Grounding Quinn

Chapter 3 - Ben

“So, what is this?” I ask.

Quinn narrows her eyes at the morsel of food that vaguely resembles a cross between a chicken nugget and brains. Only slimier.

“If I tell you, you won’t eat it.” She smirks.

“No way, you haven’t even tried it yet.” I counter. I reach over to the large tray and grab another.

“Fine.” Quinn rolls her eyes and plucks the food from my hand. “Count of three, one, two, three.”

I wait a split second to ensure that she actually downs whatever it is, before popping the whole thing in my mouth. My eyes start to water, not from the taste so much, but the texture of it is something I’ve never experienced— nor wanted to. The outer layer that looked so crispy and normal dissolves into what feels like cake batter coating my mouth, and toying with my gag reflex. I barely chew it up just so that I can move on to swallowing and get it over with.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” I ask. Quinn gives a valiant gulp and then takes a long pull from her water bottle.

“Sweetbreads,” she says.

“There was nothing sweet about that. And it sure as shit wasn’t bread,” I say.

“No, it’s like the gland of an animal. This one was probably from a calf’s throat or something similar.”

I grab the water bottle from her hand and down the rest of it.

“That’s…interesting. You really like this kind of stuff?” I ask her.

We walk away from the table and toward the center of the festival. The place is pretty packed. I finally spot an empty spot under a massive Spanish Moss tree and guide her over to it.

“Some of it. That was a little extreme for even me, though. I would have been just as happy to go and get a pizza,” Quinn says.

“Seriously? Then why’d you agree to come all this way?”

Her long, dark hair is pulled loosely back, and several thick pieces have fallen free. Is it weird that I can’t help but stare at her?

“Honestly?” she asks, peeking out from under one of the rogue chestnut strays. “I just wanted to hang out with you.”

A scorching, sticky breeze kicks up and I can no longer fight the urge to touch her. I reach across the bench and pull her tiny body in close to mine. Quinn doesn’t flinch, or otherwise acknowledge my touch, but I watch her tan skin prick with goose bumps in response. My lips form an automatic, satisfied smile.

“What?” she asks.

I shake my head, not willing to risk embarrassing her and killing the perfect mood.

“So, do you have any hidden talents or hobbies or anything?” she asks.

My mind drifts to the photo album stashed in the bottom of my nightstand drawer. 

“I play a little bass,” I say.

Maybe someday I’ll show her the book that my mom says is a ridiculous waste of time. Pretty much everything outside of school is a waste of time to my mom, especially since I’m the only child. Before I was born, Mom was a professional organizer. Yeah, they have those. Since she quit working, I’m her full-time, pet project. She’s completely immersed herself in making sure that I have the ideal upbringing, and not letting anyone upset her perfect plan. Every detail is carefully thought out by her. Where I’ll go to college, what I’ll major in— who I should date.

“Ah, that explains it,” Quinn says. She reaches for my palm and lightly runs her fingertip across the calluses on mine.

She looks up and notices that I’m still watching her. Her posture straightens. 

“I think they still have fireworks on the pier at night, if we hurry, I bet we could catch them,” she says.

Fireworks.

“Quinn.” I sit up so that our faces are so close I can see the tiny patch of freckles that dot the bridge of her nose, I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed them before. Her hazel eyes are wide, daring me to look away.

I wrap my hand around the base of her neck, my fingers catching on the baby fine hairs. I hope she doesn’t notice how my palm shakes with a nervousness that I haven’t felt since my first kiss when I was eleven. She doesn’t wait for me to slowly close the space between our faces, and instead, meets me halfway. Her left brow is cocked in the sultry, confident way she so effortlessly pulls off.

 “Go for it.” She smirks in such a sexy way that I can feel all of the blood in my body rush below my waist.

When my mouth meets hers, I swear that from that second on, she has me. You always hear people talk about how there are moments in your life when you just know that things will never be the same. I always thought that was all horseshit. But here, now, with the feeling of her soft, incredible lips moving with mine, I know that it happens.