?”
“Hi, Jon, it’s me, Janie.” I took a few steps away from Quinn, keeping my voice low, although I didn’t precisely know why.
“Hey, I didn’t recognize the number. Sorry I took so long to pick up. Are we all set for tonight?”
“Um, that’s why I’m calling.” I glanced over my shoulder; in my peripheral vision, I could see Quinn standing by the bar a few feet away, facing me. “Listen, I have to work tonight, so I can’t make it. Can we reschedule for tomorrow?”
“Oh, ok. Well, that’s too bad…” I could almost see Jon’s frown. I heard him sigh. “What time tomorrow?”
“Do you already have plans? Don’t cancel your plans; we can always—”
“Janie, I want to see you. Of course, I’ll cancel my plans. You come first.”
I felt my throat tighten, half from frustration, half from guilt, and I walked a few more steps away from Quinn. I was careful to keep my voice low but still above a whisper. “Jon, you can’t say things like that.”
I was acutely aware of Quinn’s presence and, as though sensing my discomfort, I heard him say quietly, “I’ll be back.” He walked by me and out of the private box.
“Who was that? Are you with someone?” Jon’s tone changed slightly, his voice rising. “Janie, is this really about work?”
It was my turn to sigh. “Jon, I am at a site visit with one of my coworkers.”
“A male coworker?”
“Yes, if you want to get technical about it, I’m here with literally dozens of male coworkers.” I rolled my eyes.
“And you are all working late? Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you that; you know I signed a non-disclosure agreement. I can’t tell you about any of my clients.” I spun around and stalked to the other side of the room.
“This is ridiculous. No one ever works late on a Friday night. If you would just let me take care of you, I would—”
“Jon.” I hoped he heard the warning in my voice.
“You know what? Fine. Fine. You have to work late—I get it.” He sounded frustrated yet resigned. “I still want to see you tomorrow. Listen, I’m sorry, Janie. I’m sorry. Can we just start over? I want to meet your friend Steven. Can’t we just meet for dinner tomorrow and have a good time?”
I stared unseeingly at a spot on the wall, my guilt winning over my frustration.
“Yes,” I said on an exhaled breath, and I glanced over my shoulder when I heard movement from behind me.
Quinn reentered the room, gave me a brief once over, and then turned to the buffet of food.
“Yes, that sounds good; we’ll try to make tomorrow work.
I’ll call Steven next and see if he is available. Listen, I need to go.”
“Ok, but let me know if you need anything—money or anything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Ok. Bye Jon.”
“I love you, Janie. Don’t forget that.”
I closed my eyes, my mouth curving into a frown. I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and then I hung up.
I punched Steven’s number into the cell and only had to wait one ring for him to pick up. “Mr. Sullivan?”