Page 57 of Dirty Daria
She cocks her head. “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”
“You do things without thinking, you put yourself in danger, acting impulsively and getting into trouble. I can’t handle that. It drives me nuts.”
“Sounds like a personal problem.”
“It is. I want you; I do. But I need to be with someone who is easier to handle. Who listens to me when I tell them what to do.”
“So, you’re saying I’m too hard to handle?”
“Yes, in a way. I am.”
“And you want someone who listens to you?”
“Yes.”
“Like a robot? Or a slave?”
“No. Like someone who respects what I say.”
“I respect what you say.”
“No, you don’t. If you respected me, you would listen.”
“Just because I don’t agree with you doesn’t mean I don’t respect you, Reed.”
I growl. “See? This is what I’m talking about.”
“What is?” She raises her hands in the air and looks around, like she’s looking for the answer to what I’m talking about.
“You disagree with me all the time. You argue, you don’t listen, you go off half-cocked and do your own thing. You’re always switching jobs like it’s normal to have a new one every few months, and you don’t take anything seriously. Least of all yourself.” My voice raises as I keep talking, ending with a tone that is too loud and harsh.
Tears pool in her eyes. “I see.” She turns to leave.
“Quinn.” I grab at her shirt to try and pull her back.
She spins and points her finger in my face. “No! Reed, you don’t get to say things like that to me and expect me to stick around to hear more. I get it. You don’t like me. You may want to sleep with me, but you don’t like me. And you may not think I take myself seriously, but I do enough to know when to walk away. Which is what I’m doing now.”
Before I can say anything more, she’s back at the bar withTheo. He gestures to a drink he’s bought her, and she points to the dance floor. A slower song is playing, with a lot of bass and soul. He nods and places a napkin on each of their stools as well as over her drink before taking her hand and leading her to the floor.
He pulls her in, way too close, and starts to swirl their hips together in tandem. Quinn lays her head on his shoulder, her face buried in his neck.Theoinches both his hands down to her ass, cupping the cheeks and squeezing. I purposely sit on his stool at the bar and watch them grind against one another.
My cock hardens at the thought of Quinn doing the same with me. Of course, I didn’t act like that with her when she and I danced. I had more respect for her than that. Had I known I could have pretty much fucked her on the floor with no resistance, I would have acted differently.
The song ends, but instead of returning, they keep dancing. The song morphing into one where you could dance slow or fast, depending on which side of the beat you wanted to focus on. Quinn and Theo go slow, with Theo pushing his thigh between her legs and encouraging her to grind on him as they go.
He sees me watching and smirks, then moves his hand up to cup her breast. She moves it away, thank god, but allows him to go back to grabbing her ass. Which enrages me. I grab Quinn’s drink off the bar top and gulp down half in one swallow.
I wasn’t lying when I told her that I can’t handle her. I really don’t think I can. I didn’t mean to say that I wanted someone I could control. Or, maybe I did.
Fuck.
But what I do want is someone I can predict. Someone a little more like me who doesn’t travel much into the gray areas of morality or behavior. Someone who prefers life in the black and white only, and who’s actions will stay on a more straight and narrow path.
Not that Quinn is corrupt by any means, or dishonorable, just that she’s erratic. There’s no telling what she’ll do in any given situation because she doesn’t think things through before she does them. She doesn’t have a code by which she lives and makes every decision accordingly. Instead, she chooses to take each thing as it comes.
My thoughts swirl in my head, I’m not even sure that I’m making sense to myself. But I know what I mean. Simply put, Quinn doesn’t think in the same way that I do, therefore, her process is wrong.
I nod in agreement with myself. The figures and shapes in front of me leaving trails behind them as they move.
