We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) (6 page)

“Nah, I’m good.” Quinn cracked and rolled his neck. “I’ll get us to Sacramento. Then Selah can take over since she knows the area and it’s her brother’s apartment we’re going to.”

“You’re stuck next to me.” Gil gave me a small grin.

After we settled in the car, Selah passed me her giant cup of soda. “You still have lip balm around your nose,” she whispered.

I sighed and stole the napkin from around her soda to rub off the balm. There was no way he had been flirting with me. Not when I had a face full of goop. He’d been polite. Probably waiting for Lizzy and making random conversation.

His thigh pressed into mine in the small backseat. I scooted closer to Selah.

“Sorry,” he said and returned to staring out the window, shifting his legs closer to the door.

I don’t remember much of the rest of the drive. I focused too much on the heat from Gil next to me while trying to keep my breath even and normal. Luckily, Selah and Quinn took over the conversation. Resuming their list of hated words, they devolved into a conversation about their favorite swear words.

“When I was in third grade, my older brother Steve taught me how to flip people off.” Quinn shared. “Being four years older and in junior high, he was basically an adult in my eyes.”

“Wait, you have a brother named Steve and you got the name Quinn?” Selah asked.

“My mother was in a hippie phase when she was pregnant with me. Steven is named for my dad. I guess she picked up a baby book and found Quinn. It works for either a girl or a boy—it’s perfect for me.”

“I wish my parents were hippies. Selah was my grandmother’s name. It sounds like a grandmother.” She sighed.

“Try going through life as a Gilliam. Not William. No, spelled the same way but with a G instead of a W.”

“Where’d that name come from?” Lizzy asked.

“My father says it’s because of my mother’s fascination with maps and place names. I guess I’m lucky I’m not named Denver or Roswell.”

Lizzy glanced at me over her shoulder. “Elizabeth.”

“Margaret.” I smiled. We were sisters of the boring names. Whatever competition or insecurity I’d felt toward her over Gil disappeared. I wasn’t going to be one of those girls who put guys before their friends. Or allowed guys to come between friendships. Ever.

“Being born in the seventies, we’re lucky we weren’t named Goldenflower or Astronaut.” Secretly, I’d always wished for a weird name.

“No one would ever name their kids those names,” Gil scoffed.

“I went to elementary school with a boy named Apollo. After the spacecraft, not the deity. Or so he told us.” Lizzy laughed.

“Um . . .” Gil joined her laughter.

“Exactly.” She shook her head.

“Snatch,” Selah said out of nowhere.

Gil leaned around me and his back pressed against my shoulder. I was hyperaware of every point of contact between us.

“Excuse me? Is that someone’s name?” His eyes cut to mine.

I realized how close together our faces were. Too close. I sank into my seat.

“No, it’s another word people tend to dislike.” Selah sipped on her straw.

“Non sequitur, much,” Quinn said.

“We were talking about words and names, reminded me of the earlier conversation.”

“Speaking of earlier, we never finished my game. Selah, your turn. Who would you put in your sex hut?”

“Don’t I have to do the talking and listening huts first?”

“Let’s cut to the good stuff. Sex hut. And—go . . .”

“More than This” ~ Roxy Music

WHEN WE ARRIVED
at Selah’s brother’s apartment, it became clear there hadn’t been much communication between siblings. The tiny two-bedroom apartment had one bathroom and a futon in the living room. Each bedroom had a mattress on the floor.

Except her brother’s roommate was home. That hadn’t been the plan. We knew we’d be cramped. Instead of five of us, six including Gabe, the roommate and his girlfriend made it eight. With one bathroom.

Awkward conversation followed as we plotted out sleeping arrangements. Girls in one bedroom and boys in the other was no longer an option. Gabe offered to share his room with Gil and Quinn, leaving Selah, Lizzy, and me the one futon in the living room.

“I’ll take the floor,” I offered, tossing a sleeping bag on the questionable brown carpet. I wondered about the last time it had been vacuumed. Never was my guess. I moved my bag away from a constellation of crumbs.

“We can switch tomorrow night. Make the guys sleep out here.” Lizzy sniffed a throw pillow and dropped it back on the futon.

“Only if Gabe has fresh sheets. I grew up with the guy. Trust me, you don’t want to sleep in his bed. Or borrow his towel.”

I gave her a blank stare.

“Think about what teenage boys do when they’re alone.” She stared back.

Oh! “Oh.” Right. “Ew.”

“Exactly.”

Despite it being almost midnight, Gabe joined us in the living room, even offered us beer.

“Wow, you have Super Mario Bros? I kicked ass at this.” Gil held up the game cartridge. “Can we play?”

The guys played a few rounds on Gabe’s Nintendo. Selah set up Roxy Music’s Avalon on the stereo and we talked about the concert the next night, teasing Lizzy about her old man crush on Bryan Ferry.

“What’s the guy version of Mrs. Robinson?” Quinn set down his controller after he lost to Gil.

“Dirty old man?” I asked. “Pervert?”

“Chester the molester?” Selah quipped.

“Hugh Heffner,” Gil stated.

“Gross. Blech.” Lizzy shook her head in disgust.

“Hey, you’re the one with the older guy fetish.” Selah reminded her. “He’s got money, a huge house—”

“And a grotto, don’t forget the grotto,” Gabe interrupted.

Selah shot him a sidelong look. “Right, a grotto. Because everyone wants one of those. I wonder how often they have to adjust the chemicals in that water.”

“I hope they drain it weekly.” I shuddered. “Think of all the body fluids.”

