Saving Quinton (Nova #2)(62)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

Fortunately that hasn’t happened yet. I’ve seen Nova every day for the last four days and managed not to flip out and make her cry, but that’s partially because I always make sure I’m at the perfect high whenever she comes around. Her visits are starting to become a routine. Like today. I wake up at around noon or one, get my morning boost, get dressed, and then wait around and draw until she shows up. I almost get excited knowing she’ll be here to see me. All of this stuff seems good, but there’s one huge problem. The more time I spend with her, the guiltier I feel about Lexi. Like I’m leaving her behind to rot in her grave, deciding that I should live instead of putting myself back into the grave I should have been put in with her.

I’m not sure what the hell is wrong with me. What kind of person would just move on from the girlfriend he killed? So I try to fight it—my feelings for Nova—but she consumes my thoughts, takes over my life, even my drawings. I’m actually drawing a picture of her when she shows up today. It’s one of her sitting on the edge of the roof where we chatted that day I yelled at her. The perfection I saw as she looked at me and I explained my love for the scene below. It’s an amazing drawing that makes me sad to see, that I’ve gotten to that place where I can put so much effort into drawing another girl.

The last thing I want is for Nova to see it, so when she enters my room I quickly shut my sketchbook. “Hey,” I say, tossing it aside onto the mattress.

She’s all smiles, two cups of coffee in her hands as she materializes in my doorway, wearing a blue dress that shows off her legs, her hair done up so I can see the freckles on her face and shoulders. “So I have a plan for today.” She sticks out her hand, offering me a cup of coffee, looking so happy even though there’s a mirror on my floor that’s coated in white residue, like she can see past all that stuff, like how I’ve treated her in the past, like the scar on my chest that marks the terrible thing I did.

I take the coffee from her. “Who let you into the apartment?” I ask, stretching my arms above my head and blinking a few times to hydrate my eyes. I did a line about a couple of hours ago, so I’m good right now, but not overflowing with adrenaline.

Her upbeat attitude sinks. “Dylan.”

My arms fall to my sides. “He didn’t say anything to you, did he?”

She shrugs, picking at the edge of the coffee lid. “It’s not really what he said, so much as how he stared at me for about a minute before he let me into the house…Delilah was passed out on the sofa and he made a smartass remark about liking her better that way. I think he likes getting to me…and I hate seeing Delilah like that.”

Of course she does, because she worries too much about everyone. “I’m sorry,” I say, wanting to wring Dylan’s neck. He’s been acting like a dick more and more every day, insisting we need to move out. Tristan and I actually sneaked into his room and searched it for the gun, but I think he keeps it on him all the time. I’m a little worried about where this all might be headed and the last thing I want is for Nova to get involved. “I don’t think you should come up here anymore.”

She quickly shakes her head, her eyes widening. “No, I can handle creepy Dylan…Just please don’t make me stop seeing you.”

“I didn’t mean stop coming to see me,” I correct her and take a small sip of the coffee. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the fancy Starbucks kind and it tastes better than I remember. “I just meant that maybe you shouldn’t come up to the house anymore. We can just meet in your car.”

“But how will you know when I show up?”

“We can set a time.”

“But you say you have a hard time keeping track of time.” She drinks her coffee as she waits for me to respond.

If I do, I’m pretty much making a commitment to see her—to keep seeing her. Go against everything I feel inside me, which I might be able to do if I can keep the right amount of drugs in my system, the balance that keeps me stable—functioning. “I’ll try my best to be out there every day by noon.” It’s the best that I can do.

“That sounds good to me.” Her perfect lips curve up into a small but portrait-worthy smile. “So do you want to hear my plans for the day?”

I rotate the cup in my hands. “Sure.”

Her smile brightens as she sits down on the mattress beside me and I tense as her body heat flows over me. “We’re going to have a fun day of not talking about our problems and not arguing,” she says.

I tense at the word “fun.” The night of the accident, Lexi wanted to have fun. Although Nova and Lexi aren’t alike at all. In fact, Nova’s probably talking about calm, carefree fun, while Lexi always loved impulsive and dangerous. “I don’t think I can have fun.”

She bumps her shoulder against mine, smiling. “Of course you can.”

I suck in a slow breath through my nose, telling myself to be calm. “No, I can’t.”

Her forehead creases. “Why not?”

“Because I just can’t.”

“Quinton, please just tell me,” she pleads. “Otherwise I’ll go crazy trying to figure out why…like I always had to do with Landon.”

Shit, she’s making this hard. She played the dead boyfriend card. Plus, she’s staring at me and her eyes are so big and beautiful they nearly swallow me whole.

“My girlfriend…Lexi asked to have fun the last time…” Tears sting at my eyes and I tip my head back to stop them from falling out. The water stain is right above me, which used to annoy me all the time, but oddly, for the last few days it’s stopped dripping, although the stain itself has grown. “The night she died.” I lower my head when I get myself together and look at her.

She’s quiet as she chews her bottom lip, her hands on the tops of her legs, her fingers delving into her skin. At first I think she’s uncomfortable, but then I realize her eyes are watering and she’s fighting not to cry. “Landon never wanted to have fun.” Her voice is so soft when she says it but lacks so much emotion, like she feels hollow. It nearly kills me to hear the emptiness in her voice. It’s a weak spot—she’s a weak spot.

Tristan was right. She does change me. I’m just not sure if it’s for the better or the worse, because I have a hard time dealing with the emotions she summons out of me, the feelings she manages to pull out of me, even through the layers of drugs.