Page 8 of Masters of Control

“I couldn’t afford the dress, much less my part in any of the stuff that goes with prom.”

“I would have paid for all the stuff, though it might have been a little weird if I’d offered to pay for the dress,” Q said softly, reaching out to touch her hand. She stilled, no longer drawing on the bar top. She finally looked up to meet his eyes, her smile sad. He wanted to wipe the sadness away and bring back the spark he’d seen earlier.

“I didn’t want you to. I was too proud. I never wanted anyone to know we were struggling. Plus…” She sighed, looking away again. “The day you asked me, we had that big test in AP English that afternoon, remember?”

“I do.” When they’d gotten their tests back the next day, she’d stared at the piece of paper, then shoved it in her backpack. It was the first time they hadn’t compared grades on something.

“I got a C minus.” She stared down at the bar, her shoulders hunching in on themselves, then lifted her glass to take a long drink while Q blinked rapidly, trying to understand.

Sam never got Cs. They had both been straight-A students. She had been the only student to even rival him for grades. They’d both had a thirst for knowledge, a love of learning, and good test-taking skills—a combination hard to beat.

She took a deep breath.

“I got a C minus because the night before I was too busy trying to figure out how I was going to afford everything and researching prom dresses to study the way I needed to. Then my dad came home, and he was worried about being laid off, and I realized it would add another financial burden to him.” Even now her voice was thick with emotion.

Q squeezed her hand tightly. He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms, but he didn’t know how she would react. Everything about her body language screamed that she didn’t want to be touched.

“Sam, it’s okay⁠—”

“He wouldn’t let me get a job,” she cut him off, the words pouring out of her like she’d been holding them back for too long and now she couldn’t stop them. “My job was to get good grades so I could get scholarships so I could go to college. Then I got a C minus on my test because I was too busy obsessing over one night with a boy I liked.” She looked up at him again, and this time he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “So, I took back my yes, but I was too ashamed to explain why. I’m really, really sorry because I think I hurt you a lot more than I meant to, but I just couldn’t explain.”

That did it. Q hopped off his bar stool and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him so her head nuzzled into his shoulder.

There. Much better.

3

Let’s Talk About It

Sam

Oh my God, could I be more pathetic, crying over something that happened a decade ago?

It was something that had stuck in her head all these years. Even after she’d gotten the scholarships she needed, gone through college, and started working as an occupational therapist, she’d never told anyone. She’d been too busy with schoolwork to have friends, and she’d never wanted to add to everything her single dad was going through to give her the life he thought she deserved. After her mom left them, they’d been a team, and she’d been determined to be a benefit, not a detriment.

But she’d felt bad and always wondered ‘what if.’ That ‘what if’ had hurt sometimes, especially after she’d taken back her yes, her and Q’s mostly friendly rivalry had taken on a hostile edge. She’d been just as bad as him, partly because she’d been mad he’d stopped being friendly, even though she understood why, and partly because she’d resented him for that C minus. It had taken her a while to unpack that and realize her teenage brain had blamed him.

“Sam, it’s over, it’s in the past, and I get it. I wish you’d told me then, but I get why you didn’t.” Q’s hand rubbed up and down on her back in soothing circles, and she sniffled but wasn’t crying crying, and her tears were already drying up, but this felt… nice.

It was the most cuddling she’d gotten outside of after care in months. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to let her go, even though this was probably a bad idea. Emotions could get complicated enough between kink and sex without their baggage.

Would it really be the worst thing?

No, no it would not.

God, he smells so good, I wish I could just lick him…

“You okay, Sam?” Shane’s cautious tone made her sit up. His expression was neutral, but the look he was giving Q still managed to be repressive. He didn’t want to step on any toes, but he was also willing to give Q a stern talking-to if necessary.

“I’m good, sorry.” She gave Q a wan smile as she straightened. “Sorry.”

“Hey, feel free to press your boobs against me any time, I am here at your disposal.” Q grinned as he shifted back, regaining his seat and making Shane chuckle and relax. He turned to go take care of the other customer, and Q gave her a mock scared look, dropping his voice to a whisper. “For a second there, I thought I might be in trouble. I felt like I was facing someone’s dad.”

“Bartender Daddy,” Sam whispered, giggling when Q cracked up. She could totally see Shane as reluctant Daddy. He’d probably protest the entire time.

“Seriously though, Sam, I was upset and felt rejected as a kid, but I was fine. You did nothing wrong.”

“I did, though.” She sighed and took another long drink of beer. The pleasant, cool bitterness slid down her throat, helping with the heat of embarrassment. “I could have told you.”