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"I think the whole world knows about your injury," I tell him wryly.
Logan snorts at my response. "You're kind of a big deal, dude," he says. "The Dallas Cowboys. I always knew you would be somebody big."
Quaid doesn't look proud of the acknowledgment of his accomplishment. He looks distinctly uncomfortable actually.
"I've followed every aspect of your career," I tell him, feeling emotional about how much of his life I've missed and how proud I am of him. I stare out the window of the bar to the soaring views, trying to control my emotions. There's a part of me that can't stand to be vulnerable in front of these men who have become strangers.
"You have?" There's an awestruck sound in Quaid's voice, like he can't believe it. The sound draws my eyes.
"Why would you be surprised at that?" I ask.
"Maybe because you fucking left out of the blue when you didn't get your way," he snaps. "You weren't exactly preaching eternal love at that point, were you?"
I don't have anything to say to that, and the table once again descends into silence. I throw back my drink and get up to go to the bar to get another glass.
As I stand there, my nausea increases, and I reach into my purse for the pills, shakily popping a couple in my mouth as I try to get myself together.
"Val," a whisper breathes across my neck as Quaid's hand comes to rest at my lower back. "I'm sorry."
I quickly throw my pill bottle back into my clutch so he won't be able to see what it is. Taking a deep breath, I turn and face him. He's standing just an inch away from me when I turn, and his gaze flicks to my lips briefly with yearning before he meets my eyes again.
He takes my elbow and leads me back outside so we have some semblance of privacy at least from the other two.
"It's this hole that just burns inside of me. Do you know how many nights I spent growing up imagining that I would play for Alabama, imagining that I would play for the NFL some day and win a Super Bowl?"
I just stare at him, enthralled by the passion in his voice. "Every night. And in every one of those dreams about my life, you were by my side. And then I got injured, and I've probably lost all of that. And what bothers me the most at this moment about that is that my injury means that even though you're here with me, you're never going to be a part of that life with me. You're never going to be sitting in those stands, cheering me on. I've lost out on that."
A tear spirals down my cheek.
"So, you're done playing football?" I whisper, my heart aching at him losing out on not just his favorite thing, but of us both losing out on that dream of experiencing it together.
He closes his eyes and curses. "I'm not sure. But I'm here right now, so probably."
I open my mouth to say something, anything…anything but that he should go home and get ready for the new season. Because I'm learning that I'm selfish like that.
"But it isn't even about that," he barks, cutting me off. "Do you know how fucking lonely I've been all these years? Do you think any of the people that I've spent time with were actually there just because of me? No, they were all there because of what they could get from me. And I learned that pretty quick after I got hurt and I couldn't even get any of my so-called best friends to even fucking answer the phone." He sighs and pushes back his hair again, staring off into the distance, not looking at the views but getting lost in memories.
"It's interesting isn’t it, how you can see a person's life play out in the media and think you know everything about it," I whisper. "Celebrities. They're just like us."
I say it to lighten the mood, and it works because he snorts and looks at me like I'm crazy. After he's finished laughing, his gaze once more falls to my lips. "I think everyone's gotten to taste you except for me." His voice is rough and gravelly, and I'm experiencing a bit of whiplash with how many emotions I've experienced in such a short time.
Probably more than I've experienced in the last ten years, since my primary emotions during these years have been disappointment and sorrow.
Quaid
I've been cravingher taste since the second I saw her. Even now, after a few hours with her, I want her desperately. Before I can think any more on it, I pull her towards me, savoring how her body feels against mine. Her lips are firm and hot. If she is surprised by the kiss, she doesn’t dwell on it, immediately taking charge. Her arms go around my neck as I run my tongue along the seam of her lips. Her dress is backless, and her skin is like velvet beneath my hands. Her tongue tangles with mine, and one of my hands slides down, cupping her ass and hauling her even tighter against my body.
She tastes like champagne, and chocolate, and her…a taste I have trouble describing, because it’s like ambrosia against my taste buds.
It’s the best kiss I've ever had in my life, and I can’t get enough. My tongue takes control of her mouth. I know exactly what I want, and she seems more than happy to give it to me. Everything around us fades. I have never desired anything more, and I unabashedly rub myself against her until she’s moaning against me.
"Can't say I didn't expect this," comes Logan's voice from behind us, and I groan as I rip my mouth away from hers. It feels like the hardest thing I've ever done.
I whirl around and glare at him. "Really?" I growl, feeling far from the normally easy-going guy I have a reputation for being.
Logan has an amused look on his face, and I realize he doesn't look jealous at all, just a bit smug at interrupting us. That’s interesting.
I can feel Valentina panting behind me, and I reach back and grab her, pulling her towards me so that she's pressed against my back. I'm not sure if I can let her go, even if she asks at the moment.
