Nova and Quinton: No Regrets (Nova #3)(19)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

Quinton: I do. I should have never kissed u when I was like that.

Me: And I probably shouldn’t have kissed u when I knew u were like that, but at the same time, I’m glad u did. It made me realize a lot of stuff… how I feel about you. And how much I want to kiss u, over and over again.

Another pause and I start to feel stupid for being so forward. But then a message comes through.

Quinton: Nova, I don’t want to sound like a jerk, but I don’t think I can take much more of this kind of talk with u. It makes me want to do things I’m not ready for. I’m seriously one step away from getting on a plane and flying over there so I can kiss u again—do a hell of a lot more than kiss. But I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.

I restrain a grin. He said yet. Which means he’s thinking about us in the future sense. That has to be good, right? Part of me believes so, but the other part has to wonder how long is too long. What if the waiting goes on for years?

I shake the thought from my head, not ready to go there just yet. Not ready to give up hope yet.

Me: Okay, we can talk about something else. Anything u want.

Quinton: How about something to cool me off and settle me the f**k down. You’ve got me all riled up.

Me: Popsicles. Snowflakes. Icicles. Does that help?

Quinton: Lol, you are so crazy and I love it.

Me: Good. I’m glad because not a lot of people get me.

Quinton: I doubt that at all. Everyone loves u. I’m sure of it.

I want to ask him if he loves me, too, but I’m not even sure I’m ready for the answer, let alone if he’s ready to give me one. Even though I’ve let go of Landon for the most part, it still feels strange to think about loving someone again, but alarmingly exciting.

Quinton: I actually have a problem I’m trying to figure out. And since you’re a problem solver I thought u could maybe help.

Me: Of course. What’s up?

Quinton: Well, my dad’s moving to Virginia.

Me: What? Why?

Quinton: It’s for work. And he wants me to go but I don’t want to go.

Me: I think if u don’t want to go with him then don’t go. You’ve been through enough already and I think u should be focusing on getting better.

Quinton: But I worry about living by myself. Too much freedom for one thing.

Me: U could get a roommate. It’s hard to get into trouble when u have people watching u all the time. Like Lea. She’d kick my ass if I did anything.

Quinton: Yeah, but how would I know I was getting a good one? One that would help me stay out of trouble instead of get into trouble, because sometimes it’s hard to tell with people.

Me: I could come screen them for u. Break them down and discover all their secrets.

Quinton: I don’t think u would have to break them down. Knowing u, u would just start talking to them and they’d open up to u. U have that way about u.

Me: Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t get why.

Quinton: U need to give yourself more credit. I’ve said more to u about the accident than I’ve told most people.

Me: U didn’t tell me much. In fact, u were furious when I told u the stuff I knew about the accident that I read on the Internet.

Quinton: I know.

There’s a long pause and the longer it goes on the more I think I might have lost him.

Me: R u there?

Quinton: Yeah… I was just trying to remember what I said to u… some of the stuff that went on in Vegas is a little hazy.

Me: I could tell u if u want me to, but honestly I figure what’s in the past is in the past.

Quinton: I wish it were that easy. That the things that happened in the past would just sort of fade away, but they don’t. I’m realizing that everything that happened… it’s going to stay with me forever.

Me: Although the memories won’t ever fade completely, they will eventually fade. I promise. And one day you’ll even be able to talk about what happened.

Quinton: I hope so. I want to be able to talk about it. Explain to u everything so that maybe you’ll understand how I ended up in that place. I don’t want u to always think of me like how I was in Vegas. Or even during that summer in Maple Grove. I want u to know the person that I sort of gave u a glimpse of while we were dancing in the gas station parking lot.

Me: U remember that???

Quinton: Yeah, that’s actually one of the clearer memories I have.

Me: Good. It was a good memory.

Quinton: Yeah but I was high. I feel like I should do a redo for u.

Me: U always could.

Quinton: Maybe one day.

Me: Yay ?

Me: And just so u know, I never thought of u as anything other than a person who had something really crappy happen to them that was completely out of their hands and you were just trying to find a way to survive through it. You’re not a bad person. U just made some mistakes but only because u were hurting.

Quinton: I don’t completely agree with u. Some of the stuff I did was because I was selfish. I didn’t want to stay in this world and live with the consequences of what I did.

Me: I wish I could hug u right now.

Quinton: God, I wish that too.

My phone grows silent as I try to figure out what to type next. What I want to do is put in all caps THAT’S IT. I HAVE TO COME SEE U. But he texts me before I get a chance.

Quinton: Can I say one more thing and then we can change the subject, because I’m seriously one step away from falling apart again.

Me: Sure.

But I’m kind of bummed out, because things were just getting really good.

Quinton: I think if every person had a Nova Reed in this world, then life would be a little sunnier. Now change the subject quickly before I can’t handle this anymore.

Not knowing what else to type, I send out a panic text.

Me: I think Lea might be having an affair with a professor.

Quinton: Nice subject change… why a professor?

Me: She’s too secretive, which makes me think she’s doing something forbidden.

Quinton: U should follow her one day and see where she goes ?

Me: Sounds like a great idea. I could put on my detective coat and my vintage glasses and shadow her every move **taps fingers together**

Quinton: You’re a genius. She’ll never suspect anything.

I’m smiling as the front door to the house opens. I glance up from the phone as Tristan walks through the front door with bags of groceries in his hands. He’s hacking so hard, I swear a hairball is going to fly out of his mouth.

“A little help please,” he coughs, dropping the bags in the foyer as he struggles to breathe.