Quinn

It’s a total fucking waste of my time to go back inside and ream my brothers for what they did, but I’m so frustrated that any outlet will do. I barge through the doors and march to their table ready to salt the earth and poison the wells.

Or something more fitting when the assholes in question are my own fucking brothers.

“I can’t believe you,” is the only thing I can manage.

“Dude, so she’s upset,” Tate says. “Who cares? Chicks do that. Give her a couple of days, show up on her doorstep with a few dozen roses or whatever you can afford, and tell her you’re sorry. No matter what she says, you just nod along and agree with her. If she doesn’t say anything and doesn’t even want to see you, do that thing where you make her think she’s totally in control.”

“Tell her the ball is in her court,” Killian offers.

Derek is the only one who shares in my outrage. “Y’all, shut the fuck up. Look, man, we’re sorry. That wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go down.”

“The hell it wasn’t,” Tate says. “He came in here with fucking blasphemy about reneging on a bet. This shit is sacred. It’s the one thing that binds us together-an appreciation for the finer points of bets and brotherly profiteering.”

“You sound like a complete jackass,” I snap at him. “I actually liked that girl. Wasn’t the point of this fucking bet for me to find someone? I fucking did. And you guys chased her away.”

Sheila yawns, which is when I notice she’s still here. I ignore her.

“Quinnie, she’ll get over it. And if she doesn’t, screw her. Plenty of fish out there.”

“But only one swan,” Sheila says. “So, you take a girl home only because your brothers talk you into it but when the truth comes out, you have plenty of blame to dole out on everyone except yourself? Please.”

“You didn’t have to come here,” Killian says. “You could’ve gone to any other restaurant in town. The moment you set foot inside that door, you knew this was bound to happen.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, don’t tell me to fuck myself. One, is that supposed to offend me? You know I’m all about getting in touch with myself and my feelings. Two, you know all of this. You’re spouting your anger off on the rest of us, but if you took a minute to really think about it, you’d see you have no one to blame but yourself. The good news is we’re all here and we can drink the troubles away. Grab a chair,” Killian says.

“Dude, we’re sitting in a booth,” Tate counters. “And we’re in a diner. If you want to drink milkshake, God fucking bless you, but if you want to get hammered, you’re confusing this with the other place that starts with an M. Repeat after me: Moe’s for the milk, Marty’s for the malt.”

Killian flips him the bird. The conversation devolves into their usual bullshit and I’m left standing on the outside, seething.

For all their faults, Killian and Tate have a point: I can’t point the finger at anyone but myself. My mouth is dry and my appetite gone, so I make a go for the door.

“Quinn!” Derek shouts. “Don’t go, man. Let’s buy you a round of, uh, strawberry milkshakes and then go back to Marty’s. You can lean on us.”

“Yeah, bro, lean on us,” Tate apes. “We are here for you. If you want to share, we’re all ears. Don’t let it fester because you know what they say: emotional wounds become black holes in the soul.”

“What do I need to do for you to shut the fuck up?” Derek yells. “Quinn is obviously…”

I’m out the door before I can hear another word of their little jokes and games. It isn’t funny. Not any of it. And I might not be able to level accusations at them without looking to myself first, but I also don’t have to stay and listen when they mocked, and all but kicked, the girl I like.

More than like. I can’t say the word. I can’t even think it. It’s too crazy and too soon, and now that she’s gone, it’s also too late.

I get in my car and speed home. There’s work in the morning. I groan at the thought of having to explain to my manager why I bailed today without giving them any notice. There’s still a lot of cache attached to the image of golden football star, Quinn Cooper. I won’t get fired.

There will be a considerable amount of grunt work waiting for me, though.

My car door slams after me and I stalk my way inside. The house is in complete disarray. Around every corner lurks a reminder of what happened here this afternoon. Of the newcomer who wouldn’t show her face again.

Just get yourself a beer and give up on trying to make sense of what happened.

Not once in my life have I fucked up this badly with a girl. It’s just the turn of my luck that it would happen when I stand to lose so much.

You already lost, asshole.

For the longest time, I sit on the couch and go over the highlight reel of this colossal clusterfuck. My thoughts are only interrupted by the knock on the door.

