Impractical (1)

19

He reached for her hand and she pulled away from him, walking herself into the kitchen and taking a seat at the table.  Brian moved to the fridge and grabbed an armful of bottled water before joining her, "I can explain --." He hummed again, hesitant to meet her angry eyes as he took a seat across from her. 

"You keep saying that, but I don't hear an explanation." She growled, placing the guitar pick on the table and crossing her arms over her chest, "Why is her perfume on your shirt?" 

"What?" He asked, his eyes widening for a moment. 

"You heard me," She growled, asking him, "Why?" 

He smelled his shirt and huffed, telling her, "She stopped by before you arrived," He shrugged, asking with a sigh, "You want the truth?" She sat silently, waiting for him to continue. A huff escaped his lips as he slouched in his seat, "She told me you were with James." 

"Like," He huffed uncomfortably, "With James." He stressed, looking down at the guitar pick as he continued, telling her, "She said you didn't want me anymore." 

Olivia remained silent as she watched him fidgeting on the opposite end of the table. She watched him shrug as he muttered, "She wanted me." 

"What did you do?" Olivia growled, her eyes narrowed at him as he looked up. 

"Nothing." He answered quickly, saying, "Nothing happened." 

"That's what you said last time." She watched as the color drained from his features, "Quinn, why are you lying to me?" 

"Nothing serious happened --." He hummed, shifting in his seat as his eyes dropped. 

"Why is her perfume on your shirt?" Olivia asked him once more, demanding, "Tell me the truth." 

"She kissed me." 

"She kissed you?" 

"Yes." He sighed, saying, "She kissed me, then I told her to leave." Olivia dug in her purse, placing the camera on the table in front of her, "Are you going to tell me what's on the camera?" He asked hesitantly, leaning back against the chair as he chugged a bottle of water.

"It's the nothing that happened Friday night," She muttered, avoiding his panicked eyes as she turned the technology on, sliding it toward him. 

She watched his reaction, paying close attention to how he cringed at the moment he pulled Curly back into him. His hand moved to cover his lips and he ran his fingers through his hair, sighing hesitantly, "Olivia, I'm so sorry --." 

"What are we?" She interrupted before he could continue with a meaningless apology. Her voice was shaking, her hands resting against her growing stomach beneath the table, "Why were you so quick to run to Curly when she got here? Don't lie to me again, Brian, I watched your eyes when you saw her." 

"What are we?" He asked frantically, exclaiming, "Exactly! I don't know." He took a deep breath, saying, "You've been avoiding me, and I don't know what to do." 

"It's been over a month since we slept together," Olivia told him forcefully, saying, "You haven't even called." 

"I called earlier and you sent me to voicemail." He argued, watching as she paused, "I left a message, you probably didn't even open it." 

"I never got a message." She hummed defensively as she pulled her phone from her purse, "There is no memory of a missed call on my phone." She argued, checking the history to see that there was no record of a call. 

"You were probably too busy cuddling with Murray on the couch," He growled, pulling his phone to show the outgoing call history. 

"I wasn't cuddling with Murray!" She stressed, showing him the screen, "I never got a call!"