You Had Me At -- ON HOLD --

Chapter 6

Quinn was on a road trip just before Thanksgiving and arrived home Sunday night. The four-game road trip saw the Matrix lose every single game, although at least the one in Philadelphia had been a close one.

As I basted the turkey the next evening, Quinn came over to assist. He'd been checking up on the turkey while I was at school. I didn't give it a second thought to hand over a key to my home. He was someone I was quickly beginning to trust. We were spending more time with each other. And what I liked most about Quinn was that there no sexual tension to worry about, at least not any I'd noticed.

He and I were becoming good friends, a strictly platonic relationship. He was the brother I never had, and I deduced that I was the best friend he never had.

The turkey I had chosen was enormous. At first I wanted to pick up something a little smaller, but Quinn insisted that the bird be big. He told me to pretend I was serving four men and not two. I thought he was overreacting, but I bought a big bird just instead. If anything were left over, Quinn would be eating a lot of turkey sandwiches.

"Can you pass me the oven mitts," I said to Quinn as I pulled down the oven door. He reached onto the counter and handed them to me. When I tried to grab them, he yanked them away and laughed. I rolled my eyes and made another attempt at grabbing them, but he quickly snatched them away again. He thought he was funny. I tried again but this time he held them over his head and taunted me.

"You are a man-child."

"See if you can get them," he said, tossing them between his two hands and then around his back. Once he had them in front of his chest, I punched him in the gut, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He bent forward, trying to regain his breath, and I took the oven mitts from his hand and pulled out my turkey to baste it one last time.

"Cheap shot." he said, recovering. At least he was smiling about it.

"Next time do as I say."

Goran arrived just alter six. He'd brought along a pumpkin pie. I found myself staring up and up at Goran. He stood at just under seven feet tall and I had to step back just to see his face. He greeted me with a kiss on each check and told me how wonderful it was to finally nice me. Apparently, Quinn had told him what a fabulous cook I was.

"And Happy Thanksgiving," he said in his thick Croatian accent.

"Make yourself at home. Quinn will entertain you."

Neither of them had girlfriends. Quinn had told me that afternoon that he hadn't been out on a date in months and that his last girlfriend, Jessica, dumped him because he didn't spend enough time with her. I found that ironic. Quinn spent countless hours with me talking about the games he'd played. We also talked about the books he'd read and the movies he'd seen. We both had similar interests and I couldn't see why women wouldn't find him attractive. He was the quintessential man.

Goran was an altogether different story. He was a beast and although he was very kind and gentle, he was frightening to look at with his black hair and black eyes. If Quinn hadn't prepared me sooner, Goran would have scared me.

I left Quinn with the task of carving the turkey. He performed the worst butcher job I'd ever seen. The poor thing didn't even resemble a bird when he was finished with it. Only then did he finally admit that he'd never carved a turkey before. I shook my head and salvaged what I could. We then sat down to dinner and J watched in utter amazement as these two men ate almost everything I had prepared. I was astonished by the volume of food they put into their bodies. I was expecting Quinn to take the pie, cut it in half and share it with his teammate, but he was kind enough to save a small piece for me.