The Quirky Tale of April Hale (Quirky Series #1)

2.31: the management of feeling

Q U E N T I N

The night it happened, Quentin was enjoying a quality 'me-time'.

Which meant that he needed his room to be dark, his lotion to be green-tea scented, and his hands to be absolutely clean.

Ah, the joy of having your own house.

He was having a great time. He had never made it a habit to clean anything. His mother had been a clean-freak and whenever he had been compelled to brush something, everything was already squeaky and shiny.

This time, though, he had his own home, and he had his own leather collection.

And he always loved cleaning his leather collection with his favorite green-tea lotion.

He never told this to anyone. It was too embarrassing. For a football player like him, it was also a good move to have an exagerrated image of masculinity. It was not right for them to cook or sew or, God help him, take pleasure in any activity that indicated any kind of femininity.

But oh, Quentin loved his place to be clean and orderly and neat. So, every Friday night, after a full day of grueling on the field with his 'bros', Quentin would have a quiet time just for himself in his apartment. To clean his leather collection without being judged.

And it had always been the one thing that kept his sanity. When he had started to realize that his exgirlfriend Audra had been a psycho bitch, he had bought a few leather accessories and cleaned them vigorously thrice a week. It had dulled his temper and given him a much-needed sense of order.

Tonight, though, was different.

It was three in the morning, and Quentin was smiling at his new leather strap for his new watch.

And that was when he felt it.

The feeling came like a meteor, and it hit Quentin internally. Quentin gasped in the dark, and then he cursed because he almost dropped his beloved strap. The sensation that had hit him was fleeting, but nevertheless powerful.

Instantly, Quentin knew.

Fuck, he thought, my sister had just had sex.

He took a shower, because the notion that had just hit him scared him shitless, and then he cleaned his leather collection once more, and by the time he finished, the whole room smelled like green-tea and soap.

Fuck, he thought again, I hope it's not with that bastard Ryder.

But instinctively... he knew.

He knew.

Sometimes he hated this 'sibling telephathy' shit.

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2.31: the management of feeling

"So you two got back together."

I tilted my head as Bella's words sunk deep inside my ear canals. I tried to decipher what she was trying to say behindthose words (something that neurotypical people do that I still couldn't quite catch on).

"Can you repeat the words, only with a more definite punctuation? I have a hard time deciding how to answer."

"Likewise, sister," Bella sipped at her tea, which from the smell of it, had been mixed with some kind of alcohol. It was how she got through mornings without breaking down. "I'm still deciding whether I'm using a question mark or an exclamation mark."