Wings Over Poppies (Over #2) (10 page)

“
6’2
” by Marie Miller

“SO, I’M GOING to ask you a series of rapid fire questions to test our compatibility. No first date is complete without a lightning round, don’t you agree?” Quentin’s blue eyes sparkle with laughter as I shrug shyly and giggle. They’re light and cheerful, in direct contrast with the dark and brooding eyes from my past.

Just let it go, Alex.

“Totally agree.” I stretch my neck from side to side and crack my knuckles in preparation. “I’m ready. Do your worst!”

“Night owl or early riser?”

“Night owl, definitely.”

“Sand or snow?

“Sand, but not in the crack of my ass.”

“No, no. Just answers, no explanations.”

“Sorry.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“A girl with something to hide. Interesting.”

“No, no. Just questions, no commentary.”

“Touché. Romantic comedy or action movie?

“Romantic comedy … sorry, I’m hopeless.” I shrug apologetically.

“You’re forgiven. I’ve been known to watch a rom-com every once in a while, but don’t tell anyone. It’ll fuck with my street cred.”

“I wouldn’t want to do that. I’d hate for you to lose the respect of your posse.”

“Don’t play, girl. I’m deep in the streets.”

I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face if my life depended on it. I met Quentin at a Northern University art exhibit last week. He argued that the fruit display was more aesthetically pleasing than ninety percent of the art on display. I argued that his brain must not be developed enough to appreciate true beauty. His response?

“Hmmm. What does that say about you, since I find you truly stunning?”

I didn’t hesitate when he asked me to meet him for drinks. A handsome man with a snarky sense of humor? Yes, please. To say I have bad dating juju would be the understatement of the century. I need a win in my corner. Quentin has proven to be a victory thus far.

Sparkling blue eyes and blond waves that brush his shoulders?

Check.

Sexy five o’clock shadow and biceps that have his shirtsleeves stretching to their limits?

Check
.

A smart sense of humor, throaty laugh, and interest in something other than himself?

Check, check, and check
.

Did I feel fireworks and butterflies when he placed his hand on my lower back and led me to our table? Nah, but that’s not the end of the world. I feel a relaxed friendship, and that’s something I can build upon. I like our back and forth, and I silently wish he’ll ask to see me again at the end of the night. In the past, fireworks and butterflies have left me shattered, so I will myself to enjoy the moment.

“Do I get a turn with the lightning round? I need to see if you make the cut,” I joke good-heartedly.

Quentin’s eyes focus on the entrance, and recognition flashes in his eyes. His back visibly stiffens, and he immediately slides his bar stool closer to mine.

“Not now, babe. Maybe in a little while,” he replies absently and places a firm grip on my upper thigh.

What. The. Fuck.

“Quen, what’s up, man?”

Two men approach us, and Quentin nods his head in acknowledgment. The dark-haired guy scans the room and pays little attention to us. The other one, who I silently nickname Mr. Redneck Romeo, shakes hands with Quentin while he creepily surveys me from head to toe. Something about this guy screams douche.

“What’s up, bra?” Quentin says in a strange, deep voice while rubbing my thigh possessively.

That’s not Quentin’s voice. He’s deepened it to sound like a ‘roided out juicehead.
What the hell?
The guy who I’ve been with all night would not molest me in public and use words like “bra.”

“So who’s this little hottie? Introduce me.”

“This is my date, Alex. Alex, this is my roommate, Buck.”

I regretfully offer my hand to Buck and try my best to keep my disgust in check. Anyone who can make my very promising date turn into this asshole in front of me is not someone I want to know.

“Very nice to meet you,” I say stiffly as I try to pry my hand out of his hot, sweaty grip.

“The pleasure is all mine, baby. I’m gonna find my own little hottie, so I’ll catch y’all later. Quentin, I won’t wait up tonight, dude,” he says with a knowing chuckle.

Quentin chuckles back, runs his eyes up my body, and then smirks at Buck. I’m not sure what’s changed in the last five minutes, but my night has taken a swift nosedive. My bad dating run is obviously still in full effect.

“Take me home. Now,” I say stiffly as I pick up my purse and remove his hand from my leg.

“I had a really good time tonight, Alex,” Quentin says with an apologetic smile.

“I wish I could say the same. I thought we were having a great time … and then your roommate showed up, and you turned into an asshole. What was that about, Quentin?”

He shuffles his feet nervously and shoves his hands in his pockets. It’s obvious he’s ashamed of himself, but I can’t figure out why he’d act that way.

“I’m sorry. That’s not me. That’s not who I am. Buck … he brings out the worst in me. Why don’t you invite me in, and we could, I don’t know, talk about it or something?”

His eyes are hopeful, and I just don’t get it. He has to know this is going nowhere.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry, Quentin. Good night.” I turn to the front door, key in hand. He grabs my shoulder and turns me back to him.

“Wait, Alex, please. Just let me come in for a little while. I can’t go home yet. Please.” His eyes plead with me, and I can sense his desperation.

