Page 31 of Tin

She bends down to kiss me, gradually deepening the kiss as I open up and let her in. My hand moves up around the back of her head, my fingers roaming through her thick, wild hair. I’m still twirling a long strand of it when she pulls back.

“Quinn?”

“Yes, Riker.” She’s smirking because she knows how much I like it when she says my name. I’m tempted to tug at the hair still in my hand to bring her back down where I can kiss that sweet mouth all over again. But I don’t.

“Remember the first night you came over?”

She scrunches her eyes together. “Vaguely.”

She’s a brat. “Yeah, same here.” I yank at her hair. Not hard, just enough to remind her I’m not the only one with vulnerabilities between us.

“Ow! Fine! I remember. You were a stud and a half and delivered five happy endings before I went running back home, delirious and exhausted. What’s your point?”

Between the way her lips move when she speaks and the wordsstudandhappy endingsstill ringing in my ears, I almost forget I have one.

“You said you’d never fall for another loser who didn’t have his shit together.” I spit out the words before I fully remember why I’m bringing them up again.

Her brow curves, and I can tell she’s not sure why either. “Actually, I said that thesecondtime I came over. But what’s your point?”

I laugh. “Sorry, that whole first week sort of blurs together for me now, what with all the lack of sleep I was experiencing.” I pause, trying to focus on my original topic again. “Anyway, I’ve just been wondering what you meant by that. I mean, I know my place is kind of a shithole compared to the house you live in. And my truck is about three decades older than anything sitting in your sister’s garage.” I have a whole list I’ve been making for a while now, but she’s shaking her head at me and I’m pretty sure she’s fighting the urge to smack me, so I stop talking.

“You’re a dumbass.” Yeah. She was definitely thinking about slapping me. Even if it was just to startle some brain cells back into action. “Having your shit together has nothing to do with money or the amount of fancy crap you own. It’s knowing the difference between having a bed to sleep in and a home to come to. The difference between taking care of yourself and eating ramen noodles for dinner every night of the week. And the difference between having a random job to get you by and doing what you love and want to be doing for the rest of your life, or at least working toward doing that. If having your shit together had anything to do with money, I couldn’t claim to have my shit together. Which, clearly, I do.” Her hand drops to her chest, indicating herself.

Between the gesture and her haughty expression, I can’t help but laugh again. “No, you don’t.”

“Um, I resent that. I totally do.” But the underlying sarcasm in her voice suggests otherwise.

“You live with your sister. You eat leftover shit out of my fridge, and on occasion you’ve even nuked a cup of ramen noodles. The only one I’ll give you is the job one. No one can argue the fact that you’re pursuing something you’re passionate about.”

Her index finger shoots straight into the air like she’s about to make her argument, and I can’t wait to hear what it is.

“Excuse me, but I said nothing about actually doing one over the other. I simply stated one would know the difference between the two. Which I do. And, someday, when I get bored with the amazing sex I have over here, I can move out of my sister’s conveniently located abode to one farther away, and then I’ll stop being able to run over here on a daily basis to eat your shitty food.”

I lift myself up out of her lap and prop myself up onto my side. “So that’s why you come here. Just the sex.”

Her eyes flit back and forth as the corners of her mouth twitch playfully. “I believe I said ‘amazing.’”

“Hm. And here I was starting to think it was my shitty food.” My hand slips up behind her neck to bring her to me. Not that I need to. She’s moving toward me all on her own. I’m about to pick her up and put her back in the bed so I can do all the things that make her forget the shitty food I feed her, when there’s a knock on the door.

“What the hell was that?” Quinn’s face is both confused and frustrated, and I’m pretty sure mine is a mirror image.

I’m about to answer when the knocker repeats the offense and does it again. “Riker? Get your lazy ass out of bed and open the door. It’s cold out here.”

It’s Sid.

And I’m not the only one who recognizes her voice. “What is Sidney doing here at ten o’clock at night?” Quinn hisses, definitely unimpressed with our late-night visitor. And I don’t think it’s only due to interrupting what we were doing. Or about to do, anyway.

“I need you to do me a favor and go wait in the bathroom while I get rid of her.” Even as I hear myself say the words, I know how horrible they sound. “Please. I promise I’ll explain as soon as she leaves.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” But she’s already up on her feet, so I’m hoping she’s just letting me know how pissed she is while doing what she’s pissed about.

“I’m sorry. I swear to you I’ll answer every question in a minute.” I reach for the closest pair of sweats and start to pull them on while she huffs her way to the bathroom. Then, as soon as I hear the door shut behind her, I go to let in Sid.

QUINN

I didn’t have time to grab any clothes on my way in here. Something I’m now annoyingly aware of as I’m standing naked in front of the mirror. The same mirror I was so enamored with a couple of hours ago. Now I kinda hate it. I hate it even more when I see my face. It’s ugly, painted with disgusting feelings like shame and jealousy, and I have half a mind to bust out of here buck-ass naked to confront Riker and Sidney. But then I’d have to add humiliation to the list of ugliness, and I’m all tapped out already.

Since causing a massive scene is out of the question, I opt for the next most appeasing thing and eavesdrop by pressing the side of my head to the door as tight as I can.

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