Alex
*We can meet at my place on Saturday. 10AM. Thanks again for doing this for me.*
I stare at the text she sent me for the millionth time today. I’m sitting outside her apartment in my car. I’ve been sitting here for half an hour. I got here twenty minutes early, and I still haven’t been able to work up the nerve to knock on her door.
Can I do this?
I smirk when the lyrics to reaches my ears. He sings about faking it to keep up with people’s expectations of you, about keeping up appearances and hiding all your secrets and the words ring true. Quinn already knows more stuff about me than anyone else does. Well, besides Brant. And we’ve known each other for years before I finally got drunk and spilled my guts one night. He stuck around. But will Quinn?
When he starts singing about being secretly out of control, I smirk again and rub a hand down my face. She knows. She knew even before I let anything slip. She heard the nightmares. And she’s still here. But will she still be there when she knows everything? What is she going to ask? What if she wants to know why I can’t sleep at night? What if she asks why I’m always wearing a hat? What if she…
“Alex?” I jump at the sound of a knock on my car’s window.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Quinn looks sheepish as she bends down to peer in the window. Her face is red from the cold wind blowing outside. “You’ve been out here for a while, everything ok?”
She saw me?
“Yeah,” I plaster a smile on my face. “Yeah, everything’s good. Just had to take a call.” I say and wave the phone at her that is still clutched in my hand. She steps back when I pop my door and get out. We stand there beside my car, just staring at each other. Her face is turned up, something unreadable in her eyes like she’s trying to figure out how to tame a scared cat. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans and look away.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks. I hesitate for a moment and then paste that big fat fake smile back on my face and nod on a shrug like this is no big deal. Her head falls to the side.
“Well ok, then let’s get inside.”
I follow her into her apartment. Her friend with the pink hair is sitting on the coffee table with her legs crossed under her; palms turned up on her knees.
“Don’t mind Harlow, she’s meditating.” She waves a dismissive hand at her. “Would you like something to drink?” She asks when she turns back to me.
“Um, yeah… can you make more of that marshmallow stuff?”
“Sure,” her face lights up with that bright smile of hers and it’s infectious. I feel the warmth of it creep into me and my shoulders relax. “Come in the kitchen.” She leads me to the kitchen and takes two mugs from one of the cupboards. When she has a pot of milk on the stove, Noah comes in and slumps down into a chair at the table.
“Still no text?” Quinn asks. Noah gives a miserable shake of his head. “Boy problems,” She whispers to me.
“What?” I look at Noah. “Is someone not texting you back? How is that even possible?” He looks at me in surprise but quickly masks his expression.
“I know, right? I rocked that boy’s world last weekend, and I haven’t heard a word since. Wait, that’s a lie. I texted him to see if he wanted to get together again and he replied with ‘sure.’ What does that even mean?” He throws his hands up in exasperation.
“Right.” I nod. “I mean, look at you!” I gesture towards him. “You look like a young James Dean. All that broody hotness. Who wouldn’t be into all of that? Either this guy is blind, or he’s playing games. Have you done the Instagram fake-out?”
“Instagram fake-out?” he repeats and blinks at me.
“Yeah man, where you post a picture of you and someone else and see if he texts you then?” I see a glimmer of hope in his eyes, and then it fades.
“He’ll know I’m faking. He already knows all the guys I hang out with.”
“Well, he doesn’t know me.” I go to sit beside him and grab his phone. “Come on, let’s show that guy what’s up.” I turn on his camera. “Wait, shirt on or off?”
Noah’s eyes grow big. “Definitely off,” he says while nodding.
“Noah!” Quinn chides him.
“What?” Noah shrugs his shoulders and gestures to me “He offered.” I reach behind me and pull my hoodie and shirt off.
“Sweet baby Jesus, could I get one of just you for my spank bank?” Noah leers at me and I pop my pecs at him.
“Oh, my god. Noah!” Quinn chides again.
“Fine,” he says and rolls his eyes. “Just one of the two of us then.” I adjust my beanie before I reach an arm around his shoulders and we smile at the camera. He snaps a couple of pictures and then, selecting the best one, he sends it to Instagram. I look to where Quinn is busy with the milk, but her eyes are on my chest. When she sees I’ve caught her I smirk at her and then that familiar flush creeps up her neck.
