Page 43 of Left of the Slash
“Nah, of course not,” he replies. “But it’s not about that. It’s about the way you look at her.”
I roll my eyes as hard as I can. “Oh my god.”
“Nah, don't try to play it off. I was watching you the whole time—never took my eyes off of you for a single second. I saw it, Q. It pours from your eyes like starlight.”
“Starlight?” I exclaim, before I start laughing. “What? My fucking newfound love shoots from my eyes likestarlight? Who are you, William Shakespeare now? Get the fuck out of here, Rob. There's no starlight. You're tripping.”
I laugh, but Rob doesn't laugh with me. He doesn't even smile. He simply stares, and I see the seriousness written all over his face. The room goes silent, and I suddenly feel like my friend is in on a secret that I'm not.
“Am I, Q?” he asks, his face completely humorless.
I try to force myself to answer, but I can't. I see that he's not bullshitting and it scares me. I'm not afraid of Rob. I’m terrified of him being right.
He suddenly stands and walks to the door, spinning around a final time before he leaves. “Think about what you're doing, man, and if you're still able to, you need to pull back a little. But in order to do that, you have to be honest with yourself. I'm nottrying to hate on you. You know I love you. I just don't want to see you get hurt, bro. That’s all. Hit me up, later.”
He nods a final time. Then, he's gone.
TWENTY-SIX - Quinn
Think about what you're doing man … you need to pull back a little.
Rob’s words sit with me like a passenger as I drive toward the Wonderland Bar on the outskirts of the city. I'm going to see Olivia again in just a couple of minutes, and my conversation with Rob is doing a number on me. He claims he saw something in my eyes when she came into the office yesterday. I told him he was full of shit, but I'm excited to see her again today, especially since we didn't speak at all in the office. Maybe my eyes don't light up, because that’s corny, but my heart knows when I'm about to be near her again, and it responds accordingly. That part is undeniable.
So, what am I supposed to do? Rob asked if I consider Olivia to be my girl, and I didn't answer. I've had time to think about it now, and I know the answer is no. She's not mine. She's just thewoman I'm hooking up with. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. I have no other choice but to repeat it like a mantra, because she has removed all other options. So no, she's not my girl, and I have to be better about remembering it.
Tonight will be a great test, because we will probably have a drink or two, and who knows what those drinks will do to us. Usually, when I drink I want to fuck, and maybe that's also true for Olivia, but I can't let the alcohol make my emotional. I can't find infatuation at the bottom of my glass tonight. If anything, I need to walk away from Wonderland much more secure in my indifference toward our situation. Anything else would make this night a failure.
I'm locked in. I stay focused when I pull into the parking lot, climb out of my car, and make my way inside. That focus wavers when I see her already sitting at the bar wearing all-red: spaghetti strap top, heels, and even tight red pants, with matching lipstick that glistens when she turns to me with a smile.
Fuck. There goes my dumb ass heart again. I have to take a deep breath and blow it out before I start walking toward her. Come on, Quinn. Stay focused.
“Hey,” I say as nonchalantly as possible. Olivia stands up and grabs me by the waist, tugging my shirt to pull me into a hug.
“Hey. You look good,” she says as we separate. “You okay? You look pissed.”
I shake my head and try to make my face go from pissed off to focused. “Nah, I'm not pissed. I think I just need a drink.”
“Perfect. I could use one, too. I got here about two minutes before you, so the bartender hasn't even made it over to me yet. What do you usually get?”
“Hennessy and Coke,” I reply as I take a seat next to her. “How about you?”
“It varies, depending on how I'm feeling after my work day. Today was fine, but I'm still thinking about yesterday—Nick and all his bullshit about not being able to pitch.”
The memory comes back to me, filling me with regret that I didn't smash his face against the fucking desk for the shit he had to say about shooting his shot with Olivia.
Fuck. Not cool, Quinn. Come on.
“Yeah. I know he's experienced and you need him and all that, but that guy is bad for the company,” I say, eyeing the bartender. “There are plenty of people in Rob’s section who could be trained up to be much better without all of the drama. Just something to think about.”
“Oh, believe me, I have,” she says. “I think a move is going to have to be made soon for the betterment of Obsidian. If he's not going to help, he has to go.”
“Exactly. Stephen, too,” I reply, and I wonder if I'm agreeing because Nick really should be fired, or because he guessed correctly about Olivia and I and I don't want him spreading it to Stephen, who would pass it on to someone else. Or maybe it’s because I might end up hurting them both and getting myself locked up before long, and I don't want to end up in the same place as my dad.
“Yeah, we’ll see what happens,” she says. “For now, let’s just try to relax, have a few drinks, and see where the night takes us.”
After that last part, Olivia looks at me out of the corner of her eyes, and I bite my lip instinctually. I know what she’s saying. I know what she wants. I hear her darkness beckoning mine, and my dark devil is already on the prowl.
I just have to keep my heart out of it.
