Paper Flyers

Chapter 8- Winnie

And we were running again. My legs ached and my lungs burned, but it felt amazing. I've never been into exercise, but I could get used to this.

As the pellets of rain attempted to penetrate my currently-bulletproof heart, I remembered that my dollar store eyeliner was probably running down my face. I wiped my soaked sleeve across my face, and thankfully, there was no residue. How could today get any better?

Quinn turned to me, and the corners of his eyes creased as he grinned.

"Where are we going, anyways?"

In between giggles and gasps for air, I managed to choke out,

"You'll see when we get there!"

He groaned, and I laughed as we dashed down the reflective sidewalks.

Eventually, the slaps of my converse on the sidewalk turned into soft thuds. I looked up and smiled.

We were at Alki Beach, one of my favorite spots in all of Seattle.

I looked over at Quinn, and his expression was so that I felt a smile creep up on my face. His eyes glittered and were stretched open in awe. The tips of his pearly teeth were exposed when his jaw went slack. His fingers went limp in my hand. He displayed such raw emotion, that he was left standing on the old boardwalk, completely exposed and utterly perfect.

And in that moment, I didn't love anything else as much as I loved Quinn.

"Oh my god," he managed to whisper, sounding more like a small boy than a tall man.

"This is incredible."

His head turned to face mine.

"But really, how did you find this place?"

"On my first night here, I couldn't sleep. So, I grabbed a mug and a sweater and took to the streets. I just managed to end up here."

"Winnie, you are incredible!"

I blushed, and he put his hand on my cheek.

"Why are you embarassed? You are literally the most amazing person I have ever met. I only wish that you could see what I see, 'cause then you wouldn't be so embarrased."

I could feel the blood in my face to the point where I thought I was going to burst. In the heat of the moment, I got on my tip-toes and flung my arms around Quinn's neck. At first he tensed up, but then he melted into my embrace.

We stood like that for a while, sharing each other's feelings and thoughts without even saying a word. But, all good things come to an end, and eventually, I broke away. Hand in hand, we walked back to the bookstore, the only warmth coming from each other. When we got back inside the store, I grabbed a pile of towels and threw them at Quinn, who laughed. Stealthily walking over to me, he threw one of the towels over my head and lightly tossed me to the ground.

And there we were. On the ground, in a pile of towels, soaked to the bone. And yet the joy was lighting up the room, filling every corner and space in the entire store.

We curled up next to each other. My head was on his chest, which was rising and falling slowly, causing drowsiness to interfere with my thoughts.

"Hey." I said sleepily.

"Hey." he yawned.

"What was your life like?"

He stopped breathing and sat up. I followed his lead.

"Why do you ask?" he questioned, with a scared tone in his voice.

I blushed.

"Oh, I don't- I was just curious, 'ya know? If you don't want to answer, that's fi-"

"No, it's fine." he interrupted.

Quinn's shoulders dipped as he sighed.

"My life was literally the most boring life ever. I lived in the suburbs of Alexandria, Virginia. I had average grades, I was average at sports, and I looked completely average, with a completely average height until I was 20. I had an average girlfriend, an average house and an average house. It was so awful. I was constantly looking for an escape, so one day, I decided to write a poem. Ironically, it ended up being a decent poem, and that began the stash of poems under my bed."

"How about your family?" I asked.

"Well, I was an only child. My mom was short and had curly, brown hair and brown eyes. She was a total neat freak. She cleaned so much, I'm suprised she never found any of my poems. And my dad, he-", suddenly, a pained expression crossed Quinn's beautiful face.

"My dad, he had black and straight hair and my eyes. He was tall. Like, really freaking tall. He wanted to be in the army. He joined and went to Somalia to help with the civil war in 1993. He never came back."

Before I could say anything, he said,

"What about your family?"

I looked down.

"Oh, um, I grew up in Colorado. It snowed a lot. My mom and dad both had green eyes and blonde hair. No one knows how I ended up with this mess," I said, gesturing to my face, "My mom and dad divorced in 1994, almost a year after my dad gave me my first book. Soon after, we got word that my dad was driving while intoxicated and hit a tree. He died in the hospital the next day."

"I'm so sorry," Quinn sighed.

"Hey, you don't have a dad either, so don't apologize to me." I retorted.

"But anyways," I continued, "I really liked books. Like, a lot. And I didn't have a lot of friends, nd basically people hated me all through elementary, middle, and high school. After that whole mess, I took some literary classes in the community college, and ended up dropping out and moving here."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

We sat together for some time, until Quinn checked his watch and got to his feet.

"It's getting late. I'd better go." he said.

"Oh, okay."

"Goodnight, Winnie."

"Goodnight, Quinn."

As he walked away, a dreaded but invevitable sense of l'esprit de l'escalier came over me. And for the first time, I could feel him take a piece of myself with him.