“What should the caption be?” Noah breaks the tension between us. I put my shirt and hoodie back on before answering.
“What about,” I pause to rub my chin as I think. “What about ‘The morning after the big night before.’ That way you make it obvious you’re not hanging around waiting for his ass to call.”
“Perfect,” Noah sings and starts typing.
Quinn gives us each a mug of hot chocolate before coming to sit down with us. I can’t help the hum of pleasure that escapes me when I get that first taste of sugary, creamy goodness. She smiles at me and then everything is quiet again. I stare at her face, my eyes flicking between her eyes and her mouth. Those plump pink lips. I lick my own and wonder for the millionth time what they taste like. I feel my cock come to life in my jeans and then look away, clearing my throat.
Noah’s phone starts vibrating on the table, and he grabs at it. His face lights up with a smile as he opens the text. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe that worked. He wants to know if we can hang tonight.”
“Of course, it worked,” I smirk at him. “But, I don’t know if you need to be spending any time on someone who doesn’t spend any time on you,” I say this while looking at Quinn. She looks down uncomfortably. Good, she understood. “I mean if the only way you can get this guy to text you is by playing games, I think you can do better.”
Noah considers me for a second and then I see determination spread across his face. “You’re fucking right.” He nods. “Dick is dick is dick. Easily replaceable. I’ll wait a few hours and then let him know I’m too busy.” He grabs his cup and phone and gets up. “Well, you kids have fun,” He says before leaving the kitchen.
“Thank you for doing that,” Quinn whispers. “You didn’t have to.”
“No big.” I shrug. Because it wasn’t.
“So, want to head to my room and get started?”
“Thought you’d never ask,” I say and wiggle my eyebrows. She rolls her eyes and smiles, but I don’t miss the glint in her eye.
I take my cup and follow her into her room. I look around the space. Everything is in different shades of baby blue with a few accents of white and black. There are two picture frames on a shelf above her desk. One is of her and her mom, the other of her and Erik. I glance at her and when I see she’s busy clearing things off her bed, I flip the one of her and Erik on its face.
“So, uh...” I turn to look at her. She crosses her arms. Brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Crosses her arms again. Lets them hang at her sides. Crosses them again. Clears her throat and then gestures around the room. “You can just sit anywhere.” She’s nervous about having me in her room. I smile at her and take a seat on her bed. I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees while I watch her take a seat at the desk. She takes a notebook from the desk and flips around to look for a page. Finding it, she takes a pair of black rimmed glasses from the desk and perches them on her nose.
“You wear glasses,” I state the obvious like an idiot.
“Oh, yeah,” she smiles at me and shrugs. “Kinda nerdy, I know.”
“They look hot on you.” I smirk at her. She bites her lip and blushes. Fucking adorable.
“Ok so, shall we get started?” she says, shaking us both back to reality. I shrug and nod.
“Guess so.” I mumble at the floor.
“I have some questions here,” she lifts a printed sheet from her notebook. “If you’re uncomfortable with answering any of these, you can just let me know, and we can skip over it.” She smiles at me, and I rub at the warmth spreading in my chest.
“I already told you, I’ll answer anything you ask.” Something passes in her eyes; I barely catch it before she looks down and clears her throat.
“Okay, first question. Can you tell me about your family? Let’s start with your mom and dad. I know you mentioned foster homes before so, uh, does that mean your parents…”
“Dead?” I finish the sentence for her.
“I was going to say out of the picture,” she says softly.
“Out of the picture,” I laugh. “Well, they definitely don’t care about me making curfew.” I laugh again but she’s doesn’t return it.
She bites her lip. “Alex, I thought you were going to be honest. This isn’t going to work if you won’t give me straight answers.” I sigh and look down at the floor again. “You don’t have to pretend here. Nobody will know this is about you.”
“You’ll know,” I mumble.
“I’m not going to judge you on any of the answers you give me.” I look up to meet her eyes.
“Aren’t you?” She shakes her head at me.
“These are just questions for me to write up a profile on your history and to use that to draw conclusions on how it affects you now. I’m not here to decide whether you’re good or bad, or worthwhile,” she looks down at her notebook. “I already know you are.”
