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A slow shake of his head.
“No.” He clears his throat, looking even more uncomfortable. “He’d been boozing too and didn’t remember seeing me with anyone.”
“Wait, what? No, he—”
“I, uh, knew about the girl because there was a condom wrapper next to the bed.” He swallows, looking down at his feet. “And some other stuff.”
“What about a number?” The cocktail napkin he’d had me write it on because his phone was broken and my phone’s battery had gone out hours before we even made it back to his room.
“Believe me, I looked.”
A used condom wrapper was all he had left of me. I feel sick, but then I feel angry too. “But your brother, he—”
What can I say? That I know he was there? That his brother is a liar? That I know because my “friend” happened to mention he’d been there and hadn’t come across as trashed, just a little douchey, teasing her about her name. Giving Quinn shit about his plans to meet her parents the next night.
No.
The truth is I have no idea what happened with him or his brother after he dropped me back at my room. All I know is this wasn’t what I thought I would hear.
When I don’t say anything else, Quinn shakes his head.
“Look, I know this is still just my word and I guess I can’t really expect you to believe me, but—maybe you could at least tell your friend what happened. I felt like shit about that night. But now that I know what I said… Christ, it’s so much worse. Tell her I’m sorry.”
Chapter 15
George
He didn’t lie.
He didn’t deceive.
He didn’t make me fall in love with him for the sole purpose of seeing if he could.
After all these years, it turns out I wasn’t a game. A bit of sport. Or one of so very many, he couldn’t even remember my face.
I’m still reeling as I trudge up the stairs to my apartment. If ever I wished I lived alone instead of with three of my brothers, it is now. Before opening the door, I hear whoops and hollers, a crash followed by a beat of silence, and then laughter so loud I don’t know how we aren’t getting complaints from people down the street.
“George! Where you been?” Ross croaks in that two-pack-a-day voice he’s had since he first learned to talk.
Eli slaps a hand on the table. “We’ve been saving a seat for you.”
Saving is probably a stretch. My guess is none of these nimrods could scrounge up a fourth for their poker game and were hoping I’d sit in.
But as much as I enjoy playing for candy corn and Swedish Fish most nights, tonight I’m not sure I can even make it past the kitchen before breaking down. And if that happens, these boys will lose their shit. One of them will be on the phone with my dad in thirty seconds, while the others try to put me in a headlock to “cheer me up.”
No thanks.
All I need is some time alone. Some time to think. Some time to process the fact that everything I thought I knew was wrong. And that maybe, just maybe, Quinn O’Brian hasn’t been trying to snow me from the start.
God, maybe he’s every bit as perfect as I thought he was only pretending to be.
“Thanks for the offer. But I’m gonna pass.”
They start razzing me as I head out of the kitchen, so I call back over my shoulder, “Gary, looks like there’s a card or two stuck in your sleeve.”
It was just a guess, but with the commotion that ensues, it’s safe to say at least with these guys, I know what’s going on.
I walk through the apartment, stepping around the shoes and laundry and miscellaneous crap my brothers leave everywhere until I make it to my bedroom. And when I close the door behind me, I punch the thumb lock and then throw the slide lock I installed myself because my brothers are dicks who think invading each other’s privacy is fun—I give in, slowly sliding to the floor.
