The Truth of the Matter

13. You Can't Eat Just One Chip

I made it two weeks. I begged for advice from my colleagues. I wrote lists. I made mind maps. I wrote out possible consequences. Molly hid my phone. I found it. I wrote out texts and deleted them. I employed the help of bedside table drawer Henry. Finally, I gave in and quit fighting myself.

I texted him two simple words

"Come over."

He was there within the hour holding a bottle of my favorite brand of rosé. There were no pleasantries, as soon as he opened the front door, I jumped on top of him. He pulled my hair roughly, wrist deep in the tangles; our lips crushing into each other with unbridled lust.

"Quinn...You don't have to do this" I cautioned him as I whipped off my shirt and tugged his belt through the loops. I pushed him against our entryway desk and dropped to my knees in front of him.

Molly was gone all weekend, I had no restrictions.

"I know I don't have to, I want to. Oh wow..." he whispered appreciatively, gripping the edge of the desk.

We didn't leave my room for the day and most of the night. I touched every inch of his body with my tongue and my hands. Relearning. He was a delicacy. Our bodies fit together perfectly, both of us comfortable in our own skin. Sex and talking. Sex and naps. Sex and reading. Sex and ice cream.

He left the next morning, leaving me sated and pleasantly sore. I would like to say that it didn't happen again, that we exercised self control but we didn't. The aching in my chest returning each time he was with me. I don't know what I was after when we were together, the physical companionship or the heart flutters that he gave me.

But I kept it up, because the pain felt better than nothing. The hurt that accompanied the idea of possible love was better than keeping up the facade that I was better off alone or with someone else who wasn't worthy of my time.

——————
December 2014 Quinn POV

"Happy Christmas! About time you invite us out for a visit" my best friend Jack greeted me in my doorway, pulling me into a warm embrace.

I had been best friends with Jack and his younger brother George since we were children. They ran a bookstore and coffee house in downtown London, specializing in rare books and fair trade coffee. Quality of life and enjoyment of its activities while helping your fellow humans, not living well at their expense. Because of their understanding of this, the business was thriving.

"You were welcome anytime. I'm flattered you enjoy my presence so much that you're willing to cross the ocean for it" I snarked drily.

"Your mum is pissed that you're staying here for Christmas, she was at the shop a few days ago. Told me to give you a right amount of guilt" George spoke up from behind, setting down the suitcases with a thud, long sandpaper colored hair falling out of his ponytail.

"Oh yeah, she was pissed. I didn't even charge her for the coffee that she ordered because she kind of frightened me" Jack grimaced, giving a faux shudder at the thought of my mom's potential rage at not seeing her son.

I sighed. I didn't want to fly for Christmas. I wanted to stay in my modest, one bedroom apartment with its crown moldings and granite countertops. I wanted to sit in my comfy chair with the pile of books that I had been meaning to read towering beside me. I wanted to drink hot tea and eat Christmas cookies by the gross. I did not want to go through customs, squeeze into a too tight airplane seat next to a too friendly person, and drink too expensive alcohol.

My mom would get to see me this summer. I just couldn't muster up the gumption to leave the city this year. Which was why I was excited when George and Jack asked to visit me. This was their first time in America, and we were going to make it worthwhile.