The Middleman | ongoing

40 | they didn't use lube

40 | they didn't use lube

Song: Did I by Kehlani

Depicted Above: Diego Barrueco as Quinn Carter

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I'm taken aback.

There's really no other way to put it.

My room was just buzzing with men today. Any observant outsider would think I worked fast.

Out with the Pasey and in with the Quinn—a fuming Quinn that is—standing right in front of my hotel room.

His face is flushed and blazing, and his lips are drawn tightly together. Though I'm standing close enough to him, I don't get a real view of his dark, chocolaty eyes as they've narrowed at me, further adding to his overall seething aura. From his stance, I can tell he had been standing outside, hidden from view, and overhearing my encounter with Pasey for perhaps the whole time.

I don't know what it is, but I almost want to shrink back. This is the most furious I've ever seen Quinn, and shit am I confused and worried!

I don't understand. Why was he mad? Had he overheard everything? The door was open the entire time...

But if he had eavesdropped on my encounter with Pasey, I would expect him to celebrate and laud my achievements. After all, I had finally gotten Harold Pasey to sign the papers among many things. This was a victory, so what's with this moody shift in behavior?

Sure, the way I coerced the man into approving the deal was a little unorthodox, but nothing about the situation was normal. Pasey was about to sex me for silence and get away with his corrupt deeds. I was merely a middleman vigilante. The heroine we all didn't know we needed.

Or was I?

Suddenly, feeling very awkward and exposed, I bite down on my lower lip, hoping the lines I sense that have etched themselves onto my forehead aren't very pronounced.

"Uh... hey. Didn't see ya there. Guess you heard everything then," I greet Quinn with a forced awkward half-smile that must look very sus.

Quinn stiffens slightly and then stretches his neck, gawking at me like I'm possessed. Honestly, I was far from it. If anything, Pasey needed an exorcism. Not me.

"Was your room service laced with drugs? Or did you hit your head on something today?" Quinn grits out savagely.

Excuse me? I thought I handled Pasey very well, thank you very much!

On its own accord, my mouth drops open, and I'm gaping at Quinn. Now, he was just being downright offensive. What's gotten his man panties in a bunch?

"What the hell are you talking about? Didn't you hear everything that just happened? We finally copped that deal." Smiling in satisfaction, I head to my desk and pick up the many-paged contract. "Look," I urge, waving the stack in the air, trying to elicit a more positive and cheerful reaction out of him.

It's to no avail.

If anything, his eyes get darker, and his eyebrows furrow even more.

Quinn's hand come up to his face. His left index finger and thumb swipe over his closed eyelids, traveling to the inner corners of his eyes. His fingers then pinch the bridge of his nose. They stay there for a few moments as Quinn angles his gaze downwards though his eyes are shut.