Page 59 of Finders Keepers
I hesitate. “About me, then? About what I did when we were kids?”
“About whatIdid,” he says.
I’m surprised that he’s taking any of the blame. Up until now I assumed he thought of his harsh words and silence as justified punishment for my betrayal, not their own separate harm done. “Well,” I say, but don’t know where else to take that thought.
“Nina, I want you. I do. But I’m really trying not to make any more mistakes.”
“Mistakes. Right.” And there it is, the devastating thing I was expecting earlier. I force a smile and a lighthearted laugh, even though the pronouncement feels like a dagger to the chest. “Which is what it would be if we had sex. A mistake.”
“That isn’t what I meant.” He catches my hand, as if sensing my instinct to move away from him.
“What did you mean, then?” I ask.
“It’s only…I promised myself I wasn’t going to fuck this all up again. That this time we would end the summer with the treasure in hand and our friendship intact. And if we continue down the path we started down last night, I’m not sure I’ll be able to deliver on either of those.” He absently strokes his fingers over mine. “I am trying to do better by you than I did before. But kissing you, watching you last night…It’s very hard to remember what doing better looks like when all I can think of is, well, doingyou.”
“We could just fuck without it meaning anything,” I suggest, making it sound bright enough that I can play it off as a joke if needed.
He pauses for a moment, then says, “No, I don’t think I could. I think it would have to mean something to me.” The hand not holding mine tucks a curl behind my ear. “Youhave always meant something to me, Nina.”
I swallow hard against the sentiment. It’s tempting to lean into it, to explore what he means by that. But apparently there arestill tiny pieces of the person I was back when we were young, resting like shrapnel somewhere inside of me, better left alone than pulled out. And those all twinge in harmony, alerting me to their presence. I want to scream, to cry,If I’ve always meant something to you, how could you disappear from my life so completely?
“I see,” I say instead.
“I hope you do,” he says quietly, as his fingers drift from my ear to my chin, nudging it upward to make me look him in the eyes. “I don’t want to lose you again.” Then he leans in and plants a soft, sweet kiss on my cheek.
Which is the moment my mom bursts through the front door. “Sweetie, are you—Oh!” she exclaims as she takes in the scene before her: Quentin and me on our living room couch, springing apart as if we’ve been caught in flagrante delicto. She literally takes a step backward, back out onto the porch, and closes the door in her own face. It looks almost like someone pressed rewind on the scene, in real life.
Quentin and I remain frozen for a second or two, staring at each other. We’re wearing matching blushes, his a shade deeper due to his paler skin. The fact that weweren’tdoing anything almost makes it more mortifying than if she’d actually caught us with our clothes off.
My phone vibrates on the coffee table. I reach for it and find a text from Mom:I wasn’t there. I didn’t see anything. Please proceed.
I respond,Nothing was even happening. Come back in.
“Oh geez,” Quentin says in a voice that’s so comically alarmed yet understated it sends me into a fit of laughter. He quickly joins in. “Do you think she’ll believe that it wasn’t what it looked like?”
I cover my face with my hands. “Even if she does, I doubt itwill stop her from relaying an exaggerated version to every person she meets for the rest of time. Or until something juicier comes along.” Quentin frowns, and I lean over and rest my head on his shoulder. “Thank you for breakfast. And for last night. It was…very good for me too. But I don’t want to lose you either.”
He lets out a long sigh that sounds like relief.
“Maybe after we find the treasure…” I start. And I say it with the certainty that it does exist somewhere out there. Because I can’t believe otherwise anymore. The idea that we’re holding off on exploring our connection for something that might not even be real is not one I’m willing to entertain. I simply refuse.
“Maybe after we find the treasure,” he repeats in agreement. “If you still want.”
I lift my head and turn toward him, laughing. “Why ifIstill want? Why is it only up to me?”
He looks me dead in the eye, pupils as dark as they were last night on the porch. “It will be up to you because I can tell you now, I already know I am going to want to, Nina. Do not mistake my circumspection for lack of interest. If you knew how many times I’ve imagined bending you over this couch in just the last five minutes—”
“Oh. Goodness.” Our heads turn toward the voice by the door. Dammit, Mom. Of course she chose that exact moment to come back into the house. I bury my face in my hands again and groan.
Quentin grabs the bag from our apple fritters and holds it strategically in front of him as he stands. I have never seen him turn quite this red before; a strawberry held up to his face would blend right in. “Good morning, Miss Patti. I was, uh, just heading out. Have a great day!”
My mom and I both watch as Quentin escapes out the front door. Then she turns her attention toward me, eyebrows raised in question.
I glance at my phone without registering what’s on the screen and say, “Oh wow, that time already? I have an important phone call with my…insurance agent. Gotta go!” Before she can question it, I hurry upstairs to my bedroom, where I guess I will now have to hide for the rest of my life.
26
Coward, I textQuentin once I’m safely ensconced in my bedroom with the door locked.