“What are we even talking about?” Gil’s position as grand champion had been cemented after he defeated Gabe in their final match up. “Who else wants to play?” He scanned the room, his focus finally settling on me. “Maggie May? You haven’t played yet.”

“For good reason. I suck.”

“You can’t be that bad. Come on,” he patted the spot next to him on the carpet, “I’ll go easy on you.”

“I don’t need your pity. Play like you would anyone else.” I plopped down as delicately as I could, realizing the beer had gone to my head. “I’ll be Luigi.”

The game was a bloodbath. I went through all three of my lives in record time. And set a new bar for sucking, according to Gabe.

“See?” I tossed Gil my controller. My throw even sucked.

He tipped over to catch it behind him. “Okay, you were right. You are the worst player ever.” He laughed from his new reclined position. “Really, really terrible.”

He put his hand on my knee to right himself, giving it a squeeze. My breath caught in my throat as the heat from his palm pulsed under my skin.

“I’m sure you have other talents. We’ll have to discover them.”

Teasing or flirting, I wasn’t sure, but one thing I knew for certain, I was confused.

“
Je parle français
,” I declared.

“Well, that’ll be helpful if you ever go to France. Or Quebec.” He grinned at me, his hand still on my knee.

“Or I want to major in French Literature.”

“You do?” He sat up straighter.

I nodded. “Ever since I read
Madame Bovary
in high school.”

“Isn’t that the one where she killed herself with arsenic? Not very happy. Or uplifting.”

“Not everything ends with a happily ever after. Not even the fairy tales.”

“Who knew you were such a dark soul, Maggie May?”

“You keep calling me that.”

“It’s your new nickname. You like?” His warm eyes glinted with amusement.

I shrugged, covering my delight over him giving me a nickname. “I guess.”

The quiet of the room finally clicked. I glanced around. “Where’d everyone go?”

He kept his eyes trained on me. “Quinn and Gabe suggested a beer run before the store closed. Selah and Lizzy went with them. You missed all that?”

“I was concentrating on losing at video games, I guess.”

We sat quietly for a minute, kind of staring at each other, kind of not, before it began to feel awkward. There were a million things we could have talked about—more books, whatever Gil wanted to major in, video games, music—but nothing came to mind. The record ended and the soft sound of the needle circling the vinyl echoed in the room. A scratch would break up the white noise every few seconds as it spun under the needle.

The tension became too much. I jumped up at the same time Gil did, our heads knocking together.

“Ouch!” I rubbed my forehead.

“I was going to change the record.”

“Me too.” I peered up at him. He rubbed a small circle on the bridge of his nose.

“Who even has vinyl anymore? He should at least have this album on tape.”

“I think it’s cool. I have this one back on campus. On vinyl.”

“We’re going to need to make you a mixtape. You can’t travel with your record collection.” He flipped the album over and reset the needle.

“Like Quinn’s tapes for the road trip?”

“I’m thinking less Cher and more music made in this decade.”

“There was a lot of Cher and disco on the mix.”

“I need guitars and bass, fewer synthesizers.”

“Do you play?”

“I play bass. I was in a band with a couple of friends in high school.”

“Did you have gigs?”

“If playing in each other’s garages and at the rec club counts, then yes. We were rock stars.” He pushed his glasses up his nose.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious.

“We weren’t rock stars. Furthest thing from it, actually.”

“Why?”

“Besides being teenage boys? We sucked. We thought volume could cover up a lack of skill.”

“Turned your amps up to eleven?”

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared at me.

“What?” I rubbed my nose, thinking some old lip balm lingered on my skin.

“You quoted
This is Spinal Tap
.”

“I love that movie.”

“Marry me.” His words were hushed, reverent.

My turn to hold my breath.

He shifted to bend one knee. In his hand he held his game controller, presenting it to me as an offering.

Boisterous voices carried through the door, getting louder as our friends entered the apartment.

“And that’s when the alien tentacle—” Quinn stopped speaking abruptly. “Hey, what’s going on here? We leave you two alone for ten minutes and Gil’s showing off his joystick?”

I stared down at the controller in Gil’s hand. A hundred thoughts raced through my mind, most of them dirty, heating my cheeks again. When I peeked up at his face, his own skin appeared redder than it had been a few minutes ago. He quickly shifted and sat down farther away.

“Nothing. Maggie quoted
Spinal Tap
. Things got a little crazy.”

“
Right.
” Selah’s voice held zero belief. “
Spinal Tap
.”

“It’s a cult classic.” I defended our love of the same movie.

“Oh, I know it is. Funny, I don’t remember a proposal scene or any joysticks in the movie.”

“Who’s proposing?” Lizzy handed me a can and sat on the futon.

“No one. Nothing to see here.” Gil chugged the beer Gabe gave him.

Quinn’s focus bounced between us, doubt and judgment clearly evident in his squinty eyes. “Okay. We need a few rules. No one is getting together on this road trip. Certainly not with each other. Imagine the awkward drive back to campus. There’d either be groping and making out, and honestly, my car’s too small. Or the odor of regret and self-loathing would be worse than the gas station bathroom from hell. Deal?”

“I assume you are speaking to me, Quinn, since I’m the only hetero man here.” Gil scowled at his roommate. “Unless you are talking about the girls making out. Ladies?”

Selah sneered at him, jokingly of course. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Girls kissing is the white whale for hetero boys.”

Quinn laughed. “Someone make a
Moby Dick
joke for me! Come on, she lobbed one up there for us.”