Saving Quinton (Nova #2)(64)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

I rub my hand over my head and then to the back of my neck, gradually exhale. “No…it’s okay…let’s just go try to have some fun.”

Sober fun.

Does that even freaking exist?

I’m not even sure I believe in fun anymore, but I’m about to attempt to find out. Thankfully, I still have enough crystal in my system not to crash completely, although the rush could fade before the day’s over, especially if I get worked up over something. I’m worried. Not just about myself, but about Nova.

Worried she’ll get to see the real monster that lies inside me and it’ll crush our fun day into a thousand unfixable pieces.

Nova

We walk up and down the Strip talking and laughing. Well, I do most of the laughing. Quinton rarely laughs, but I do manage to get him to smile a few times. We go to the New York, New York casino to ride the roller coaster that winds around the outside of the building. While we’re waiting in the fairly long line, he admits he’s a little scared of roller coasters.

“When I was about twelve or thirteen, I was sitting next to some kid when I was on one and he barfed his guts out,” Quinton admits. We’re standing across from each other, a bunch of people around us, but as we talk, making eye contract, it feels like it’s just him and me. I didn’t know eye contact could be so powerful until today, and I become highly aware that Landon didn’t make eye contact a lot, like he was always looking off somewhere else.

“Ew.” I pull a disgusted face. “Did any get on you?”

He nods, looking utterly disgusted. “Oh yeah, it was nasty.”

“My dad and I used to ride roller coasters together,” I tell him, moving forward with the line. “I haven’t gotten on one since he died, though, because it sort of makes me sad.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised.

“Yeah, this is me getting back in the saddle.”

“Are you sure you want to share that moment with me?” he wonders, uneasy as he hunches back against the railing that the line weaves around.

I nod and then daringly reach toward him and take his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers. “I’m glad it’s you and no one else.”

He stares at the floor, muttering something that sounds an awful lot like “Meaningful.” But he doesn’t let go of my hand until we climb into our seats. We get buckled in and the guy comes around to check that we’re fastened securely. Then I hold my breath as the car inches forward and climbs the track to the outside. The sun is blinding, but I refuse to look away, wanting to feel this moment, knowing that when the car drops, I’ll feel a fleeting moment of freedom, something I’ve needed since I got here. And I hope that maybe the ride can do the same for Quinton.

Quinton tips his knee in when we reach the top, pressing it against mine. I’m not sure if he realizes he’s doing it or if he’s doing it on purpose to comfort me or himself, but I embrace the touching, holding my breath as we fall. Together. We twist and turn and hang on, people shouting all around us. My hair whips in the wind, air flows over my body, and I feel like I’m flying. It’s the most liberating feeling and I wish I could just stay on that damn roller coaster forever. Because it’s plain and simple fun. So effortless, like how I wish life could be.

By the time we get off, Quinton looks like he’s on the verge of laughing, but never does let it all the way out. Still, it’s good to see his eyes hued with a hint of happiness.

“Jesus, my heart’s racing,” he says with excitement as he presses his hand to his chest. He reaches over and takes my hand in his, then places it over his heart. “Do you feel it?”

I nod, forgetting to breathe. “So’s mine.”

Without really seeming like he realizes what he’s doing, he puts his hand over my heart, which is racing more from his touch than anything else. He doesn’t say anything, just feeling my heartbeat, while I feel his. Both alive. Both feeling the simple yet meaningful moment while people dodge around us, trying to leave the ride, giving us strange looks, because they don’t get what we’re doing. I feel sorry for them, that they can’t get how amazing it is to feel someone else’s heartbeat, to know they’re still alive.

Maybe it’s because I get that that I do what I do next. Or maybe it’s just that I simply want to kiss him. Who knows. But for whatever reason, I find myself standing on my tiptoes and pressing my lips against his. He hesitates at first, his lips not moving against mine for a fleeting moment. But then he sucks in a sharp breath and suddenly he’s kissing me back. Our tongues tangle, our bodies press together, our hands squished between us because we still have our palms over each other’s hearts. His free hand finds the small of my back and he pulls me closer, devouring me with his tongue, stealing the breath right out of me. Everything I felt last summer for him crashes through me and spills over my soul. The rush of emotion is so compelling my heart accelerates and my legs buckle. I nearly start to fall, but Quinton holds me up, gripping my waist as he backs me up against the railing. The bar presses into my back as his hands wander all over my body, fingers delving into my skin. With every breath I take, my chest crashes into his and the heat of his body mixes with mine and the heat of the desert air, making my skin damp with sweat. I’m breathless. Lost. Consumed. The people and the dings of slot machines around us start to fade away. It’s like we’ve flown off somewhere else. I wish we could stay that way forever, but eventually he pulls away, nipping at my bottom lip. Gasping for air, he rests his forehead against mine and doesn’t say anything. Neither do I. We’re both confused over what happened. At least I know I am. As much as I feel for him, the fact that he’s on crystal right now makes my feelings conflicted. Is it wrong to be with him when he’s like this? Can he even understand his true feelings? Can I understand my true feelings? Because they’re getting intense. More than I think I realized.

“So now what?” he finally asks, breathless and wide-eyed, his hand on my chest trembling.

It takes me a moment to gather myself before I can lean back to glance up at the clock on the wall. “How about we grab a bite to eat and then go back to where I’m staying so you can see me play?” It seems like such a mundane thing to do after that kiss, but it’s all I can come up with through the emotional fogginess created by his touch.

He gives me a half-smile, seeming a little dazed. “That sounds good.” He’s being so cooperative, and between that, this entire day, and that kiss, hope flashes inside me as bright as the sun. And for a stupid moment, I actually believe this is all going to turn out good. That having fun and hanging out can help someone want to get better.