I blink at her dumbly, not sure I heard her correctly. I get up of the bed and flex my fists. I go to stand in front of a poster on her bedroom wall. It’s a black and white picture of puppies.
“My mom died when I was eight. Never knew my dad. I don’t even know his name. No idea if he’s dead or not.” I open and close the zipper on my hoodie and sit back down.
“And that’s when you went into the foster system?” She asks after scribbling something in her notebook. I pick at an invisible piece of lint on my jeans and then clasp my hands together.
“No, I was in and out before that.” She looks at me expectantly, so I sigh and explain. “She was a drug addict. I was in the system before then, until she got herself straightened out and they gave me back. But then she’d get back on the spoon, and I’d have to leave again.” I take my beanie off and run a hand through my hair before I place it back on my head.
“Were you close during the times she was sober?” I shrug, not because I don’t want to answer because I don’t know the answer.
“I don’t know.” I get up and go to look out the window. “I guess so.” I don’t have many memories of her being sober. All I know is that I was never important enough to her to make her stay that way.
“How did she die?” I crack my neck and rub my palms down my thighs.
“I thought she was sleeping, but I couldn’t wake her up. So, I went to get a neighbor, and they said she was dead. OD.” She’s quiet for a long time, but I can’t look at her.
“Do you have any other siblings?”
I shake my head and take the cup of hot chocolate from where I left it on her desk. I take a sip and put it back down. It’s not hot anymore.
Quinn rifles through a pile of books on her desk. “Here,” she says, handing me a notebook and a pen. “You’re fidgeting. You can doodle in there if it helps.” I take them from her, happy to find something for my hands to do. I open to a page and start drawing random circles on it.
“So, no other family at all?” I shake my head again as I continue scribbling in the notebook.
“Was there anyone else you were close to while growing up?”
“There was a neighbor at one of the homes I was in. George. He was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a dad.” I smile when I remember him. “He taught me about cars. I used to go there after school, and he’d let me help him fix the cars.”
“Is that why you like cars so much?” I shrug.
“Do you still have contact with him?”
“No,” I say and start doodling a car on the page. “I had to leave that home.”
“Why?”
“Is that a question on the questionnaire?” I sound annoyed. I don’t want to answer that question.
“No, I’m sorry. I was just curious.” She looks down at her page again. “Let’s skip over this stuff for now and move to something else.” I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Are there any times where you feel unnecessarily scared or overly fearful?” The pen freezes in my hand, and my body goes cold. This question isn’t any better than the last.
“Alex,” she says softly, it’s almost a whisper. “You don’t have to answer.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“I get scared when I’m alone especially at night when it’s dark and quiet I can’t deal with the quiet on my own, and I can’t fall asleep when I’m alone sometimes I’m so tired that I do, but then I only get a couple of hours before the nightmares get me.” The words fall out of my mouth in one long run-on sentence. I take a shaky breath when I finish. I brave a glance at her, but her eyes are on the page. I watch as she swallows and then bites her lip.
“Do you know the reason?” She looks up at me. I think I see apprehension in her eyes before she blinks, and it’s gone.
“I... my mom used to lock me in a cupboard when I was too noisy or asked too many questions. Sometimes she’d forget me in there.” I say over the lump in my throat. From the corner of my eye, I see Quinn’s hand move from the page up to her head to smooth down her hair.
“Alex,” she takes a breath. “Does anyone else know this?”
“Brant knows some of it.”
“Nobody else?” I shake my head but don’t say the words.
“Why?”
“They’ll just use it against me. People do that. They find your weakness and pick at it. It’s better if they don’t know. People treat you better when they don’t know your secrets.”
“You don’t have any friends besides Brant?”
“I have lots of friends.” I smirk at her, trying to break the tension my words created.
“I mean, real friends. Ones you can talk to?”
“I have Brant. He doesn’t leave when I mess up.” I realize I’ve fucked up the moment the words leave my mouth.
“You think the people who left you left because you messed up?” Of course, that’s why but I don’t say that. I throw the notebook on her bed and get up.
“Can we…” I take my beanie off and smooth down my hair again before putting it back. “Can we stop?” My voice sounds shaky. Weak. Pathetic.
