Sweet Ache

I raise my eyebrows in a silent Yes, I saw you but then realize that in that one little sentence, I gave him the upper hand. I let him know that I was paying attention to him and his actions and by the derisive tone in my voice that it bugs me.

We both toy with the silence between us, him waiting to see if I’ll say more and me wondering if he’s going to call me on the carpet as to why I won’t go with him on Friday but I’m pissed that Delta Sig just might.

“I’m sure she would,” he finally says, “but perception can often be misleading.”

What? Please talk female here because I’m not following your cryptic answers. “Yes, it can. Like when a guy kisses you senseless one minute and then pushes you off the porch the next. Something like that, right?”

I notice him register my hurt and his expression falters as he figures out how to respond. “Exactly like that. What could have been perceived as pushing off a porch may have really just been a guy trying to prevent a mistake from happening.”

And the minute the words are out of his mouth, his eyes widen and my back straightens in incredulity that he really just went there. His comment stings in ways I never expected—and that tells me I’m way too invested already. I can tell myself till I’m blue in the face that I won’t date a player like him, will date only casually, but the spear of disappointment that shoots through me tells me I want more.

“Well, thank God! I didn’t realize I would’ve been such a horrible mistake—”

“No! That’s not what I meant—”

“I don’t believe I heard you stutter.” Emotions run at a rampant pace through me, hurt, anger, disbelief. I shake my head and look out of the window as the sting of tears unexpectedly burns the back of my throat.

I’m not an overly emotional girl. I’m not one of those annoying criers who sheds a tear when someone looks at them cross-eyed, so why the hell does his comment create such a visceral reaction from me?

“Quin.” His voice is low and apologetic, like gravel scraping my ears.

“Just leave it, Hawke. Point made. No worries about that girl wanting anything more from you. I’ve got to get back to my work.” I turn my back without saying another thing, once again mad at myself for allowing him to cause such internal conflict within me.

And that’s scary in itself because all we’ve shared are a few groping kisses. I should see the sign blinking HEARTBREAKER a mile away, but instead all I feel is that he’s worth the risk.

He blows out an audible breath behind me and yet I don’t hear any footsteps walking away. I busy myself, well aware of the heat of his stare burning in my back.

“Can I get your number?”

Sarcasm weaves through my laugh mixed with a quiet thrill that he asked. And then it’s dashed when I realize he’s only asking to save face. “Now you’re just making me feel like a pity case. No need for you to scrape the bottom of the barrel.”

“That’s not it at all. Between Hunter and Vince … I just wasn’t … I can’t explain it here. It’s complicated…. I wanted to call you to apologize but didn’t have your number.”

I hear the sincerity in his voice but at the same time can’t be sure if it’s real. “Mm-hm.” It’s the only thing I say, needing him to go and leave me be so I can go out with Layla, lose myself in someone else for a few hours—or more—and make that sweet ache I feel for him not so sweet.

“So can I get your number?” he asks again.

“Your charm isn’t going to work on me this time rocker boy.” I set my pen down so that I don’t use it to write out my number and glance over to him.

“Yes it will,” he says, that shy smile that calls to me turning up one corner of his mouth. He makes a show of putting the lollipop in his mouth before he nods and walks off.

Of course my mind veers to Rylee’s comment in Sonoma about how many licks it takes to get to the center of a certain Tootsie Pop. Different man, same thought, I think while I watch every delicious inch of his backside as he walks with that swagger out the door. Gotta love a man asserting himself and then walking away with the confidence that he will get what he wants.

And I’m not going to lie, a little thrill shoots through me but only for a minute before I shake the idea off that has heartbreak written all over it in an extra thick Sharpie. The writing is definitely on the wall and no matter how pretty the ink looks, it will still bleed through and stain the layers beneath permanently.

Chapter 11

QUINLAN

Traffic sucks so bad it takes me forever to crawl the few miles from the university to my house. To make matters worse, I keep hearing Hawkin’s voice in my head and my level of confusion is at an all-time high.

I try to rationalize it all but realize that since I’m thinking of a man, there’s no use in even trying to.

I turn down my street, anxious to get home and relax a bit before Layla arrives for our night of anticipated debauchery. My phone rings and after the day I’ve had, I can’t help but smile at the one man that continues to prove time and time again that at least he thinks I’m desirable.

“Luke Mason,” I say aloud for the speaker to pick up.

“Quinlan Westin,” he mimics. “How goes it?”

“It goes. And you?”

“It’d go a helluva lot better if some hot little Cali girl would let me take her out this weekend since I’m going to be in her neck of the woods.” I hear the hope laced with amusement in his tone and for some reason it’s just what I needed to hear at this moment.