Page 62 of Saving Sparrow
“I’m sick without him,” I whispered, at least giving him that much.
“It’s not too late to—”
“No,” I said, wishing I’d never admitted anything. Quentin grumbled, peeling his shirt off again before dragging himself over to the couch and falling onto it. “Do you think he’s going to school tomorrow?” I turned to the window again, like maybe I could see through the trees and the dark night sky.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t he?” Quentin could be so oblivious sometimes.
“Because he almost got beaten up by Delaney.”
“Don’t exaggerate. I never would’ve let that dickhead put a hand on Elliott. He was just being an asshole, per usual.”
“Well, I’m sure Elliott felt like he was about to get beaten up. That’s all that matters. Day one and we failed him. We should have at least warned him about Delaney.” I fell onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. I’d been so caught up in my thoughts I hadn’t realized Quentin never said anything back. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost too low for me to hear.
“I wanted to hurt him. When I saw how close he was to Elliott… I thought I might. I’m supposed to protect him.”
“You did.” I wasn’t just saying it to make Quentin feel better, although there was that too. It also happened to be the truth. “You faced down Ballbuster for him too.” I huffed. “Think he’ll really make the announcement in the gazette?”
“Nah, but it’s all good. I’ll make my own fucking announcement.”
That worried me, but not enough to try to change his mind. As Elliott’s friends, we had a job to do. I wasn’t as large and intimidating as Quentin and didn’t hold any importance to the school like he did, but I was ready to lay into Delaney today. Or try to, at least. I wouldn’t have let him touch Elliott, that much I knew. I’d surprised myself with how unafraid I was. I liked it.
“I miss him,” I said, pushing to my elbows. “Right now, we would’ve been reading together while you watched sports stuff on your phone.” Then we would’ve glued our bodies together and fallen asleep. I loved our routines.
“Think he’ll have a nightmare?”
“No,” I said, otherwise there would’ve been no stopping Quentin. But now that I thought about it, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to stop him anymore. What if Elliottdidhave a nightmare?
Quentin rested his chin on the back of the couch, watching me as I watched him. I must have looked as lost as I felt, because he turned his attention from Elliott to me.
“Come on, let’s shower and go to bed.” Quentin stood, kicking out of his pants and underwear as he stalked over to me. He pressed one knee into the mattress, then leaned in to remove my glasses.
I shook my head. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Since when do I care?” He gripped the waistband of my boxer briefs and had them off me before I had time to resist, then he manhandled me up and over his shoulder.
“Quentin,” I complained. He slapped my ass and kept walking toward the bathroom, only placing me on my feet once he’d stepped through the glass shower door.
I backed away until my spine met the glass wall on the other side. Quentin acted like he hadn’t noticed, whistling as he turned the three showerheads on.
“Why are you all the way over there?” He tipped his head back under the spray, letting the water run over his hair and face. Brushing his wet hair back, he prowled over to me, an innocent smile on his face. Breathing became harder as steam filled the space.
“What’s our word?” he whispered.
“Para,”I whispered back, the command for “stop.” It was the one Spanish word Quentin truly cared to know.
“Good,” he praised, cupping my cheeks.
“Quentin, don’t.” My eyes closed against my will, even as I pushed weakly at his hard chest. It was always like that when he touched me, this war between yes and no.
“Just let me take care of you. Let me do it all.” He grabbed my hands, putting a little force behind his tug when I didn’t move. I gasped as the water hit my skin, taking my internal temperature from simmering to scorching.
Quentin used his big body to shield me from the worst of it, giving me time to adjust to the heat. When my insides continued to feel like they were liquifying, I realized the water wasn’t the problem. It was the way Quentin looked at me that burned, making me melt.
I placed my palms against his chest again but suddenly couldn’t work out how to push him away.
My hands fell to my sides as he moved to position the other showerheads our way. A soft cascade of water hit me from all angles now, making me feel caged in.
Quentin stepped over to the floating shelf and then returned. I closed my eyes as he circled me, closing in from behind.