“I’m not letting you in, Quentin. What the hell is going on?” My eyes narrow in question.

“If I’m home when Buck gets home, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He tosses his hands up in frustration.

Why would Buck care what time Quentin made it home? Unless he wanted him to think … surely Quentin isn’t trying to imply…

I flush with anger at my sudden realization. “You little jerk! You’re trying to ‘Anthony Michael Hall’ me!”

“What? I don’t know what that is,” Quentin stammers as he backs away.

“
Sixteen Candles
, you dickhead! You want to show Buck my polka-dotted panties!”

“I have no interest in your panties, Alex. I swear.”

“But you do want to make it look like we’re having sex. Don’t even try to deny it! And why don’t you have any interest in my panties?” I cross my arms and narrow my eyes at him. I’m getting to the bottom of this. “Oh shit, are you trying to use me as your beard?”

“My beard? What the hell are you talking about? I’m not fucking gay!” His posture changes from retreating to menacing in an instant.

I place my hand on Quentin’s arm and squeeze gently, giving him a slight smile. “Look, I don’t care if you’re gay. What I care about is the fact that you have no problem having pretend-sex with me to impress Buck, the Redneck Romeo. How do you think that makes me feel? You need to leave Quentin. And maybe you should find friends who like you just the way you are.”

Quentin rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Alex, but I don’t need your afterschool special advice. You are so fucking clueless.”

“If you ever need a friend, Quentin, give me a call,” I whisper as I walk through the door and softly close it behind me.

“How was the hot date?” Holly sounds excited to dish, and I wish I had good news for her.

After all of these years, Holly and I are close as ever. Even when I lived in New York, I would give her the play by play of my dates. Unfortunately, my misadventure sounds like a bad sitcom, getting progressively worse with each passing day.

“He tried to ‘Anthony Michael Hall’ me,” I confess as I slip out of my dress.

“That asshole! I hope you delivered the swift kick to the balls that he deserved.”

“Actually, I feel kind of bad for him. I think he’s gay, and if I had to guess, his roommate is a raging homophobe. I only met him for a brief second, but he seemed like a huge ignoramus.”

“Only you would take up for this guy, Alex. What am I going to do with you?”

“You think you’re exasperated? I’m living this shit.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “The truly terrible thing is that if he hadn’t screwed it up, I would have found something wrong with him anyway. You know I always do. No man ever measures up to the memories. Will I ever stop thinking about him, Holly?”

“I don’t know, babe. It’s been years … why don’t you do a little looking? You never know what you might find, right?” She sounds hopeful, but I don’t miss the hint of sadness in her voice.

“I’ve written him hundreds of letters, Holly.
Hundreds
. I’m sure I crashed his inbox with emails, and I’ve never heard one single word in return.” I shut my eyes and sit on the edge of my bed, my shoulders slumped in defeat. “And then there’s always a chance that he … that I can’t…”

“You don’t know that, Alex.”

“No, but that could be reality. Can I deal with that truth?”

“Can you deal with the uncertainty? The not knowing? It always comes back to him. Every. Time. It been years, and you haven’t moved on from this. You need to do this for you, not for him. You have to face this head on, Alex. It’s time.”

It’s hard to imagine going down this path. I never heard from West after he left for the military, but I learned of his deployment to Iraq from his golf buddies at the club. When I returned home from New York, his friends were graduated and gone, and his old house had a FOR RENT sign in the yard. My broken heart wouldn’t allow me to search any further. Why should I comb the world looking for West when he couldn’t be bothered to return one of my emails?

“I’ll think about it, Holly. That’s the best I can do right now.”

“Good. I’m here for ya, babe. Anything you need.” Holly pauses for a moment before continuing, “Look, Ryan and I are having a barbeque next weekend. You should come. It would be good for you to catch up with some old friends.”

I know Holly means well, but going to Cedar Ridge is not the answer. I know I’ll end up under our oak tree if I head home in this frame of mind. Providence may only be two hours away, but it provides much needed distance between the past and me.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Holly. Tell Ryan I’ll visit y’all soon. I promise.”

“Seriously, Alex, he’s starting to get a complex. He thinks you don’t like him because you never come around. If you won’t come to us, we’ll have to make a trip to Providence soon.”

“I’d love that. I’m going to hold you to it. I’ll talk to you later.”

“See ya, chick,” I hear her singsong as I end the call.

It’s the truth. I would love a visit from my best friend and her boyfriend. Holly spent years waiting for her high school crush, Tripp, to clean up his act. With no foreseeable end to his gigolo ways, she moved on and met Ryan. It was the best thing that could have happened. He treats her like the princess she so obviously is.

It’s time for me to look to the future, too. I know that. I look at Holly and Ryan, and I want that with someone. Is she right? Would knowing the truth finally set me free?

I open the drawer of my bedside table and grab my pen and journal. I don’t send him emails anymore, but I still write often. He’ll never see my words, but pouring over my thoughts has always been cathartic. I curl my legs underneath me, and fall into the pile of pillows that decorate my bed.