“Sure,” she puts her pen and notebook down. “You need a haircut.” She smiles up at me, but her face sobers when she sees my expression. I look down to the floor.
“Is that what you like?” She blinks at me, not understanding. “Guys with short hair? Like… like Eric?”
She shrugs. “I don’t really have a preference.” I know she’s just trying to avoid answering me. She wouldn’t have said anything about my hair if it didn’t bother her.
“I should go,” I say and make my way to her door.
“Alex,” my hand freezes on the door when she calls my name. “You don’t have to leave. We can hang out here. Harlow says there’s a zombie movie we just have to see.”
“No,” I don’t look at her. “I have stuff to do.” I keep my answer short, so my voice doesn’t betray the prickling behind my eyes. “See you,” I say and leave her room. I don’t look up as I leave the apartment and rush to my car. I’m halfway around the block when I let out my first breath. I turn up the music in my car until it hurts my ears, needing it to drown out everything else. is playing, but it’s not helping. Instead, it’s only highlighting everything that’s wrong in this moments.
I slam on the breaks when I spot a barber shop to my left. The car behind me honks and speeds past me but I don’t care.
“Don’t think about it, just do it,” I say to myself and pull into a parking spot right in front of it. I step out of my car before I can change my mind and enter the shop. There’s a middle-aged lady and older man sitting in their chairs. They look up when I enter. “Can I get a haircut?”
“Sure, honey.” The lady says as she stands up. “Come take a seat and tell me what we’re doing with you.” I sit down in her chair and take my beanie off. She places a cape around my shoulders and looks at me in the mirror.
“I just need it shorter,” I say.
“You’re not kidding, honey. It looks like someone took a pair of garden shears to your head. Who cut this?” I don’t answer her. I cut my own hair. I’ve always cut my own hair, and I’ve never cared what it looks like. It’s always hidden under a hat anyway.
She shakes her head when she realizes I’m not about to give her an answer. I swallow and swallow again. But I can’t get the lump in my throat to go down. All I see is my mom hitting me on the head over and over, screaming at me about how stupid and annoying I am. Her hands change to those of the other kids I’ve had to live with throughout my life. Once they figured out I had issues with people touching my head that’s all they’d do. I’d become the little kid who was the butt of all their jokes and pranks. I closed my eyes against the images of them hitting me in the head, pulling my hair, throwing things at my head. My eyes shoot open when I hear the buzz of the clippers. My heart is beating out of my chest as her hands get closer.
I shove her hand away and stand up, ripping the cape off me. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” I dig out ten bucks from my pocket and shove it at her. “I’m sorry,” I say again and grab my beanie before I practically run back to my car.
I press my foot down on the pedal when I’m back on the road, weaving in and out of lanes as I pass cars and run over amber lights. I don’t stop until I’m back at the frat. I screech into a parking space and run up to my room. Changing into sweats and a t-shirt I hurry downstairs to the gym in the basement. I let the sounds of fill my ears. The music and words are taking over as I start running on the treadmill. But I can’t run fast enough. Can’t run long enough. I give up and move to the heavy punching bag. I punch and grunt and punch and punch and punch until I’m exhausted and the sweat is dripping from me, but still I can’t find peace. I let out a frustrated scream and leave the gym.
I grab a clean set of sweats and a t-shirt and make my way to the bathroom. I rip off my sweaty clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water beat down on me. I stay there waiting for the water to calm my erratic heartbeat. I punch the tiled wall in frustration when it doesn’t. Fuck this. There’s only one thing that’s going to work right now. I get dressed and grab my car keys from my room.
Once I’m inside my car I look for the song I’m looking for. fills the car as I pull out of the parking lot. I let her words wash over me. She’s right. I haven’t come too far to get here and lose. And I’m going to make sure Quinn realizes that tonight. As soon as I get to her building, I jump out of the car, not bothering to switch it off or even close my door.
“Quinn!” I holler her name as I bang on her door. “Open up.” The door flies open and she’s standing there, her eyes wide.
“Alex, what’s wrong?”
My chest is heaving, and I take a breath to calm down. “You want to know about me? The real me?”
“Alex, I…” she stops short and then looks back over her shoulder before looking back at me. She nods.
“Come with me.”