Abby?

Was she going to give me a chance to explain myself?

“Quinn, open up!” Sheila’s shrill voice calls. “I want to talk to you.”

Is the man in charge getting off on this?

“Sheila, I don’t have to tell you that I don’t want to see you in the best of circumstances. And I certainly don’t have any time for you right now,” I reply, not bothering to get up from the couch.

“Quinn, please,” she says. “I’m really sorry about what happened. I want to make it up to you.”

I take a swig of my beer. “Go sell your snake oil to someone else.”

“Are we going to continue to have this conversation through a door? Come on, we go way back. Open up.” She pounds against the wood frame again and again, until I’m left with no choice but to haul my ass so she can see I mean business.

“Sheila,” I say as soon as I open the door, “let’s get one thing clear. We do go way back but you ruined any chance of us getting back together when you hooked up with Scott Mercer. Anyone could’ve told you he would throw you away the minute he got word that my scholarship was going to him-never mind that, it happened a mere seconds later. You were just a taste of what wearing my shoes would mean for him. So he got to have a go at my girlfriend, then he got to take my place in college, and he’ll likely go on to have the career I thought would be mine.”

To her credit, she brushes my snide comment off. “You have to forgive me about Scott Mercer. We were young and we were stupid. I really regret that.”

“I don’t think I could’ve forgiven you even if you weren’t the biggest bitch to ever walk the earth.” I spit on the ground and it lands right next to her. “I don’t want to ever see you again.”

“How long are you going to keep this charade going?” she asks. “You and I were meant to be. We will be. Whether you like it or not. You try it out with these other girls and when it invariably goes badly, I know you start thinking about me. But your fragile ego can’t handle the idea of forgiving your girlfriend for a mistake she made when she was seventeen. Seventeen, Quinn.”

“That mistake you made turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It saved me from having to suffer through that joke of a relationship.” I point inside, and she steps forward like it’s an invitation. “No. That was just me telling you I’m going back to my spot on the couch. You can stay here for as long as you want, but I’m telling you, you’re wasting your breath. Go bother someone else.”

“What did that little skank let you do in bed? Did she allow you to use her every which way? Is that it?”

I swing the door back open again and let the can of beer I’m holding fall to the ground. “What did you say?”

“That has to be it. You’re pussy whipped by the fatty because she compensated for her lack of status by letting you do all sorts of depraved things to her. Admit it.”

I know Sheila. I know she’s only baiting me because it gives her more face time with me. When things turn against her, she doubles down and goes for the kill. It’s the same thing she did to me when I broke up with her after finding out about Scott Mercer. Even with all of that, I snap.

“What did you say?” I ask again, lunging forward. It’s a false step, one that makes me lose my balance. I fall to the ground and land on my bad knee. “Fuck!”

“Quinn, oh God, I’m so sorry!” Sheila shouts. “Oh my God, what do I do?”

“Help me get up.” I pant, trying to rise above the searing pain.

“Here, lean on my shoulder. Let’s get you up.”

Sheila kneels and wraps her arms around me. Using her legs to put her weight behind pulling me up, she and I grunt together and progress at a snail’s pace until I’m back on two feet.

“Thank you,” I say. “I need to ice that knee. And I really need to be alone.”

“Are you sure?” For the first time maybe ever, there’s no hint of trickery in her eyes. “I can stay and help you. Or I can take you to the hospital.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I have some painkillers. This happens. If it hurts after a week, I’ll go see Dr. Morgan.”

“Quinn, please.” Tears well up in her eyes. “I really want a second chance. I’m sorry I was such a bitch before. I just can’t believe we’re over. You know we were meant to be together. Everyone said so.”

“Sheila, it doesn’t matter what everyone said back then,” I say as gently as I can muster through the sharp twinge. “I’m in love with Abby. I know you don’t get it. I know we only just met. It’s real. It was, anyway. And you and I never had that. I sincerely wish you the best of luck. I just don’t think there’s anything I can do or offer you.”

Sheila’s lower lip quivers. “So, this is it?”

“You and I ended a long time ago.”

I shut the door behind me and go draw a hot bath. How long she stays out there is anyone’s guess. I have nothing left to say to her.